The Secretary of State added that the result of the audit would be certified by Nov. 20, which is Georgia’s deadline to do so.
The decision is coming hours after Trump’s campaign organisation and the Georgia Republican Party demanded a hand recount before the results were certified.
Thomas Klassen, York University, Canada
A refrain of American politics is the lack of representation of women, Blacks and Hispanics in the political arena. But almost as striking in 2020 is the exclusion of young people.
Those at the highest levels of the American government have never been older: Joe Biden, the next president, is currently 77 and will celebrate a birthday later this month. Nancy Pelosi, speaker of the House of Representatives, is 80. Senate majority leader Mitch McConnell is 78. Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts is young by comparison at 65, but four of his eight colleagues are older than him.
It hasn’t always been this way. John F. Kennedy, Bill Clinton and Barack Obama began their terms of office while in their 40s. In contrast, Donald Trump was 70 when he assumed power in 2016 and Biden will be 78.
The age of those holding executive, legislative and judicial power in Washington, D.C., sends a warning. American politicians are much more generous to the old than they are to the young. After all, the country does have public health care, but only for those 65 and older.
Social Security retirement benefits are the third rail of politics that few politicians dare touch. Among the most feared, fierce and well-funded lobby groups in Washington is the American Association for Retired Persons, known as AARP, which advocates for the interests of those 50 and over.
The aging of the political class illustrates how (old) age is now accepted in workplaces and more generally in the public domain. The U.S. was the first country to ban mandatory retirement at age 65. This ensures that workers are judged not on their chronological age but, rather, on their performance.
Like politicians, the vast majority of Americans now work in the services sector where most jobs place a premium on social competencies, knowledge and the ability to continue learning, rather than on physical strength.
Whether in politics or outside it, long careers also mean more experience, connections and opportunities to call in favours. Biden ran for president in 1988 and 2008, served for 36 years in the Senate and was Obama’s vice-president for two terms. McConnell was first elected to the Senate in 1984, and Pelosi to the House of Representatives in 1987.
Older politicians have an advantage at the polls because their fellow older citizens are much more likely to cast a ballot than the young. For presidential elections, more than 70 per cent of the electorate age 60 and older casts a vote, but less than 50 per cent of those 18 to 29. This pattern did not change in 2020. Although youth turnout was higher for the 2020 election than in 2016, it is estimated that only half of those aged 18 to 29 cast a vote.
Not only are older citizens more likely to vote, but there are more of them in the United States than ever before. Half of those who vote in elections are over 50.
As such, the abundance of powerful older politicians in Washington comes as no surprise.
Perhaps because older people have been so successful in politics, ageist stereotypes were largely absent from the recent presidential election. Although Trump sought to portray Biden as “Sleepy Joe,” this never gained traction among most of the electorate.
If 65 is the new 55, then in politics, 75 seems the new 65. The very notion of “old,” in fact, is under revision and reconstruction. After all, women regularly give birth in their 40s and in some cases even later.
But intergenerational conflict may nonetheless grow in America in the post-pandemic era when difficult decisions and trade-offs will have to be made. Older voters will fight to protect Social Security and Medicare entitlements, and more generally, the well-being and safety they have earned. Reforms that older voters demand are typically gradual in nature.
Younger voters have different political interests and are less loyal to established traditions. Young people are much more affected by political decisions surrounding drug use, abortion and crime and want to see rapid reforms. America’s young adults will demand action on creating and protecting jobs, ensuring educational opportunities and dealing with injustice.
It remains to be seen if Washington’s gerontocracy, headed by Biden, will be able to reconcile the priorities of the young with those of the old. The president-elect has successfully enticed more young people to participate in politics, but it’s far from certain that he’ll serve their interests.
Thomas Klassen, Professor, School of Public Policy and Administration, York University, Canada
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Gorana Grgic, University of Sydney
Throughout the four years of Donald Trump’s presidency, Joe Biden spent significant time reassuring American allies around the world that
and pledging “we’ll be back”.Now that he’s the president-elect, those who were most worried about another four years of “America First” foreign policy are no doubt breathing a sigh of relief.
Much has been written about a Biden presidency being focused on restoration, or as David Graham of The Atlantic put it,
returning the United States to its rightful place before (as he sees it) the current president came onto the scene and trashed the joint.
This idea has revolved around restoring the post-1945 liberal international order - a term subject to a lot of academic contention. The US played a central role in creating and leading the order around key institutions such as the United Nations, International Monetary Fund, World Trade Organisation, North Atlantic Treaty Organisation and the like.
However, there is now no shortage of evidence that many of these institutions have come under extreme strain in recent years and have been unable respond to the challenges of the 21st century geopolitics.
For one, the US no longer wields the relative economic power or influence it had in the middle of last century. There are also increasingly vocal critics in the US — led by Trump — who question America’s foreign commitments.
Moreover, nations themselves are no longer the only important actors in the international system. Terror groups like the Islamic State now have the ability to threaten global security, while corporations like Alphabet, Amazon, Apple and Facebook have such economic power, their combined revenue would qualify them for the G20.
Equally, the so-called liberal international order was built on the idea that a growing number of democracies would be willing to work within institutions like the UN, IMF and WTO and act in ways that would make everyone in the system better off.
Clearly, that has not been the case for the past 15 years as democracies around the world slowly eroded, from European Union states like Hungary and Poland to Brazil to the US.
Read more: Biden wins – experts on what it means for race relations, US foreign policy and the Supreme Court
Trump’s 2016 election seemed to have been the final nail in the coffin for the idea of a truly liberal international order with the US as a benevolent leader.
From his first days in office, Trump was on a mission to roll back US commitments to myriad organisations, deals and relationships around the world. Most significantly, this included questioning commitments to its closest allies in Europe, Asia and elsewhere that had been unwavering for generations.
Biden takes over at a precarious time. The world is more unstable than it has been in decades and the US image has been severely damaged by the actions and rhetoric of his predecessor.
There is no naivety on Biden’s part that he will be able to fix everything that was broken along the way. After all, many of these challenges predated Trump and are merely a reflection of a changing world.
Furthermore, Biden will have many pressing domestic issues that will demand his immediate attention — first and foremost addressing the greatest public health and economic crisis in a century.
We are also likely to see growing pressure for Biden to pursue a more progressive climate policy and a better-managed industrial policy, though he’ll be greatly constrained in what he can do if the Republicans maintain control of the Senate.
All of this will limit both his bandwidth and appetite for an overly ambitious foreign policy agenda.
Read more: What would a Biden presidency mean for Australia?
Given this, Biden’s presidency should be approached with managed expectations. Unlike President Barack Obama, he did not campaign on lofty promises of change. He ran on being the opposite of Trump and, as such, being better able to understand the intricacies of foreign policy.
This will mean a swift return to multilateralism and rejoining the deals and organisations Trump abandoned, from the Paris climate agreement and Iran nuclear deal to the the World Trade Organisation and World Health Organisation.
Given these moves by Trump required no congressional input, Biden will be able to return to Obama-era policies in a relatively straightforward fashion through executive action.
However, this didn’t produce the expected “blue wave” and national repudiation of Trumpism, so it remains to be seen whether friends and foes alike can be convinced the past four years were an aberration. In essence, how good can America’s word be moving forward?
Biden’s campaign put a great emphasis on strengthening America’s existing alliances and forging new ones to maintain what he frequently refers to as “a free world”.
This will involve a substantial change from the way Trump managed US alliances, nurturing relationships with authoritarian leaders in the Middle East, for example, and some of the least liberal eastern European states.
This shift will benefit America’s traditional allies in western Europe the most. However, these countries are more determined than ever to stop depending on the whims of the Electoral College to decide their security. Instead, they are strengthening their own defence capabilities.
Lastly, on the greatest geopolitical question of our time, there is no doubt the US will continue its competition with China in the coming years, no matter who is president.
Yet, there are still plenty of questions around how Biden will handle this relationship. His campaign adopted a much more hawkish stance toward China compared to the Obama administration, which reflects a growing bipartisan consensus the US must get tougher with Beijing.
Read more: Trump took a sledgehammer to US-China relations. This won't be an easy fix, even if Biden wins
At the same time, there is significant debate about how far his administration should push Beijing on issues ranging from technological competition to human rights, particularly given Biden has said the US needs to find a way to cooperate with China on other pressing issues, such as climate change, global health and arms control.
America might be coming back under Biden, but this is not the same world or the same country it once was. So, while the restoration of the US will be challenging, one thing is certain: “America First” finished second.
Gorana Grgic, Lecturer in US Politics and Foreign Policy, US Studies Centre, University of Sydney
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
As I took a train from New York’s Penn Station in February last year and travelled through Amish country en route to my home town of Harrisburg, I reflected on the history and importance of this great state. I knew then, as I know now, that Pennsylvania would have profound effects on the 2020 election.
The rolling hills and countryside scenes, the mighty Susquehanna River, along which I watched countless 4th of July fireworks displays growing up, and the idyllic setting of my original 1757 family home nestled in Hemlock Hollow along the Yellow Breeches River, all filled my thoughts with how this original colony became and remains the keystone to understanding the complexities of American politics.
Known as the “Keystone State” for its geographical centrality to the 13 original colonies, Pennsylvania has played a significant role in US history. Independence Hall in Philadelphia is the site where George Washington became commander in chief of the Continental Army in 1775.
It’s also where the Declaration of Independence was adopted the following year, the US flag was designed and where the founders spent the summer crafting and then adopting the US constitution in 1787. Philadelphia was the temporary capital of the US between 1790 and 1800 while Washington DC was being built.
The state is home to Gettysburg, where after three days of fierce fighting in July 1863 during the American Civil War and over 60,000 casualties, the Union Army defeated Confederate forces, held back “Picketts Charge”, and forced General Robert E Lee to withdraw south to Virginia, ending his push to invade the North.
Pennsylvania is also known as the “Quaker State” with its prevalence of this religious community, instrumental in fomenting antislavery abolitionism. It has given its name to motor oil company Quaker State Oil, after oil was discovered near the Allegheny River in 1859 and the Quakers mascot of the University of Pennsylvania, founded by Benjamin Franklin in 1740, where I was a student in the 1980s.
The state is known for its American football teams the Pittsburgh Steelers and Philadelphia Eagles, the baseball teams Pittsburgh Pirates and Phillies, and hockey teams the Pittsburgh Penguins and Philadelphia Flyers. Outside the state’s capital city of Harrisburg, Hershey is home to the famous chocolate brand where its street lights are made in the shape of the famous Hershey kisses.
Economically, the state has seen a mix of big industry, farming and commerce, and boasts a number of leading universities. Its history of steel production and subsequent decline makes it a “rustbelt” state, where economic transformation has created different sets of political interests that affect voting patterns across the state.
The number of blue collar jobs have been hit hard over many years of industrial decline and the pandemic has exacerbated the problem with a further 19% drop in employment for those earning less than US$27,000 per year.
Politically, the state has participated in all presidential elections, voting Democratic in the six elections prior to 2016, when Donald Trump won the state with 0.7% margin of the vote. In the early years of the 20th century, the state had 38 electoral votes, but owing to migration out of the state, it now has 20.
Senate seats have been dominated by Republicans, while House seats have seen more of a mixed picture. Since 1974, there have been seven Democratic and five Republican state governors. Since 1992, the state legislature has been dominated by Republicans.
This patchwork of political control is typical of a swing state, and reflects its urban-rural split and other demographic features. The population density in large urban areas make the conversion of popular votes into electoral college votes a key focus of presidential elections.
For the 2020 election, the state legislature prohibited any early processing of mail-in ballots, the sheer volume of which under the threat of the pandemic took a long time to count after the polls officially closed.
The counting process is overseen by a bi-partisan commission, holed up in the Philadelphia Convention Center. On November 5, police foiled a planned attack from a group who had travelled from out of the state in an effort to halt the counting of votes.
Trump’s claim that same night that he had already won Pennsylvania could not be substantiated, since state voting rules allow for ballots to be counted until November 6 as long as they have been postmarked by November 3, election day – an approach that was upheld by the US Supreme Court.
Pennsylvania has once again played a key role in American political history. And it is likely to remain a key battleground state for presidential elections in years to come.
Todd Landman, Professor of Political Science, Pro Vice Chancellor of the Social Sciences, University of Nottingham
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
William Chittenden, Texas State University
On day one, a newly inaugurated President Joe Biden will have to address a devastated economy – much like he and former President Barack Obama did a decade ago.
What can the country expect?
Forecasting how the economy will perform under a new president is generally a fool’s errand. How much or how little credit the person in the White House deserves for the health of the economy is a matter of debate, and no economist can confidently predict how the president’s policies will play out – if they even go into effect – or what challenges might emerge.
Regardless, voters tend to believe it makes a difference. And going into the election, 79% of registered voters – and 88% of Trump supporters – said the economy was their top concern. Given that, historical data suggests that those who are concerned with the economy have reason to be fairly satisfied with the election results: The economy generally fares better under Democratic presidents.
Biden will be inheriting an economy with serious problems. Things have improved markedly since the darkest days – at least, so far – of the pandemic back in the spring, but the economy remains in a dire state.
The latest jobs report shows that 11 million people remain unemployed – a third of whom have been without a job for at least 27 weeks – down from a peak of 23 million in April. Tens of thousands of small businesses and dozens of major retail chains have closed or filed for bankruptcy. Many states, cities and municipal agencies are reeling from the tremendous costs of spring lockdowns. And the economy has contracted 2.8% since the end of 2019.
And that doesn’t include the impact of what some officials – including Biden – have dubbed a “dark winter,” as severe coronavirus outbreaks in many regions of the U.S. prompt new economic restrictions.
In trying to get a sense of what kind of impact the election result will have on the economy, the past is a useful guide.
I study how the economy performs depending on which political party is in charge. Earlier this year, I did an analysis of this question, focusing on 1976 to 2016, and recently updated the data to include 1953 through October of this year.
In general, since President Dwight D. Eisenhower took office in 1953, the economy – as measured by gross domestic product, unemployment, inflation and recessions – has typically performed better with a Democrat in the White House. GDP growth has been significantly higher; inflation – a measure of the change in prices – has been lower; and unemployment has tended to fall.
The stock market tends to perform better with a Democratic president, rising 11% per year on average compared to 6.8% for Republicans. Despite his claims to the contrary, the stock market’s performance under President Donald Trump has been about average.
Perhaps the most striking difference I found is in the number of months the economy was in recession, as determined by the National Bureau of Economic Research. From 1953 to 2016, Republicans controlled the White House for 432 months, about 23% of which were spent in recession. Democratic presidents held the reins for 336 months in that period, just 4% of which were in recession. The 2020 recession began in March has not been officially declared over.
One suggested explanation for this dramatic difference is that deregulation implemented during Republican administrations leads to financial crises, which in turn cause recessions. Another is that factors a president does not have any control over, like a sudden increase in oil prices, are the usual causes of recessions. Others suggest that the economy’s better performance under Democrats is simply due to luck.
So even though voters tend to think Republicans do a better job steering the economy, historical data shows otherwise. Whether Biden continues that streak, of course, remains to be seen, especially given he’ll likely have a Republican-controlled Senate, which could frustrate his policy initiatives.
In my analysis, I also examined the impact of Congress and how having all, part or none of the legislative branch controlled by the president’s party affected the economy’s performance.
Interestingly, the U.S. has not seen Democrats in control of the White House and the House of Representatives with Republicans in charge of the Senate since 1889, when Grover Cleveland was president. So my dataset, going back to 1953, doesn’t shed any light on this particular legislative configuration.
However, I did find that the economy did pretty well when a Democratic president faces either one or both houses of Congress controlled by the opposition. During the 144 months when one of those conditions were true, the U.S. was never in recession. And when Republicans controlled Congress under a Democratic president, average monthly unemployment was the lowest of any condition, at 4.85%.
Of course, this doesn’t mean a divided government will lead to good results today. A pessimistic take is that there will be gridlock, and nothing will get done. In order to pass and sustain major initiatives, bipartisanship will be needed.
There’s an off chance that Democrats take control of the Senate if two runoff elections scheduled for January in Georgia both fall into the Democrats’ column. Historically, such a Democratic trifecta existed for 192 months, 14 of which – 7% – were in recession.
History also has a lot to say about recovering from an economic collapse, which keeps taking longer.
For example, it took only 11 months for the job market to recover from the 1980 recession, but 77 to recover the jobs lost in the Great Recession that lasted from 2007 to 2009. If this trend continues, it could be 2027 or later before the job market fully recovers from the pandemic-induced recession.
But the past doesn’t predict the future, and I believe the policies a president pursues and is able to implement still matter.
During the campaign, Biden proposed several ambitious spending plans, such as “build back better,” which would invest in American infrastructure and clean energy, as well as “buy American.” In all, Biden has proposed US$2 trillion to $4.2 trillion of additional measures to fight the pandemic’s economic effects, according to an analysis by the nonpartisan Committee for a Responsible Budget.
His economic plan cannot be implemented without the cooperation of Congress. Investment in infrastructure has historically had bipartisan support so Biden and Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell may find some common ground there. But although McConnell has indicated fiscal relief will be a top priority, he has opposed another large coronavirus bill.
It’s impossible to predict whether Republicans will choose bipartisanship or obstructionism, but I remain hopeful – given Biden’s history of moderation – that the new president and Congress will do what is needed to move the economy forward.
William Chittenden, Associate Dean for Graduate Programs and Presidential Fellow, Texas State University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
This is how Canadian battlefield painter Mary Riter Hamilton (1867-1954) summarized her urgent response to witnessing the large-scale destruction of the First World War.
The 51-year-old artist began painting the devastated regions of Northern France and Flanders in late April 1919 and continued until November 1921. During this period, she often rushed from one battlefield to the next to paint the scenes in oil before the war detritus was cleared or the dead were buried.
Hamilton first sought work with the Canadian War Memorials Fund in 1917, and again in 1918 as an official artist, but was rejected because she was a woman. After this, she embraced alternate means to gain permission and financial support for her expedition.
Fuelling her unprecedented expedition through the trenches of the Vimy Ridge, the Somme and the ruins of Ypres was her patriotic desire to create a memorial in paintings for her country.
My forthcoming book, I Can Only Paint: The Story of Battlefield Painter Mary Riter Hamilton, features her letters and the first exhaustive account of her vast, under-explored oeuvre and her powerful visual rhetoric as a battlefield artist.
As a witness of mass graves and human remains, Hamilton responded with a painting style that made viewers see and feel her deeply felt and ultimately traumatic encounters, rendered in vivid colours, spontaneous brushstrokes and tumultuous landscapes.
Hamilton transgressed the rules of both gender and art in her day. Hamilton first embraced her artistic vocation after her husband’s sudden death when she was 26.
In early 1919, she was commissioned by the war amputees club of British Columbia, who paid for Hamilton’s trip overseas, and likely for two shipments of her paintings back to Vancouver. The club reproduced her paintings in colour in their magazine but discontinued their support after one year. Hamilton continued while using up her personal resources and relying on sporadic support from a female patron in Victoria, B.C.
When Hamilton left Canada, she was at the height of a brilliant career, at that time much more recognized than painter Emily Carr.
Artists with the Canadian War Memorial Fund made brief sketching trips to battlefields and then prepared polished and monumental paintings in their London and Paris studios. As art historian Laura Brandon has shown, artists such as Arthur Lismer and Frederick Varley used photographs, which they combined with their own experience to compose war paintings as amalgamated scenes. The most famous of these Canadian War Memorial-commissioned paintings, Richard Jack’s The Second Battle of Ypres, reconstructed dramatic combat by using unrealistic 19th-century war art conventions, although the artist had visited the battlefield after the fight.
Hamilton, by contrast, transgressed official war painting norms to pioneer her own visceral style that blurred boundaries between documentary realism and esthetic urgency. Many of her works exhibit a haunting blankness, recalling the missing soldiers. She also painted individual soldiers’ marked graves, as well as mass graves where entire regiments had perished. In so doing, she insisted on remembering and mourning each individual loss.
She painted on small canvases or pieces of plywood or paper while trekking through collapsing trenches and swamps en route to remote areas. Her work can be seen as a part of what political theorist Michal Givoni has identified as a 20th-century shift towards mobilizing acts of witnessing as a vocation by showing difficult truths in public.
Among the handful of women who painted the First World War, Hamilton stands out for the magnitude of her work, the length of her stay in the battlefields and her empathic esthetic achievements.
Today, we have witnessed disturbing images of mass graves during the COVID-19 pandemic in the same time that our society is reckoning with what it means to make ethical choices as we confront connections between systemic inequities, violence and historical trauma. How we think about and understand Hamilton’s courageous, determined and perilous engagement of mass death is more important than ever.
In Memorial for the Second Canadian Division in a Mine Crater Near Neuville St. Vaast (circa 1920) Hamilton visualizes the shocking decimation of an entire regiment with an alarmingly deep hole, whose cutaway view gives viewers a startling, open perspective.
Also concerned with survivors, she recorded scenes of reconstruction, as in Cloth Hall, Ypres – Market Day (1920). This showed grieving family members at a distance and depicted signs of hope and new life.
On her expedition, Hamilton overnighted in war-torn Nissen huts erected for military shelter and storage or other makeshift shelters. By 1920, her war studios included a bombed-out attic in Arras, France. She often ground her colours on the battlefield. She lived in extreme poverty, often starving and putting her life in danger.
Art historians Robert Amos and Ash Prakash have begun to document Hamilton’s important pre-war contributions to Canadian impressionism.
Beginning in 1989, historian Angela Davis, with art historian Sarah McKinnon,
about Hamilton.For Remembrance Day this year, Canada Post has dedicated a stamp to Hamilton’s memory, featuring her 1919 painting Trenches on the Somme in which scarlet poppies grow along white chalk walls of the trench. The painting exhibits her trademark style, which often puts the viewer inside a trench.
Hamilton brought home more than 320 battlefield works painted in oil, or drawn in pencil, charcoal or pastel, along with etchings. She donated 227 to the Dominion Archives (today Library and Archives Canada).
In 1922, Hamilton was awarded one of France’s highest honours, the Ordre des Palmes académiques.
Hamilton’s life and legacy leaves us much to reflect on today. As an artist who embraced witnessing as a vocation, she broke barriers and insisted upon artistically rendering what she saw with candour. Her perception and embodied art practice also left a unique record of the physical and moral devastation of war, both in her art and in her own life.
As a woman artist travelling through battlefields, she experienced mobility, articulated a vision of empathy and contributed to a public record of the war. Yet how she engaged with her craft and what she saw took a toll on her health and ultimately curtailed her career as a painter. She suffered from post-traumatic stress and a major mental breakdown and other health problems following her expedition. War painting would mark her for life.
Hamilton summed up her achievement with understatement: “Yes, it was like living in a graveyard … but I felt this was a duty that someone must do, and I thought I would try to do it.”
Irene Gammel, Professor & Director, MLC Research Centre and Gallery, Ryerson University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
This is how Canadian battlefield painter Mary Riter Hamilton (1867-1954) summarized her urgent response to witnessing the large-scale destruction of the First World War.
The 51-year-old artist began painting the devastated regions of Northern France and Flanders in late April 1919 and continued until November 1921. During this period, she often rushed from one battlefield to the next to paint the scenes in oil before the war detritus was cleared or the dead were buried.
Hamilton first sought work with the Canadian War Memorials Fund in 1917, and again in 1918 as an official artist, but was rejected because she was a woman. After this, she embraced alternate means to gain permission and financial support for her expedition.
Fuelling her unprecedented expedition through the trenches of the Vimy Ridge, the Somme and the ruins of Ypres was her patriotic desire to create a memorial in paintings for her country.
My forthcoming book, I Can Only Paint: The Story of Battlefield Painter Mary Riter Hamilton, features her letters and the first exhaustive account of her vast, under-explored oeuvre and her powerful visual rhetoric as a battlefield artist.
As a witness of mass graves and human remains, Hamilton responded with a painting style that made viewers see and feel her deeply felt and ultimately traumatic encounters, rendered in vivid colours, spontaneous brushstrokes and tumultuous landscapes.
Hamilton transgressed the rules of both gender and art in her day. Hamilton first embraced her artistic vocation after her husband’s sudden death when she was 26.
In early 1919, she was commissioned by the war amputees club of British Columbia, who paid for Hamilton’s trip overseas, and likely for two shipments of her paintings back to Vancouver. The club reproduced her paintings in colour in their magazine but discontinued their support after one year. Hamilton continued while using up her personal resources and relying on sporadic support from a female patron in Victoria, B.C.
When Hamilton left Canada, she was at the height of a brilliant career, at that time much more recognized than painter Emily Carr.
Artists with the Canadian War Memorial Fund made brief sketching trips to battlefields and then prepared polished and monumental paintings in their London and Paris studios. As art historian Laura Brandon has shown, artists such as Arthur Lismer and Frederick Varley used photographs, which they combined with their own experience to compose war paintings as amalgamated scenes. The most famous of these Canadian War Memorial-commissioned paintings, Richard Jack’s The Second Battle of Ypres, reconstructed dramatic combat by using unrealistic 19th-century war art conventions, although the artist had visited the battlefield after the fight.
Hamilton, by contrast, transgressed official war painting norms to pioneer her own visceral style that blurred boundaries between documentary realism and esthetic urgency. Many of her works exhibit a haunting blankness, recalling the missing soldiers. She also painted individual soldiers’ marked graves, as well as mass graves where entire regiments had perished. In so doing, she insisted on remembering and mourning each individual loss.
She painted on small canvases or pieces of plywood or paper while trekking through collapsing trenches and swamps en route to remote areas. Her work can be seen as a part of what political theorist Michal Givoni has identified as a 20th-century shift towards mobilizing acts of witnessing as a vocation by showing difficult truths in public.
Among the handful of women who painted the First World War, Hamilton stands out for the magnitude of her work, the length of her stay in the battlefields and her empathic esthetic achievements.
Today, we have witnessed disturbing images of mass graves during the COVID-19 pandemic in the same time that our society is reckoning with what it means to make ethical choices as we confront connections between systemic inequities, violence and historical trauma. How we think about and understand Hamilton’s courageous, determined and perilous engagement of mass death is more important than ever.
In Memorial for the Second Canadian Division in a Mine Crater Near Neuville St. Vaast (circa 1920) Hamilton visualizes the shocking decimation of an entire regiment with an alarmingly deep hole, whose cutaway view gives viewers a startling, open perspective.
Also concerned with survivors, she recorded scenes of reconstruction, as in Cloth Hall, Ypres – Market Day (1920). This showed grieving family members at a distance and depicted signs of hope and new life.
On her expedition, Hamilton overnighted in war-torn Nissen huts erected for military shelter and storage or other makeshift shelters. By 1920, her war studios included a bombed-out attic in Arras, France. She often ground her colours on the battlefield. She lived in extreme poverty, often starving and putting her life in danger.
Art historians Robert Amos and Ash Prakash have begun to document Hamilton’s important pre-war contributions to Canadian impressionism.
Beginning in 1989, historian Angela Davis, with art historian Sarah McKinnon,
about Hamilton.For Remembrance Day this year, Canada Post has dedicated a stamp to Hamilton’s memory, featuring her 1919 painting Trenches on the Somme in which scarlet poppies grow along white chalk walls of the trench. The painting exhibits her trademark style, which often puts the viewer inside a trench.
Hamilton brought home more than 320 battlefield works painted in oil, or drawn in pencil, charcoal or pastel, along with etchings. She donated 227 to the Dominion Archives (today Library and Archives Canada).
In 1922, Hamilton was awarded one of France’s highest honours, the Ordre des Palmes académiques.
Hamilton’s life and legacy leaves us much to reflect on today. As an artist who embraced witnessing as a vocation, she broke barriers and insisted upon artistically rendering what she saw with candour. Her perception and embodied art practice also left a unique record of the physical and moral devastation of war, both in her art and in her own life.
As a woman artist travelling through battlefields, she experienced mobility, articulated a vision of empathy and contributed to a public record of the war. Yet how she engaged with her craft and what she saw took a toll on her health and ultimately curtailed her career as a painter. She suffered from post-traumatic stress and a major mental breakdown and other health problems following her expedition. War painting would mark her for life.
Hamilton summed up her achievement with understatement: “Yes, it was like living in a graveyard … but I felt this was a duty that someone must do, and I thought I would try to do it.”
Irene Gammel, Professor & Director, MLC Research Centre and Gallery, Ryerson University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Democratic Party candidate, Joe Biden, is now projected to have 284 Electoral College votes on Saturday.
This is beyond the 270 threshold needed to clinch the United States presidential seat.
Biden was projected to have surpassed the 270 electoral vote-threshold after the AP called Pennsylvania in his favour.
His running mate, Kamala Harris, has made history as the first woman elected as Vice President of the US
This year, votes took longer to count, due to the high increase of mail-in ballots which many Americans chose to use amidst the COVID-19 pandemic.
US President Donald Trump’s campaign has vowed to challenge the result, particularly in the states of Georgia, Pennsylvania, Arizona and Michigan.
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