By Walter Kish

Since reading Lubomyr Luciuk’s last book, Searching For Place, about a year ago, I have been eagerly looking forward to his next effort. There have been some excellent books on Ukrainian history in the English language published in the past decade, particularly the comprehensive treatments authored by Orest Subtelny and Paul Magocsi, and the translations of two volumes of Hrushevsky’s definitive history of Ukraine written earlier this century. However, these have dealt primarily with the history of the Ukrainian homeland. There has been far too little published on the experiences of Ukrainians in the diaspora, and those in Canada specifically. Searching For Place was one of the first significant books to deal with this topic, focusing on the experiences of the large wave of refugees and “DP’s” that came to this country in the wake of the Second World War. It was well researched and provided a detailed and often intimate picture of the trials and tribulations of not only of the immigrants seeking to come to Canada, but also of the efforts and the politics of the then established Canadian Ukrainian community. What made it particularly interesting and engaging was Luciuk’s vivid pictures of some of the interesting individuals that were prominent and influential in the events of those days, such as Bohdan Panchuk and Stanley Frolick.

I was expecting something similar when In Fear of The Barbed Wire Fence was released several months ago, and though I was initially disappointed to find it a much less ambitious and thorough effort compared to Searching For Place, there is still much to like about it. The book was originally published as a much shorter monograph titled A Time For Atonement in 1988. In this updated version, Luciuk has revised and expanded the content, adding significant new material, particularly photographs and original source documents. It deals with that particularly shameful period of Canadian history during the First World War when the Canadian government, in a fit of irrational and racist paranoia interned over 8000 so-called “enemy aliens”, most of them Ukrainians, whose only sin was that they immigrated from what then was the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Their property was confiscated and they were sent to hard-labour camps in some of the more remote regions of Canada, including Spirit Lake in northern Quebec, Kapuskasing, Ontario, Castle Mountain, Alberta and Fernie, B.C. Upon their release, which for some did not come until 1920, many found their property had been stolen and inadequate or no compensation was forthcoming. For some, there was no release – 107 died in captivity. Of these six were shot trying to escape, while three committed suicide. In addition, some 106 had to be committed to insane asylums following their internment experience.

For the past several decades the Ukrainian Canadian Congress (UCC) and the Ukrainian Canadian Civil Liberties Association (UCCLA) has been pressing the Canadian government to recognize the wrong done and provide redress. Despite promises made by various leaders, including Jean Chretien, there has been no action taken. What is particularly galling is that in 1954, the Canadian government of the day ordered the deliberate destruction of all files and archival material dealing with the internment operations. Official government policy throughout this century appears to have been to try and ignore that this shameful deed ever happened. The Ukrainian community however, through the UCC and UCCLA is determined to make sure that Canada does not forget. To date, some 17 trilingual historical plaques have been installed on the sites of many of the internment camps and processing stations.

The book is rich in original source material and explanatory notes. Of its 170 page length, more than two thirds consist of appendices and notes. The book is enriched by numerous pictures showing grim faced internees, armed guards, harsh and barren landscapes, and the lifeless corpses of would-be escapees. What I found almost dumbfounding is quotes from some of the politicians and newspapers of the day. An editorial in the Porcupine Advance opined: “In a country like this where the ‘white people’ are in a minority, it is desirable at the least that alien enemies should be taught that they must observe strictly the very easy laws and rules that govern them”.

Ukrainians were not only considered “enemy aliens” but were not even considered “white”! MP Herbert Clement was particularly harsh: “I demand of this government that each and every alien in this dominion should be deported at the earliest opportunity. Cattle ships are good enough for them.”

It was a tough time to be Ukrainian. In 1914, the Toronto city government ordered that all Germans, Austrians or Turks employed in city jobs be discharged. Even after the war, attitudes were slow to change. One returned veteran complained in a letter to the editor: “Surely a man who has spent months in the trenches ought to work under a ‘White Man’ and not a ‘Bohunk’. It’s bad enough to have fought these people’s relations without having to be bossed by them.”

The prejudices were as overt as they were ignorant, yet they were not only tolerated by the establishment of the day, but often actively supported and encouraged.

The book is a definite eye opener. Painful though it may be at times to read, it should be compulsory reading to all of us complacent and comfortable descendants of those “enemy aliens”. We should keep in mind that there are still people alive who were witnesses, albeit young, to those events.

My ardent wish is that Prof. Luciuk will at some point in the future accord a more comprehensive treatment to this topic as he did to the period of history covered in Searching For Place. Documents, official records, newspaper archives and pictures only give us part of the picture. Reading In Fear of the Barbed Wire Fence introduces us to events and individuals that beg for more detail. There are stories, many stories that need to be told.

There is, for example, the tragic case of Wasyl Perchaliuk, a paroled internee who enlisted in the Canadian army, only to be arrested prior to departure. In his despondency, he committed suicide in a Calgary jail cell.

There is the enigmatic Major-General Sir William Dillon Otter who was in over-all charge of internment operations. Despite initial personal reservations regarding the task, he ran the camps with calculating efficiency. In his final report, he takes particular pride in the fact that only some one and a half percent of all internees died while in his custody.

The book also makes passing and sketchy mention of a full-fledged riot that occurred in the camp in Kapuskasing in 1916 with conflicting reports about the number of internees that were wounded and killed.

There are many more stories to be told and many more questions that deserve to be answered. The tragedy of those years needs to be explored in greater detail. This book provides an excellent start, but leaves you yearning for more.