10,000 Ontarians have died of COVID-19. Can a memorial help us heal?
In the 1920s, Canadian society was defined by the missing.
Nearly 61,000 Canadians died in the First World War and close to 50,000 died in the Spanish flu pandemic, but only one event was remembered in stone, again and again. From the modest small-town cenotaph to soaring national memorials, sculptors were busy for years after the war, creating places to grieve the glorious dead."
For the victims of the Spanish flu, there was no national monument. A smattering of memorials exist across the country, many of which came nearly a century later.
With three deaths reported Tuesday, 10,000 Ontarians have now died with COVID-19, in a pandemic that stunned a generation and permanently altered lives. Nationwide, the toll is nearing 30,000. The coronavirus has exposed cracks in health-care systems, highlighted social inequities, and presented an unprecedented challenge for governments and ordinary people alike who faced an invisible enemy together, if often in isolation from those they loved.
As the province marks this awful milestone, many wonder: how will we remember the impact of this virus for generations to come? Will we want to remember? Is there a need for a public space to contemplate the grief and loss this pandemic has brought on thousands of Ontario families? Does the space need to also reflect on the jobs lost and lives upended by the uncertainty, and the inequity COVID-19 has exposed in our communities? If so, what would that look like?
The pandemic is not yet over, but temporary expressions of grief and solidarity have already emerged in Toronto. This includes an exhibition featuring portraits of people wearing masks that was displayed outside the Drake Hotel last year, and a public sunset memorial organized by the city in March to commemorate those who died from COVID-19, held at Nathan Phillips Square exactly one year after Toronto's first death. In the brisk wind, more than 2,500 candles were lit to mark each COVID death in the city, with people tuning in to the virtual ceremony from home.
Discussions about a permanent monument, however, have yet to take place. Sally Han, manager of cultural partnerships at the city of Toronto, said that monuments for traumatic events are not generally erected within five years of the event, citing as examples the 9/11 memorial in New York and the Boston Marathon bombing memorial.
The artists commissioned to work on such a project would need to be given a significant amount of time to process not only their own experience, but all the narratives that make up part of the COVID-19 experience," said Han, who added that any memorial space for the virus should serve as a point of collective healing and not exacerbate the divisions and inequities exposed by the pandemic.
Canadian monuments to the Spanish flu pandemic can be counted on one hand. In 2017, a monument was erected in the Regina Cemetery to honour the victims in that city. In 2018, the flu pandemic was designated a national historic event, with the unveiling of a plaque in Victoriaville, Que., where the first civilian cases were reported after thousands of visitors converged on the community for a religious event in the autumn of 1918.
There may be others, but they are not well publicized. The federal government funded a few education projects for the centenary in 2018, and even the news release acknowledged its relative historical obscurity, quoting then heritage minister Melanie Joly saying this sad and little-known episode deserves to be told."
It is difficult to find physical reminders in Toronto. One apparent memorial is a water fountain in the Beach dedicated to a beloved doctor who is said to have died during the 1918 pandemic, but Dr. William Young died in January 1918, well before Canada saw its first civilian cases. Heritage Toronto confirmed the error, and the organization is making plans to fix it.
The Spanish flu lingers in the margins of the built city. Heritage Toronto plaques manager Chris Bateman gives the example of the Prince Edward Viaduct. It opened at the height of the 1918 pandemic, and the ceremony was cut short by then mayor Tommy Church because of restrictions on gatherings. Plaques are concise by nature, and when it was written in 2018, that detail didn't make the cut.
Writing that plaque now as someone who has lived through a pandemic, I think I would place greater importance on that detail," Bateman wrote in an email.
Neil Brochu, Toronto's acting chief curator, said the stories of the Spanish flu were often commemorated in oral histories. Brochu's grandfather had two brothers who died in that pandemic, and that has always been an important part of his family story.
One partial explanation for the dearth of Spanish flu memorials compared to war monuments is that war tends to have a more straightforward narrative. One of the terrifying things about a pandemic is the lack of human agency involved," said Joshua Arthurs, an associate professor in the historical and cultural studies at the University of Toronto.
The First World War produced seismic shifts in society, and the Spanish flu happened at its end, when people had already endured incredible suffering. While the 1918 pandemic killed more people globally, the consequences of the war were felt globally and politically for decades, said Brochu.
Europeans and North Americans were obsessed" with commemorating the war and the memory of the pandemic got eclipsed by subsequent events," Arthurs said. The war had clear narratives of sacrifice and heroism that were easier to enlist in national mythmaking. The pandemic could not be presented as some great national cause" to rally behind, he says. There was no message of we can all beat this together," no comparable mobilization of society.
Instead, you had this very scattershot and very local approach to measures," he said.
For Maha Mustafa, an artist and sculptor whose large pieces of work are showcased prominently in Toronto's public spaces, a community COVID-19 memorial can be a necessary component for collective healing, especially after the pandemic has forced most to stay apart and be alone in their homes. She envisions it as an open space rooted in nature, like a forest with trees for each of the deceased and a large water fountain in the middle.
COVID-19 helps us understand that politics, culture, the economy are all connected with nature," said Mustafa, adding the nature of the virus drove and altered the directions of our lives, forcing us to halt our plans, to face the threat of the pandemic. COVID made the world very small."
A forest symbolizes growth and healing after a period of loss, and research has proven nature has a positive impact on mental health. It also symbolizes community and responsibility, Mustafa says, and can be a sustainable way to commemorate the pandemic as humanity deals with another existential threat: climate change.
Mustafa says it's important to capture the collective experience the pandemic has been by offering a place where people can gather together again and not only reflect on the lives lost to COVID-19, but also grieve the ways their lives have been altered. Everyone in the world (during the pandemic) felt the same feelings," said Mustafa, in their own individual way.
Earlier in her career, the Baghdad-born Mustafa spent a lot of time reflecting on war in Iraq. During those times, Mustafa said she needed time to process the trauma of displacement, destruction and suffering that comes with war before making art about it. But with COVID, she said there is a benefit in creating a memorial while people are experiencing it, to avoid the risk of losing the memory and unique perspective that comes from a once-in-a-generation pandemic.
She added that people are still suffering from the virus in different ways, whether grieving or struggling with lingering symptoms, and having a place to heal could lift spirits as we come out of the pandemic.
Arthurs says that grander national monuments" take longer to devise. People in 1918 didn't all see it the same way," he said of the Spanish flu. It takes time. It takes distance. Frankly, it takes forgetting in order to commemorate things."
The Department of Canadian Heritage requires a period of 25 years after an event that marks a key turning point" in Canada's evolution. (There are exceptions. In 2014, the government announced a monument would be built to honour Canada's mission in Afghanistan.)
The department said that no monument is in the works and no submissions have been received. With cases rising across the world, the pandemic is not yet a historical event.
Some historians believe that commemorations play a key role in highlighting the perils of the past. In 2016, New Zealand historian Geoffrey Rice began lobbying his government for a Spanish flu memorial. Rice didn't want the lessons of 1918 to be forgotten, and gave dozens of lectures on the topic, often to bureaucrats.
The memorial was unveiled in 2019, and during his speech, Rice stressed that the key takeaway from 1918 was the need to move fast" against a virus.
In an article for the Journal of Global History, Rice argued that commemorations of the 1918 pandemic had revived forgotten narratives and primed officials to respond quickly to COVID."
Those who seek to memorialize the COVID-19 pandemic will find many challenges. We are living in a moment of such extraordinary division," Joshua Arthurs said. Pandemics have always made people suspicious of each other. Think about the waves of antisemitic violence that usually accompanied the outbreak of the plague," he said.
Most of the memorials for the Spanish flu came 100 years later. A century from now, a memorial to COVID-19 will likely smooth over the contradictions and tensions of our experience, Arthurs said.
For now, some artists have already carved a place for people to heal, prioritizing the ability to give people a space to process their suffering in real time. Mirna Chacin, a Toronto-based photographer and artist, reflected on the pandemic experience early on.
Her interactive exhibition, Elegy for Souls on Hold" - on display at Cloverdale Mall in Etobicoke until Jan. 16 - features images she took in April 2020 of Mimico Creek during her quarantine walks. At the time, Chacin remembers news emerging that many seniors around the world were dying of COVID in isolation. Born and raised in Venezuela, Chacin recalled the many funerals she missed because she was in Canada, including that of her sister.
It was very challenging, and it put me in this web of sorrow," Chacin said. Taking photos of the creek became a form of meditation on the lives lost during the pandemic. With the help of the city's ArtworxTO project, her work was transformed into an interactive, immersive exhibition. When people view her photos through their phone cameras, faces of those who died during the pandemic appear.
The faces are clickable, with family photos and stories that viewers can explore to learn more about each person. The work features people who died from COVID-19, and those who died during the pandemic from other causes where families couldn't grieve together. It was a way for Chacin to offer a space for those who need to say goodbye to their loved ones," she said.
Watching people interact with her exhibition, Chacin realized the impact a space to grieve has on those drowning in sorrow. It has given many people some form of closure, she says, and a place to understand their sadness and pay homage to their loved ones in real time, rather than having to wait months or years.
A memorial doesn't have to be mired in politics or bureaucracy, she said. It can simply offer a place for communities to heal.
She recalled a New Jersey woman who painted large clamshells yellow and arranged them in the shape of a heart on a local beach to honour her brother, who died from COVID-19. The woman, Rima Samman, filled the heart with 150 stones, each representing a New Jersey resident who died from the virus.
A few weeks later, the memorial grew to 10 hearts and 2,000 stones.
All it takes is one person," Chacin said.
Nadine Yousif is a Toronto-based reporter for the Star covering mental health. Follow her on Twitter: @nadineyousif_
Katie Daubs is a Star reporter and feature writer based in Toronto. Follow her on Twitter: @kdaubs