Monuments or Memorials
In an extensive bibliography on monuments1, definitions are elusive. In particular, the terms 'monument' and 'memorial' are used interchangeably, their definitions often paradoxical and weakly articulated. Arthur Danto, reflecting on the Vietnam veterans Memorial in the USA, attempts to distinguish the latter from the former on the basis that whereas memorials speak of healing, remembrance and reconciliation, monuments are usually celebratory or triumphalist2. Simplistic though this is, it offers a starting point. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, a monument is 'a structure, edifice or erection intended to commemorate a person, action or event'. Definitions of 'memorial' focus on the intention to preserve memory and on their iconographic role in evoking remembrance. In common understanding a monument should bear the attributes of scale, permanence, longevity and visibility. Memorials by contrast, are often more intimate, local and personal, though they are still required to be durable and open to public gaze. While the monument has often been built to promote specific ideals and aspirations - from the Statue of Liberty to the Eiffel Tower - the memorial is essentially a retrospective form, idealising a past event, historic figure or deified place. The German cultural historian Alois Riegl devised a distinction between monuments that are 'wanted' - in the sense of satisfying a commemorative need - and those that are merely remnants, in the form of 'historical' or preserved remains that connect us to a revered past3. Drawing on Freud's work on mourning and melancholia, Michael Rowlands4 has argued that monuments become memorials as a result of the successful completion of a mourning process. Cousins further suggests that during the initial mourning period:

the object must die twice, first at the moment of its own death and secondly through the subject's unhitching from its own identification. It is only then that the subject can pass into history and that the stones can be set - for mourning and memorial are a phase apart5.

In a further refinement of this model, Winter6 identifies three distinct periods in the evolution of the public monument: an initial, creative phase - the construction of 'commemorative form' - which is marked by monument building and the creation of ceremony. Secondly, the 'grounding of ritual action in the calendar' through a process of institutionalisation and routinisation. Finally, their transformation or disappearance as 'active sites of memory' during a final phase that is largely contingent on whether a second generation of mourners inherits the earlier meanings attached to the place or event and adds new meanings. Without frequent re-insciption the date and place of commemoration simply fade away as memory atrophies; the monument loses its potency to reinvigorate memory.

This complex process is exemplified in the the case of monuments to distant wars. Here, as Inglis suggests, the technological difference is significant: 'where the French speak of monuments aux morts, the English say 'war memorials'.' Memorial leaves open the form of commemoration that may, or may not, be monumental7. In largely Protestant, voluntarist countries such as Britain, hospitals, libraries and other utilitarian memorials had long been considered to be structures appropriate for commemoration. Victorian and Edwardian Britain is strewn with the evidence of philanthropic and state benefaction. After the Great War, British memorials varied in object from avenues of trees to utilitarian schemes such as community halls, recreation grounds, convalescent homes8 and, in one case, a waterpipe to a local school9. However, in 1919 the need to find a tolerable meaning to the Great war more often demanded monumental form. Reverential structures such as cenotaphs had several functions. Initially they acted as a focus for personal, public and civic displays of grief. Their iconic form helped to reassure noncombatants and relatives that the dead died for a greater cause, on that was linked to abstract values of nationhood, camaraderie or Christian citizenship. Through the annual ritual of Armistice services they gradually became the focus of communal and individual remembrance opening up a discourse of healing, regret and reflection. In their monumental form, Rowlands suggests that war memorials

Should ideally allow the fusion of the living with the dead in an act of remembrance whilst in time providing a way out of melancholia through an act of transcendence10.

In this way, they function as palliative topoi that help resolve the conditions of 'negativity and impotence' aroused by violent death, particularly of the young. Of course not all war memorials act in this way; some are bombastic and celebratory, embellishing the past, promoting pride in distant victories and asserting inflated values of nationhood. Interestingly, most memorials to the Great War have latterly assumed a wider role, becoming the epicentre for annual civic commemoration for all 20th century wars - a role that encompasses both global conflict (the Second World War) and territorial skirmishes (the Falklands War). In this way they are periodically re-inscribed with values and meanings often beyond their original remit.

For ostensibly conventional and uncomplicated icons, monuments to warfare, and perhaps even more so to warriors, often arouse complex passions. Consider the furore over the installation of a statue to Sir Arthur 'Bomber' Harris in London in 199211 or the alleged 'desecration' of the Whitehall Cenotaph during may day protests in 200012. Of two issues, however, we can be more certain; monuments are seldom built to commemorate continuing events or to honour those still living. This explains, suggests Lowenthal, our queasiness when we are commemorated13. Secondly, the building of memorials is widely intended as a terminal act, indicating closure and the completion of a segment of historical past. Monuments, according to Hynes14, are crucial icons in the official act of closure, the ultimate solidification in the 'discourse of big words': 'heroism', 'gallantry', 'glory', 'victory', though only occasionally, 'peace'.

In 1988, the Canadian Ministry of National Defence announced that a monument would be erected in the capital city, Ottawa, dedicated to Canadian forces who had served in peacekeeping activity since the Second World War. This announcement followed the award of the 1988 Nobel Peace Prize to the UN tom mark forty years of international peacekeeping.

Since 1948, under the auspices of the UN, Canada had contributed over 80,000 men and women from all branches of the armed forces to global peacekeeping. During the 1950's and 1960's Canada was the greatest contributor of 'Blue Helmets' and the undisputed leader in peacekeeping. Although never at the heart of Canada's foreign policy, Canadian politicians liked to be seen as projecting an image as 'fixers' acting as a voice of moderation between the extremes of the two superpowers during the Cold War stand-off. It was a Canadian statesman, Leonard B. Pearson who first used the UN Charter to create the idea of an international Blue helmet peacekeeping force - a concept that earned him a Nobel Peace Prize. Mandates for the peacekeeping, however, were extremely complex:

In Namibia, they supervised elections; in the hills of Afghanistan they monitored the withdrawal of a foreign army; in the deserts of the Middle East, they observed the ceasefire between Iran and Iraq; and in Cyprus, they have stood between two conflicting communities since 196432.

In the late 1970's global peacekeeping was largely dominated by a small number of countries that were perceived as neutral or nonaligned. Countries such as Canada, Ireland, Fiji and Nepal formed the peacekeeping core and were regarded as 'honest brokers without geo-political interests33'. As one of the largest contributors to UN peacekeeping, Canada became entitled to a major voice in international debate, gaining a reputation that went beyond the resources that it devoted to peacekeeping initiatives34.

This standing was compromised firstly in 1991 when Canadian troops became part of the International Coalition against Iraq, but more acutely in 1993 when a Canadian Airborne Regiment on peacekeeping duty in Somalia was involved in the torture and murder of a sixteen-year-old Somali boy who had broken into the compound of Belet Huen to pilfer food. Following a Court Martial and a Board of Inquiry, a 1,600 page report found that the rules of engagement had been unclear, the Canadian mission had been poorly planned, there were failures of leadership and recurrent problems with military dicipline35. Participation in the Gulf War had not compromised Canada's reputation as a 'disinterested' peacekeeper36. The Somali imbroglio was different; branded as racist and maverick the Airborne Regiment was disbanded and disgraced. In 1994 the US government asked whether the UN was actually capable of managing its own peacekeeping operations. Canada's reputation as global 'umpire' had been blemished.

All this lay in the future when the Department of National Defence (DND) launched the Peacekeeping Monument competition. Proposed and initiated by the DND, the competition was managed by a committee consisting of representatives from the DND, the National Capital Commission and Public Works Canada. Recognising the monument's dual role as public art and urban design, the committee invited five sculptors and five urban designers to form design teams drawn from practices and studios throughout Canada. A five-preson jury, selected from the Canadian military, arts and 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 - 12 October 1990). The winning team would receive a fee of $175,000. Work on site was intended to commence in September 1991, with the sculpture installed in August 1992.

In the Competition guidelines the guiding spirit of the monument was made clear; '(it) is 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.

In phrasing the designer's brief, the authors of the Guidelines recognised the difficulty in reaching a 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 principles37 that were to guide the invited competitors. Of overriding importance was the a requirement that the monument 'include literal images and words' that would clearly explain the activities commemorated by it. Any symbolic language had to be intelligible to 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'. As we shall see, 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, which would encourage social interaction and accommodate formal events. In this capacity, its location was particularly appropriate. Sandwiched between two major roads, Sussex and Mackenzie, the site for the proposed monument lay at the heart of a bold urban development scheme which included the new National Gallery of Canada, 200m to the north-west, and the site of the proposed US Embassy, 50m 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 Major Hills Park, with its important sightlines to Parliament Hill and other state buildings, to the west (see figure 1). In detailing these principal events, ideas and urban markers the commissioners sought to replicate the symbolic and architectural properties of the National War memorial which is situated some 400m to the south of the space set aside for the Peacekeeping monument. As this is a key architectural marker in the city we must examine the circumstances that surrounded the siting of this hugely symbolic monument.

	(above) the Primary site
	(above) the Extended site