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Paul Gough
Peacekeeping, Peace, Memorialization:
Reflections on the shifting status of the Peacekeeping Memorial in Ottawa
Peacekeeping, Peace, Memory: Reflections on the Peacekeeping Monument in Ottawa, Canada, Canadian Military History
Winter 2002/2003, 11, 3,. pp. 65-74, 9 b & w illus ISSN 1195-8472

The Announcement

Since 1948, under the auspices of the United Nations, Canada has contributed over 80,000 men and women from all branches of the armed forces to global peacekeeping. During the 1950s and 1960s Canada was in fact the greatest contributor of ‘Blue Helmeted’ soldiers to UN peacekeeping endeavours and became the undisputed leader in global peacekeeping. Although peacekeeping was never at the heart of Canada’s foreign policy, Canadian politicians liked to be seen as projecting an image as ‘helpful fixers’, acting as a voice of moderation between the extremes of the two superpowers during the Cold War. It was a Canadian statesman, Lester B. Pearson, who first used the UN Charter to create the idea of an international peacekeeping force – a concept that earned him a Nobel Peace prize in 1957. Since their first use in Suez in 1956, however, the roles of peacekeepers have become extremely diverse: from supervising elections in Namibia, monitoring the withdrawal of a foreign army in Afghanistan, to observing the ceasefire between Iran and Iraq, to standing between two conflicting communities in Cyprus.

In the late 1970s, global peacekeeping was largely dominated by a small number of countries that were widely perceived as neutral or non-aligned. Countries such as Ireland, Fiji, Nepal, and Canada, despite its status as a member of the western bloc and of NATO, formed the peacekeeping core, regarded as ‘honest brokers’ without geo-political interests.(1) As one of the largest contributors to UN peacekeeping Canada gained a reputation as a genuinely fair minded state.(2)

In 1988, the Canadian Department of National Defence (DND) announced that a monument would be erected in Ottawa, dedicated to Canadian forces who had served in peacekeeping duties since the Second World War. This announcement followed the award of the 1988 Nobel Peace Prize to the United Nations to mark forty years of international peacekeeping. In 1990, the so-called “Peacekeepers Monument” competition was launched. Although proposed and initiated by DND, the competition was managed by a committee consisting of representatives from DND, the National Capital Commission, and Public Works Canada. Recognizing the monument’s dual role as public art and as an urban design, the committee invited five sculptors and five urban designers to form design teams drawn from practices and studios throughout Canada. A five-person jury, selected from the Canadian military, from the arts, and from architecture, was formed to adjudicate on the entrants, who had four months in which to register their interest, attend on-site briefings, and submit their initial maquettes and design concepts (22 June 1990 – 12 October 1990). The winning team was to receive a fee of $175,000. Work on site was intended to commence in September 1991, with the sculpture installed in August 1992. Dedication of the monument was planned for September 1992.

The Competition Guidelines make clear that the guiding spirit of the monument was to be a “tribute to the living, not a memorial to the dead”:
    'The intent of the Monument is to recognize and celebrate through artistic, inspirational and tangible form Canada’s past and present peacekeeping role in the world. In that sense it will represent a fundamental Canadian value: no missionary zeal to impose our way of life on others but an acceptance of the responsibility to assist them in determining their own futures by ensuring a non-violent climate in which to do so. The Monument will appeal to those who seek a literal message and to those who are receptive to a more symbolic statement.'(3)
In phrasing the designer’s brief, the authors of the Guidelines recognized the difficulty in reaching consensus in a pluralistic society and appreciated the ‘low priority’ usually given to the aesthetic and symbolic dimensions of public space. This explains the careful wording of the eight principles that were devised to guide the invited competitors.(4) Of overriding importance was a requirement that the monument “include literal images and words” that would clearly explain the activities it commemorated. Any symbolic language had to be intelligible to a broad spectrum of the population “so that past and present members of the peacekeeping forces, as well as the general public, are able to understand and identify with (its) underlying ideals and values.” These conditions would have an important influence on the eventual outcome of the competition.

The monument also had to function as a public and ceremonial place that would encourage social interaction and accommodate formal events. In this capacity its proposed location was particularly appropriate. Sandwiched between two major thoroughfares, Sussex Drive and Mackenzie Avenue, the site for the proposed monument lay at the heart of a bold urban development scheme that included the new National Gallery of Canada, 200 metres to the north-west, and the site of the proposed US Embassy, 50 metres to the south. Here, then, lay an opportunity to create a large urban ‘room’ that would relate to these prestigious buildings and to the open land of Majors Hill Park, with its important sightlines to Parliament Hill, the Peace Tower and other state buildings to the immediate west. In detailing these principal urban markers the commissioners sought to replicate the symbolic and architectural properties of the National War Memorial, which is situated some three hundred metres to the south of the space set aside for the Peacekeeping Monument.


Most military monuments are intended to commemorate historic victories and to preserve national ideals; war memorials are designed to evoke meaningful memory and to act as focal points for national mourning. But could a war memorial or monument also espouse the ideals of peace? Throughout the British Empire during the post-Great War period the idea of peace was invariably conflated with that of a just and hard-won victory. The allegorical figures of Victory stood side by side with the female figure of Peace. ‘Peace’ was invariably depicted holding an olive branch, palm frond, or, very occasionally, a dove. And, while regarded as a partner to the representation of Victory and Justice, she was invariably positioned at a lower level. At Colchester, England, for example, the two attendant figures at ground level are of St George and Peace, while Victory soars many metres above. In Ottawa, the original design for the cast bronze allegorical figures at the top of the National War Memorial was to be “either Peace and Victory or Liberty and Freedom”, the sculptor Vernon March deciding eventually on the figure of Peace adorned with a laurel wreath – the symbolic flowers of victory.

Yet few memorials celebrate peace in its own right. British memorial sculpture implied that ‘Peace’ was the consequence of ‘Victory’, not an ideal worth promoting as a separate or distinct entity. Indeed, in the majority of cases, only an eye trained in horticultural typologies might be able to tell the difference between an emblem of peace - the olive - and those of victory, the laurel. Ottawa’s Peace Tower on Parliament Hill, opened in 1928, was so-named to commemorate the achievement of peace in 1919, but nonetheless houses within it the memorialistic Books of Remembrance containing the names of the dead from Canada’s wars. In France, Allward’s Vimy Memorial unveiled eight years later, is also said to be a peace memorial. But so complex is this vast public sculpture that its many meanings overlap and multiply rather than become pared down to an overriding principle.

There is of course a distinction to be drawn between monuments that premise ‘peace’ and those that prioritize ‘peacemaking’ – it is too easy to conflate the two, After the Great War there were those who tried to appropriate war memorials to promote wider campaigns for peace and disarmament. In Britain during the monument-building phase of the inter-war years, remembrance was soon politicized and the promotion of peace was driven by pacifist campaigners who focused their actions on war memorials and their attendant rituals. In 1921, for example, the Armistice Day ceremony in London was disrupted by groups of unemployed ex-servicemen with placards stating: “The dead are remembered but we are forgotten”.(5) In following years white peace poppies were distributed by the Peace Pledge Union; in 1926 the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom organized a Peace Pilgrimage throughout Britain which focused less on remembrance than on campaigns for peace legislation and world disarmament. During the 1930s pacifist groups in Canada suggested that Armistice Day should be ended because it perpetuated militarism, though as Jonathan Vance states, this had the opposite effect of galvanizing national support for remembrance events.(6)

After the Second World War we find very different public expressions, many with a declared intention to promote peace, rather than celebrate its achievement as the consequence of a hard-won war. As I have argued elsewhere, these were heavily politicized activities, invariably prompted by an avowed fear of the consequences of nuclear proliferation.(7) A number of these ‘monuments’ are located in such heavily bombed cities as Dresden, Coventry, and Nagasaki. Invariably, these take the form of anti-monuments - designed landscapes, preserved ruins, and other ephemeral artistic gestures rather than totemic, plinth-based statements. Such symbolically charged landscapes convey quite complex ideas: they celebrate the end of war, but they also advocate pacifist principles. They do not commemorate peace because peace is regarded as an active process not a closed idea.

Where today’s ‘peace monuments’ do exist, they are often presented as fluid, open-ended artworks that require active co-operation from the public. A peace cairn in County Donegal, Eire, for example, consists of a mound of hand-sized stones individually contributed by pilgrims wishing to create a ‘permanent monument to peace’ which is, in fact, in a constant state of change.(8) Such a ‘monument’ seems to suggest that if ‘peace’ cannot be represented because it lacks the necessary rhetorical language, it might be promoted by continuous public involvement. A peace cairn symbolizes, at one level, the laying down of ‘arms’ but also the need for constant maintenance and persistent effort. Such ‘monuments’ offer a very different aesthetic and symbolic experience to those dedicated to the active maintenance of peace, usually through political and military intervention, as exemplified in peacekeeping monuments such as that in Ottawa.

Peace is, then, most often represented aesthetically and polemically as transient, dialectic, and fluid. It is invariably deeply politicized, rarely state-sponsored and deliberately ignores the plinth and the plaza. Given these conditions, what should we surmise from the rhetorical and dramatic scale of the United Nations Peacekeepers’ Monument in Ottawa? Incorporating figurative languages with the hard geometry of the modern movement, it too borrows from the iconography of peace, combining the imagery of symbolic ruin with tree planting and garden design. It also, - interestingly enough, in keeping with such Canadian monuments to conflict as the Vimy Menorial, the monument at Green Park, London, and le Mémorial, at Caen - requires a viewer to enter an architectural space, to become a player in a theatrical act which is determined by location and spatial manipulation.

As the monument was to be a pioneering piece of public art, the first ever dedicated to peacekeeping action, the designers were convinced that the values it had to commemorate and promote were those of arbitration, fairness and reconciliation. It was borne out of a very different brief than most ‘peace’ sculptures, however. The designers were also fully aware that it would have to co-exist in a thickening forest of statuary and monuments sprouting up in the capital city. More significantly, they recognized that it would have to be noticeably different and distinct from its immediate sculptural neighbour, the National War Memorial just down the road in Confederation Square.

National War Memorial and the politics of location
Standing on a slight crest at the junction of three main streets in central Ottawa, the National War Memorial was created out of an international competition established in 1925. A winning design chosen from 127 entries was selected in 1926. The design of Vernon March, a 31-year old English sculptor, was to include 19 (later 22) figures dressed in the uniforms of the various branches of the Canadian forces, two horses and an 18-pounder field gun, all in cast bronze, moving in a column through a granite arch surmounted by two cast bronze allegorical figures (Figure 1). Following “a host of problems”, including protracted difficulties in procuring the site, the entire memorial scheme was not concluded until 1938.(9) It was unveiled by King George VI in May 1939, just months before the outbreak of another war.

Originally required to “be expressive of the feelings of the Canadian people as a whole” (10) the winning design had to espouse the core values of post-war remembrance: “the spirit of heroism, the spirit of self-sacrifice, the spirit of all that is noble and great that was exemplified in the lives of those sacrificed in the Great War, and the services rendered by the men and women who went overseas.”(11) To the artist, however, the sculpture was intended to have a parallel symbolism, which is not often noted:

    The arch in the centre is the gateway to peace, and through it young people representing branches in the war service eagerly seek hope and respite from the travails of battle. At the top, standing on the architrave, are two figures holding up symbols of peace and freedom.(12)
The location of the monument at the head of Elgin Street in Confederation Square was due to the influence of the Prime Minister at the time, William Lyon Mackenzie King.(13) Many argued that it should be placed in more sedate surroundings, while others believed it should be closer to the Parliament buildings, on “national property”.(14) Cherishing ambitions to reshape the capital, King argued that by siting the memorial in Confederation Square (called Connaught Square before 1927) a neutral space would be transformed into a politicized plaza worthy of Canada’s emergent national identity. Its position here made it a monumental ‘hinge’ in the urban scheme of mid-twentieth-century central Ottawa. It continues to play a crucial topographic function as a terminator for the formal axis of Elgin Street, and as a meeting point for several districts of the capital. Furthermore it has a distinctive silhouette, derived from its construction as triumphal arch, cenotaph, and enlarged sculptural plinth, which is crucial to the spatial dynamics of the capital and renders it instantly memorable. “Without it, Confederation Square would simply be a rather formless and dispersed traffic intersection,” states Roger du Toit, architect and professional advisor to the Peacekeeping Monument scheme.(15) Also, as Colette Boisvert suggests in her Carleton M.A. thesis on the War Memorial, the silhouette affords it a distinctive and memorable motif which reproduces well in photographs, the only means, at least until the coming of television, that distant Canadians had to see the structure.(16)

‘The Reconciliation: an Icon of Peacekeeping or Peace?
In a report on Ottawa’s urban centre commissioned by the National Capital Commission in 1988, Roger du Toit drew lessons from the bold siting of March’s memorial. He examined the other principal markers and nodal points of the city, identifying their importance as structural devices which linked nationally significant institutions and places while lending emphasis, distinction and a visual coherence to the streets.(17) proposals for the Peacekeeping Monument would also have to maximize these topographical criteria.

In many ways, the brief for the Peacekeeping Monument was a re-run of the War Memorial debate in the 1920s. In 1988, there were similar aspirations for the key civic routes and loci of the capital. Five years earlier, a National Capital Commission paper on Ceremonial Routes had identified the importance of a Ceremonial Ring, to be known subsequently as Confederation Boulevard, which would link Ottawa with Hull. As one of the more important nodes in that ring, the site of the peacekeeping monument was regarded as the critical urban room in the development scheme. Like March’s Great War memorial, the monument was intended to be a symbolic pivot in the elaboration of modern Ottawa.

Although a monument to peacekeeping, the conceptualizing of the monument was not completely dissociated from the problems inherent in monumentalizing peace itself. In the perceptions of many pacifists, the concept of a ‘Peacekeeping Monument’ is a contradiction in terms: how can one commemorate peace as if it were a defined segment of historic time? Furthermore, how can the ideals of peace be expressed figuratively, or as part of an urban scheme that specifies intelligibility as the leading aesthetic criteria? If the ‘Peacekeeping Monument’ is intended as a monument to the pacifying role of unarmed soldiers, how could the invited design teams devise an architectural format and a figurative form that would project the idea of consent, impartiality, and ‘conflict control’ as a contrast to the precedent set by March’s sculpture some hundreds of metres away? These were the challenges facing the design teams: it was a demanding task, and it produced a range of powerful submissions. The winning design is widely celebrated as the world’s first monument to peacekeeping, and as such it merits close and critical scrutiny.

‘The Reconciliation’ was designed by sculptor Jack K. Harman, architect and urban designer Richard G Henriquez, and landscape arcitect Cornelia Hahn Oberlander.He argued that the principal markers - obelisks, fountains, arches - helped punctuate a sequence of streets, or terminated long vistas, and regarded them as crucial landmarks in the re-shaping of parts of a capital city. In the revisions to central Ottawa in the 1980s, any (18) Their design has a number of elements: a corridor of concrete and steel debris inside two solid granite walls upon which are mounted a trio of bronze cast figures (Figure 2). Set to one side of the monument is a grove of 12 oak trees arranged around an ovoid mound, adjacent to which is a semi-circular ceremonial space. As a motif, The Reconciliation makes a simple theatrical statement, which is spelled out in a plaque:
    Members of Canada’s Armed Forces, represented by three figures, stand at the meeting place of two walls of destruction. Vigilant, impartial, they oversee the reconciliation of those in conflict. Behind them lies the debris of war. Ahead lies the promise of peace; a grove, symbol of life.
As dramaturgical space the monument has considerable impact: the corridor is best viewed from the south-east, where the eye is drawn into the cleft by a pattern of floor tiles - modelled on the Green Line bisecting Nicosia, the capital of Cyprus - that meander around the chunks of sawn and drilled concrete littering the corridor floor (Figure 3). Approaching the apex of the two walls that form the sides of the corridor one becomes aware of the large cast bronze figures dominating the skyline. Two fissures in the corridor walls open out to reveal the ceremonial space on the right and glimpses of the oak grove in the east. In contrast with the pale stonework of the walls, the three figures form striking silhouettes which, upon close scrutiny, reveal themselves as three soldiers, one female and two male, unarmed and attentive but rather exposed as they scan the spaces on either side of the pointed monument. At the apex of the monument, there are two inscriptions – Reconciliation and At the Service of Peace/Au Service de la Paix. One of the side walls is inscribed with a sequence of 48 locations where Canadians have served in a peacekeeping role, from United Nations in Korea (1947) to the Kosovo Verification Mission (1998-99). There is space sufficient for a further 30 inscriptions (Figure 4).

Although the grove of trees is integral to the monument, it is easy to overlook (Figure 5). Consisting of twelve trees - oak was selected for its longevity - the number is meant to represent the ten provinces and the then two territories of Canada (now, of course, there are three). Like March’s sculpture with its panoply of characters drawn from all parts of the country, the grove is an attempt to recognize the national spectrum from which Canadian peacekeeping forces are drawn. As a symbolic motif, the grove refers to the rich memorial tradition of the heroes’ grove that became a staple icon in nineteenth-century Germanic landscapes of remembrance.(19)

As public art, the monument has two very different profiles. Approached from the north via the Hull-Ottawa road the three figures and the reflective surface of the apex dominate the urban room; from the south, the primary sensation is of two distinctive spaces: an enclosed corridor and a ceremonial open area. Despite the sense of enclosure, there is little relief from the noise of passing traffic. As an emblem the monument is a little overwhelmed by the adjacent post-modern architectures, the glass tower of the National Gallery to the north and the unwelcoming glazed exterior of the US Embassy some 50 metres to the south
(Figure 6). Surrounded by these new buildings the monument does not quite dominate the urban room for which it was intended.

Aesthetically, there is a strained relationship between Harman’s cast figures and the angularity of the monument: leaving the impression that the tonal contrast between the three metre high dark statues and the expanse of smooth pale stone is too extreme.
(Figure 7). Unlike the figures in the National War Memorial the statues on The Reconciliation arguably do not relate to the larger architectural whole. In March’s sculpted group the arrangement of form has been calculated so that light falls at intervals across the figures, lending momentum to their forward movement through the arch. By comparison, the Peacekeeping figures, though bold in silhouette, do not seem to function as an aesthetic unit, nor relate in their proportions to the greater architectural whole. As it had to meet the need for ‘figurative intelligibility’ as stipulated in the brief, the effect is one of discordant elements separately assembled. Nonetheless, the design team may be making a subtle point here: one connected to the idea that peacekeeping troops are, by dint of their neutral role, somewhat separated from their actual surroundings.

Further evidence of a lack of a unifying style, however, is the ‘peace grove’, which remains a visual sideshow. As a sequence of visual forms, the monument suffers from narrative complexity. How, for example, are we meant to ‘read’ the smooth outer walls of the monument? They act as a formal counterpoint to the ‘ruins’ of the corridor space, but do they represent the forces of impartiality, reason, and arbitration, or are the walls merely an architectural plinth for the lead characters, the three unarmed figures? Could the visual complexity of the monument echo the ambiguities and complexities of the very act of peace keeping and of peace itself?
As a monument, The Reconciliation cannot, of course, be appraised in isolation from the aspirations of the wider society. Like most western democracies, Canada has not lacked for a significant peace movement, and across the country its civic landscape is rich in gardens, parks and other public spaces dedicated to the ideals of this movement. A number of these resulted from an impetus provided by the so-called “Canada 125 Project”, which was established to promote ceremonies marking the 125th year of Confederation. Part of the Project’s program was to consolidate, and in effect incorporate the aspirations of the peace movement into its own plans by dedicating 400 peace parks across the country.(20) Many of these were extant open spaces created by pacifist and anti-war groups that were re-inscribed for the purpose. Others were designed with a ‘Peace Grove’ consisting of twelve trees as a symbolic link to one another and as an obvious reference to the monument in Ottawa. Working in conjunction with the National Capital Commission, Canada 125 arranged to have the inauguration of these parks linked with the opening of The Reconcilation in Ottawa on 8 September 1992.

In the end, the intervention of the Canada 125 Project introduced an element of confusion into the monument’s message. Through the links with the peace parks, The Reconciliation came to be seen in some quarters as a symbol of both of peace and peacekeeping. As a result, the monument became freighted with a complex amalgam of themes – world peace, disarmament, reconciliation, intervention, arbitration, unarmed heroism – many of which it was never intended to serve. By locating The Reconcilation as a partner with existing peace spaces and as a precursor of future such spaces, the Canada 125 Project served to inadvertently associate The Reconciliation with the ideals of the peace movement, which was to misunderstand its original remit. And doubtless from the the point of view of the peace movement, the state could be seen to be laying its imprint and controlling measure on the rhetoric of peace.

Given these complex ideas, The Reconciliation falls between many different stools: it is certainly not a polemic against war, nor is it a monument that can be cited in any campaign for peace. As monumental sculpture it does not evoke shared memory nor does it pose many awkward questions. Unlike most ‘war’ memorials it makes no attempt at closure or the resolution of private or public suffering. It does, however, record the historic involvement of Canadian troops in peacekeeping. And, with sufficient space for thirty future campaigns, it predicts a future peacekeeping role for Canadian troops. In this sense it projects a future role with some certainty, suggesting that the Canadian values of impartiality and fairness will be constants worthy of continuous memorialization. This, of course, did not anticipate the impact such recent developments as Canadian participation in the bombing campaign over Kosovo and, in the wake of the terrorist attacks on New York on 11 September, the intervention in Afghanistan. This raises the question of whether the monument’s preoccupations with peacekeeping could come commemorate only a certain phase in Canadian military and foreign policy.

The monument does appear to have gathered considerable status amongst former Canadian military personnel who have served on peacekeeping missions. For them it seems to constitute a physical (and virtual) focal point for this community of ex-servicemen. For many, the monument acts as a bold visual logo that regularly adorns internet sites dedicated to the topic. In this way it replicates the visual impact of the striking silhouette of March’s memorial. However, a number of former Canadian soldiers who have served in peacekeeping roles have recently raised objections to the factual and symbolic purpose of the monument, suggesting that the list of missions carved on its northern face are “gross inaccuracies”, which render the monument a “National embarrassment.”(21) But more pointedly, peacekeeping veterans argue that the monument serves no memorial function. Although it honours a national ideal and an international principle, it does not remember those that died on peacekeeping service. In their vociferous campaign, veterans draw on the heightened rhetorical language of the Great War – using phrases such as ‘the fallen’ and ‘ultimate sacrifice’ - to articulate their grievance. Their campaign is an important one: it marks the point where monumental form is re-invigorated and re-inscribed as a motif of collective remembrance, and also where an emblem of state-sponsored peacekeeping – and even, latterly, of peace itself - is transformed into a memorial to those who died in martial conflict. In other words these veterans see the memorial as symbolizing these traditional military values rather than independent arbitration as conceived of by its makers.

In his 1993 book, The Texture of Memory: Holocaust Memorials and Meaning, published in 1993, historian James E. Young cites the French writer, Pierre Nora, who introduced the concept of an inert memorial whose meaning is continually reconstructed by ever-changing social and cultural contexts. This leads Young to conclude that “monuments have little value in themselves”. Instead, as “parts of a nation’s rites or the objects of a peoples national pilgrimage, they are invested with national soul and memory” and “once created, memorials take on a life of their own, often stubbornly resistant to the state’s original intentions.” Something along these lines may well be happening in the case of The Reconciliation. At present, it seems to be somewhat awkwardly wedged between the views of those who see it as a memorial to Peacekeeping, as envisioned by its creators, as a monument to the wider ideas of Peace, as promulgated by the Canada 125 Committee, and as a memorial to the dead in the manner of March’s National War Memorial, as it is increasingly being viewed by peacekeeping veterans. Freighted with these various levels of meaning and carrying much more interpretive baggage than its spare and stark design originally intended, the memorial is still able to inspire comment and often outspoken opinion. There is evidence to suggest, however, as per Pierre Nora and James Young, that the message it conveys to Canadians is at present in a state of flux.

Figure 1 General view of the Canadian War Memorial, Ottawa, sculptor Vernon March, 1939
Figure 2 General view of the Peacekeeping Monument, Ottawa
Figure 3 Central corridor showing the ‘Green Line’ and the ‘walls of destruction’
Figure 4 Inscriptions on the north wall of the Peacekeeping Monument, Ottawa
Figure 5 Peace Grove, Peacekeeping Monument, Ottawa
Figure 6 Peacekeeping Monument with US Embassy building in background
Figure 7 Peacekeeping Monument, - the three statues, sculptor Jack K. Harman

1 Jocelyn Coulon, Soldiers of Diplomacy: the United Nations, Peacekeeping, and the New World Order (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998) p. 165. For an analysis of peacekeeping in Africa see Bruce D. Jones, Peacemaking in Rwanda: the dynamics of failure, (New York: Lynne Rienner Publications, 2001). Further material on Canada and peacekeeping can be found in J. L. Granatstein and David Bercuson, War and Peacekeeping; from South Africa to the Gulf – Canada’s Limited Wars (Toronto: Key Porter Books, 1991 and in in J. L. Granatstein and Norman Hillmer, Empire to Umpire: Canada and the World to the 1990s, (Toronto: Copp Clark Longman, 1994)

2 Joseph T. Jockel, Canada and International Peacekeeping (1994) in Coulon, Ibid, p. 166

3 Competition Guidelines National Capital Commission and Department of National Defence, 1990.

4 The eight principles required the monument to ‘include symbols which were easily recognizable by a broad spectrum of the population’, to ‘include the literal images and words necessary to explain the activities commemorated’, to be ‘an effective formal venue’, to ‘encourage and facilitate casual social interaction’, ‘contribute to the visual coherence and livability of the urban environment’, ‘display artistic, design and technical excellence’, work within ‘established construction schedules’ and, finally ‘the design should ensure the longevity of the Monument’. Taken from Ibid.1990.

5 G. Dyer, The Missing of the Somme, (London: Penguin, 1994) p. 51

6 See P. Brock and N. Young, Pacifism in the Twentieth Century, (Syracuse : Syracuse University Press, 1999); and P. Brock, Studies in Peace History, (York: William Sessions, 1991). Jonathan F. Vance, Death So Noble: Memory, Meaning and the First World War, (Vancouver: UBC Press, 1997) pp 214–215

7 For a full bibliography see Paul Gough, ‘From Heroes’ Groves to Parks of Peace’, Journal of the Landscape Research Group, 25 (2), 2000, pp. 213–229. Some of the ideas relating to modern Canadian memorial architecture have been developed in Paul Gough, ‘War Memorial Gardens as Dramaturgical Spaces’ International Journal of Heritage Studies, 1998, Vol.3, No. 4, pp 119–214, and the same author’s ‘Canada, Conflict and Commemoration: An Appraisal of the new Canadian War Memorial, London’ Canadian Military History, Vol.5, No.1 (1996) pp. 2-34

8 www.iol.iw/-mcmullin/cairn.htm/ last accessed in September 2001.

9 This is examined in Jonathan F. Vance “The Great Response”, The Beaver, October– November 1996, pp 28–32

10 Ibid. p. 28.

11 T. Wayling, Maclean’s 15 December 1938, p.23

12 Quoted in Jim Garner, Ottawa Citizen, 27 May, 1978

13 Jonathan F. Vance, ‘The Great Response’ p. 28; Jacqueline Tucker “Lest we forget: National Memorials to Canada’s First World War Dead”, Journal for the Study of Architecture in Canada, (1998) 23: 3, pp. 88–95

14 Vance, Death So Noble).

15 Roger du Toit, in Competition Guidelines, 1998 p.13

16 Colette Boisvert, “Images of Blood Carved in Stone: The National War Memorials role in Defining a Nation”, Unpublished MA dissertation, Carleton University, 1996. In addition to this excellent essay, I amindebted to Laura Brandon, curator of war art at the Canadian War Museum, Ottawa, for some of the ideas developed in this section.

17 Roger du Toit, An Urban Design Study for Memorials in the Core of the National Capital,( Ottawa: National Capital Commission, 1988) p.3; pp.24–25

18 The full design team consisted of Jack Harman, sculptor, Gibson's, BC; Richard Henriquez, urban designer, Vancouver, BC; Cornelia Oberlander Hahn, landscape architect, Vancouver, BC; Gabriel Design: lighting, Ottawa, Ontario; J.L. Richards: engineering, Ottawa, Ontario.

19 See Uwe Schneider and Gert Groening, “Nature Mystification and the example of the Heroes Groves”, Environments by Design, 2 (2) Autumn 1998, pp. 205–227

20 Canada 125 was a series of nationwide events coordinated in 1992 by the 125 Corporation designed to celebrate Canada's 125th year in Confederation. The centenary had many manifestations from publications to forest trails, as well as manufacturing and industrial projects. In 1992, Louis J. D'Amore, founder of the International Institute For Peace Through Tourism, launched "Peace Parks Across Canada" as part of the Canada 125 celebrations. "Peace Parks Across Canada" resulted in the dedication of more that 400 peace parks in cities, towns and villages across Canada.The "International School Peace Gardens" (ISPG) project was developed as a follow-up to the Peace Parks Across Canada celebrations.

Source: http://www..geocities.com/RainForest/Vines/6016/ispg.
html See also information provided by the web sites for the International Institute for Peace through Tourism / Institut international pour la paix par le tourisme (accessed May 2002).

21 See for example www.rockies.net/-spirit/ the homepage for the Canadian Peacekeeping Veterans Association which contains their authoritative list of UN missions. Further views on the demerits of the monument are listed in http://perc.ca/PEN/

Author’s note:
Paul Gough is Dean, Faculty of Art, Media and Design at the University of West England in Bristol, U.K. Fieldwork for this paper was made possible by a Canadian Studies Faculty Research Programme Grant awarded by the UK Canadian High Commission. In 1999 the UK British Council also sponsored a lecture tour and visit to Canada. I would like to thank Laura Brandon, Curator of Art at the Canadian War Museum, and Professor Brian Osborne, Queen’s University for their support. Special thanks to Dr. Cameron Pulsifer and colleagues for their advice on drafts of this article.