The novel Moon of the Crusted Snow by Waubgeshig Rice presents a post-apocalyptic scenario in which a widespread infrastructure collapse disrupts colonial society. Rather than framing this event as universally catastrophic, the narrative positions it as an opportunity for an Anishinaabe community to reassert indigenous sovereignty. This essay examines how the text portrays colonialism’s historical effects on resources, leadership, and cultural identity, before considering the ways in which traditional governance and land-based knowledge enable resilience. The discussion draws on the provided thesis that the blackout functions as a liberating catalyst, allowing the community to reclaim collective practices and demonstrate endurance independent of external systems.
Collective Resource Management versus Individualistic Collapse
Colonial infrastructure failure first manifests in nearby towns, where the absence of power and supply chains quickly produces violence and hoarding. A refugee from one such settlement explains the situation: “The food’s all gone. The power’s out. There’s no gas. There’s been no word from Toronto or anywhere else. People are looting and getting violent. We had to get the fuck out of there” (Rice, 2018, p. 175). The statement underscores a pattern of atomised survival in which cooperation dissolves into competition. By contrast, the Anishinaabe reserve maintains order through shared access to land-based provisions, thereby illustrating the thesis that the crisis liberates rather than destroys.
A second episode reinforces this distinction when the outsider Scott proposes cannibalism. Community members respond with rejection: “Did you steal a body?” followed by the assertion “We care. These are our relatives” (Rice, 2018, p. 205). Scott’s utilitarian logic represents the colonial mindset that treats bodies and resources as commodities. The reserve’s refusal to adopt this stance preserves moral cohesion and demonstrates that resilience stems from relational ethics rather than ruthless pragmatism. Consequently, the novel shows how indigenous sovereignty restores collective stewardship over resources that colonial individualism had undermined.
Restoration of Consensus-Based Governance
The blackout also severs lines of communication with external authorities, exposing the fragility of colonial administrative structures. One character observes: “Terry muttered, resting his face in his hands. ‘We’re in a crisis and everyone’s survival depends on cooperation… It has to be done. Eventually, they’ll get used to it’” (Rice, 2018, p. 95). The remark reveals an implicit critique of imposed hierarchies; survival hinges on mutual aid rather than directives from distant centres of power. In place of these structures, the community revives elder-led consensus, thereby realising the sovereignty identified in the thesis.
Earlier attempts to suppress traditional practices had forced knowledge underground. The text notes: “But people like Aileen, her parents, and a few others had kept the old ways alive in secret. They had held out hope that one day their ways would be able to reemerge and flourish once again” (Rice, 2018, p. 143). The cessation of colonial oversight permits this submerged knowledge to surface openly. Governance therefore shifts from bureaucratic external control to localised, culturally grounded decision-making, confirming that historical assimilation failed to extinguish indigenous political capacity.
Generational Transmission of Ancestral Knowledge
The crisis further compels a deliberate turn toward ancestral skills and language, countering the cultural erosion produced by generations of colonial intervention. An elder remarks: “But we always survived. We’re still here. And we’ll still be here, even if the power and the radios don’t come back on and we never see any white people ever again” (Rice, 2018, p. 150). The statement reframes collapse as continuity rather than rupture, anchoring identity in the land itself rather than in technologies supplied by settler society.
Practical instruction follows: “There had been no electricity in this community when she was a child, and parents sometimes brought the young ones to her to remind them that life was possible without the comforts… Now it was critical they learn how the old ones lived on the land” (Rice, 2018, pp. 148-149). Teaching becomes an act of reclamation, transmitting embodied knowledge that colonialism had marginalised. In doing so, the community enacts the resilience described in the thesis by converting potential vulnerability into cultural renewal across generations.
Conclusion
Moon of the Crusted Snow depicts infrastructure collapse as an event that exposes the limitations of colonial systems while simultaneously enabling indigenous resurgence. Through collective resource use, revived consensus governance, and intergenerational knowledge transfer, the Anishinaabe community asserts sovereignty that predates and outlasts settler frameworks. The novel therefore challenges apocalyptic conventions by presenting resilience not as mere endurance but as the active reclamation of land, leadership, and cultural identity. This portrayal offers a nuanced literary exploration of how indigenous nations may transform external crises into opportunities for self-determination.
References
- Rice, W. (2018) Moon of the Crusted Snow. Toronto: ECW Press.
