Wednesday, June 26, 2013

“Potpourri”


This is truly the oddest trio that I've tried to link together - as the last three books in the field, these are the ones that just didn't quite fit anywhere else.

Henderson, Making the Scene
Stanley, Contesting White Supremacy
Penfold, The Donut

There are honestly few coherent links between these last books; I will be making some fairly dramatically non-sequitous acrobatic leaps to segue between the three.
Stuart Henderson’s Making the Scene: Yorkville and Hip Toronto in the 1960s is a convincing and engaging analysis of 1960s counterculture, using Toronto’s Yorkville “scene” as a jumping-off point to consider broader trends of the 1960s, the construction of a community in nostalgic memory, and most prominently, the role of performativity in shaping identities. Henderson breaks down the idea of a counterculture, positioning it in response to the context of the dominant culture, as part of a hegemonic process (6). His work is an interrogation of the discursive contexts of identity performance, looking at the diverse manifestations of identity in “the scene” (12-13). Henderson outlines how Yorkville came to be constructed as a youth “institution” that was sick or deviant, heightened by ideas that it was a foreign space. Yorkville was carefully imagined and performed by Villagers and those who observed them, and served as a battleground for physical space and its meaning (20). In one of many parallels between Henderson’s work and that of Sean Mills, Yorkville’s youth in the early 1960s positioned themselves as an “embattled minority,” claiming third world status for themselves and thus entrenching Yorkville as a politicized space (22).
Henderson’s research is drawn from a range of sources, particularly newspapers; a central strand of his analysis is considering how the media constructed Yorkville and mobilized social and political forces against it (25). He also worked with oral histories from some of the area’s most prominent activists. He structures his work around four temporal sections, each containing thematic chapters. His first chapter, part of his introductory section, details the creation of Yorkville and hip identities. Henderson argues that hipness entailed “cultural sharing, appropriation, and bastardization,” processes which depended on contact between youth and immigrants (32). In the early 1960s, Yorkville included bohemian coffee houses next to—or above or below—upscale boutiques and galleries, all taking the place of low-rent working-class housing (40-41); the neighbourhood’s culture varied between the day and the night, intermingling bohemian poverty with Euro-chic (42), a combination that produced regular friction (58). The area’s youth worked to escape alienation by seeking authenticity (44), knowingly performing their identities and celebrating this identity performance (54). In addition to the “hippie” youth who dominate memories of the area, working-class “greasers” also posed a concern to other Torontonians (65).
Henderson’s next section examines the period between 1964 and 1966, positioning Yorkville as a disputed territory, with tensions catalyzed by media representations of the area as violent and sexualized (85, 96). The characters in these tensions could be easily distinguished, with fashion as a significant expression of identity; “Villagers” understood their attire to be a costume (110). Fashion was one element of Villager identity and performance that was centered around male expressions; women had a narrower range of fashion choices with which to rebel, and experienced more hazards in sexual experimentation (110, 95). In this emphasis on performativity, Henderson follows Judith Butler’s assertions that everything in culture is constituted through performance (114). Drug use even served as a performance of authenticity for middle-class hippie youth, an expression which provoked significant concern (128).
While many histories of the 1960s highlight links between hippies and the era’s social and political movements, Henderson points out that there was significant divergence. Radical feminists, for example, opposed the performance of “free love” that privileged men and was often unsafe for young women in Yorkville (158-159). Among Villagers and bikers, there was a silence surrounding violence, such that it is hard to differentiate young women’s sexual agency from the violence that they experienced; media portrayals of sexual danger blurred this distinction (197, 203, 206). Radical feminists were a small component of concerned parties who focused on Yorkville; a current through Henderson’s third section is the image of Yorkville as a cancer needing excision (165, 183). This concern became heightened with the LSD-linked suicide of John Stern, a young music student performing hip authenticity through drug use (174).
Henderson’s final section details the decline of Yorkville’s counterculture scene. By the late 1960s, there was a pervasive sense among Torontonians that Village youth were damaged and a disgrace for Canadians (212). Many Villagers were also concerned about the consequences of their performances of identity, while a younger cohort of hippies were socially and emotionally troubled. The media and research such as that by the Addiction Research Foundation portrayed Yorkville as centered around drug use (216, 246), and activists such as June Callwood worked to help the community build social support that reflected its needs (230). The medicalization of Yorkville peaked with a hepatitis “epidemic”—really a hyperbolic media presentation of isolated cases—that increasingly stigmatized the community (249-252); a subsequent government commission in 1968 conflated drugs, hippies, and Yorkville as having a singular meaning, expressing concern that hippies glorified the health impacts of drugs such as speed (263).
Class and ethnic tensions run through Henderson’s work; from the early period of Yorkville’s scene there were tensions between “hippies” and “greasers,” with the more populous greasers seen as a second-rate cultural expression. This produced resentment from the greasers, as the hippies had chosen a lifestyle of poverty, while greasers had systemically curtailed social and economic opportunities (132). This tension evolved through the 1960s, as the hippies became younger, were frequently from outside of Toronto, and were often youth without the social supports of a middle-class family to return to (146). Along with the tensions between Villagers and business owners and city officials, Yorkville became a contested space “in which hegemonic constructions of reality were rendered inconsistent” (272).
Ethnic tensions are the prevailing theme of Timothy Stanley’s Contesting White Supremacy: School Segregation, Anti-Racism, and the Making of Chinese Canadians. Stanley’s disciplinary background in sociology is clear through his emphasis on racialization and anti-racist practice. His monograph is ultimately unsatisfying; the thrust of his ideas would seem self-evident to any reader with a background in anti-racist scholarship and Canadian immigration history. Stanley analyzes the 1922-23 school strike in Victoria, BC, arguing that the strike—a means of resistance orchestrated by Victoria’s Chinese-Canadian community—responded to a masculinist, colonialist system of racialization (18). Racialization meant that racism became part of a “texture of life,” a phrase Stanley borrows from Hannah Arendt; it informed discourses and the material arrangements of the lives of Chinese Canadians (5-6). The main source body for his work comprises Chinese-language newspapers, to show discourses spread by the Chinese, rather than simply about them.
Stanley begins his study with a useful overview of the 1922-23 strike. On the premise that Chinese students slowed down their elementary school classes, school officials in Victoria implemented policies to place students racialized as Chinese in separate classes and schools. The Chinese Canadian Club was very active in organizing resistance to this policy, working with major overseas Chinese organizations, articulating that segregation was an example of simple race prejudice, rather than the means to an academic end (27-29). The CCC emphasized that Chinese Canadians paid taxes, and were thus entitled to equal schooling; they refused to set up a parallel school system that would absolve the school district of this responsibility, instead organizing temporary Chinese-language education (38, 190). They also stressed the need for integration for Chinese-Canadian children to assimilate into the dominant culture (40). While the strike resulted in a partial change in policy so that children who academically kept up could remain with Euro-Canadian students, the 1923 restrictions on immigration from China essentially legislated that racialized Chinese people could never be Canadian (44).
Stanley’s work is divided in two major sections. The first untangles the racisms—emphasis on the plural—experienced by Chinese Canadians; the second focuses on anti-racist practices and organizing by the Chinese-Canadian community and their allies. Stanley situates anti-Chinese racism as part of British Columbia’s colonial project, arguing that it was part of an attempt to establish European privilege and form BC according to white dominance (47). This was intertwined with, but separate from, the racism experienced by First Nations people, and often made indigenous Canadians invisible through assertions that Euro-Canadians were native to British Columbia (48). The policies in this project assumed that “race” was neutral and objective, making racializing assumptions hegemonic (64, 68). Part of these racializing assumptions was the construction of “the Chinese” as a distinct group, flattened of diversity (69); often this became a representation of “the Oriental,” which included Japanese Canadians (95). Segregated schooling was a means of normalizing categories of racialization, making racialization an assumed element of the state (113). At the end of this first section, Stanley introduces an idea of a “Chinese Archipelago,” the result of a constellation of policies that isolated and marginalized Chinese Canadians (116).
In his section on anti-racisms, Stanley positions the very category of “Chinese Canadian” as a means of resistance, showing the dual reality of people with Chinese ancestry and lived experiences in Canada (146). These Chinese Canadians positioned themselves outside the binary of “Chinese” versus “Canadian,” rejecting this dualistic racialization and showing that their lives were shaped in and by British Columbia, not China (170). They formed an inclusive imagined community across the “Chinese Archipelago” to create an alternate discourse on Chinese nationalism and articulate their interests in a diverse community (171). What is unclear from Stanley’s analysis is the extent to which these individuals considered their work to be specifically “anti-racist,” the terminology that Stanley employs; this is unlikely, however, as he acknowledges that “racism” was not in the lexicon of British Columbians during the 1920s (29). These Chinese Canadians positioned their identity not as racialized, but as belonging to a civilization and a shared experience of marginalization (173). The Chinese-language schooling organized by these groups was a form of protest, not just an accommodation for their children; it was an attack on Euro-Canadian state formation, and a means of instilling Chinese nationalism in their community (190). Given the precarious position of the Chinese Canadian community, the Victoria Chinese Free School gave children a safety net through literacy in Chinese languages and rejection of assimilation (191, 207). Stanley devotes a final chapter to non-Chinese support for the school strike, generally from missionaries who saw segregation as un-Christian (210). Stanley largely uses this chapter as an illustration of the importance of allies for anti-racist organizing (224).
Some of Stanley’s final conclusions are unfortunately troubling or incomplete. He argues that racisms can be eliminated by eliminating the binaries that underpin them, and acknowledging diverse lived experiences (224). He may well be right; however, his work does not really show this as being effective, as Chinese-Canadians positioned themselves as distinct from Euro-Canadians despite their efforts to show similarities. Of more concern, he argues that people of European origin have been represented as “Canadian” and thus as “white” (231). While this is true for a significant majority of Euro-Canadians, this slippage is ahistorical and does not consider the challenges faced by immigrant groups through the twentieth century, even if people of those ethnicities are presently racialized as white. He closes with a call to eliminate the “grammars of racism” (234), unfortunately without clarifying what he means by “grammar” in this context.
I would insert a nice segue here, but it would ultimately be as artificial as rainbow donut sprinkles, and as futile as scrubbing melted-on donut sprinkles off the seat of a car on a hot day. Steve Penfold’s The Donut: A Canadian History is an examination of Canadian business and culture through a mundane mass commodity. Penfold uses donut shops as a window into Canadian consumer society, car culture, mass institutions, and symbols of identity (8). He illustrates three trends in post-WWII Canadian historiography: the continuities between prewar and postwar developments; breaking down the periodization of the postwar era; and complicating the economic challenges of the 1970s (12-13). He presents five brief studies, framed by oral histories of donut shop entrepreneurs and customers, to show the cultural, economic, and social implications of the production and consumption of donuts.
Penfold’s first chapter considers the modernization of donut production, a trend that began prior to the war as part of the Second Industrial Revolution (19). Production was standardized and mechanized where possible, creating such peculiar images as the “Fordist” donut (24). Donuts were marketed as a way to reduce maternal labour, as a nutritious alternative to bread, and as a way to conserve resources for the war effort (37-38). In short, donuts expressed the ethos of modern production (48). Starting in the 1960s, as Penfold shows in his next chapter, donuts became part of postwar consumer culture through a “geography of convenience” (52). The postwar period began a symbiotic relationship between donuts and automobiles, with donut shops centered around “the geographic mainstream of postwar automobile commerce” (62). This culture also included a transition from tea to coffee (73), with donuts serving as a means of marketing coffee (76). Donut shops in this period focused on a middle market of consumers, as a practical food for the working-class male (81-83); however, chains adapted to local needs in an aim to reach a broader clientele (88), a trend that would continue for the rest of the century.
In his third chapter, Penfold considers the challenges of franchising, and its role as a retail revolution (98); businesses formed through social networks and immigrant groups (108), with donut shops serving as “a modern version of a cottage industry” (114). Penfold’s fourth chapter is a particularly compelling consideration of the Canadian foodscape, in which he presents a crowded “donutscape” on the Canadian map, with its nucleus in southern Ontario (131). By the mid 1970s, the Canadian foodscape was saturated with donut shops, which worked to serve a wider population by diversifying business; among the projects of the donut industry were integrating the sale of muffins and bagels into donut shops to attract health-minded customers (149). Donut shops also worked to improve their accessibility, through satellite locations, kiosks, and some attempts at donut trucks (153); by the 1990s, this included drive-thru locations (158-159). To appeal to middle-class women and families, many shops became smoke-free and renovated their premises for a bright, clean look (154). This resulted in some expressions of nostalgia, particularly among working-class men, for older donut shops where smoking was allowed and where lunch counters were the centre for personalized service (162).
Penfold’s final chapter considers the dominance of Tim Hortons on the donutscape—the “Hortonization” of donut lore, as he puts it (166), and the integration of donuts into Canadians’ national identity. The folklore of donuts built upon existing ideas of Canada, tangentially tying donuts to other Canadian symbols such as winter and hockey; Canadians incorporated donuts and donut shops into their existing ideas of communities (188). The hegemony of donuts was such that cities and towns vied to be Canada’s “donut capital,” citing their numbers of donut shops per capita as a point of pride (170). Donuts came to indicate honest, hard-working people (171), a representation that donut shops capitalized upon; where Canadians saw a cultural symbol, businesses saw an opportunity to further saturate a market, particularly in Ontario (180).
I can only conclude this week with Penfold’s own trademark phrase, “the situation was very complex.”

This had to happen.

“War and Memory”


The penultimate reading response for my Canada field!

Vance, Death So Noble
Taylor, The Civil War of 1812

Jonathan Vance’s Death So Noble: Memory, Meaning, and the First World War details the construction of a mythic version of the First World War, questioning why this war became so defining in Canadian history despite being divisive and destructive (11). Vance argues that a mythic version of the war formed through the cultural expressions of average Canadians, filling their explanatory and consolatory needs; it was not the creation of elite citizens or a means to entrench a social order (7, 10). In his cleanly-written and amply-illustrated chapters, Vance outlines several mythic constructions of the war, showing how they came together in cultural expressions and public observances. First, he considers the popular sense that the war was “just” because Canada had entered it to preserve peace; this idea made Canadian participation a source of pride (13). Canadian soldiers thus had fought to protect humanity and civilization, and most Canadians saw soldiers as the ultimate pacifists (29, 33). He then analyzes the religious connections to the war. Metaphors linking soldiers to Christ were prominent in visual and literary depictions of the war, portraying it as a defense of Christian principles (36-37). Those who had lost loved ones in the war could rest assured that fallen soldiers had willingly sacrificed their lives for a noble cause; memorials thus focused on expressions of gratitude, rather than grief (51).
Turning to the secular framework for the memorialization of the war, Vance explains that it had similar emotional links to sacrifice, and worked to portray war in a positive, nostalgic sense (73, 75, 77). Such “High Diction” representations, focusing on light, hoe, vitality, and colour, became so entrenched in popular culture such that a critique of this discourse was hardly possible (93-94). This discourse also drew links between the First World War and earlier battles, situating the war within the history of the Victorian British Empire (94).
Vance outlines how the status ascribed to soldiers and veterans as true patriots shamed men who did not serve, both during and after the war (112-114). The “cult of the service roll” focused on service at the front, often undervaluing other contributions to the war effort through factory or farming work (122). This built long-term solidarity and a sense of shared identity among veterans, casting them as distinctive from men who did not serve (135). Subsequently, extending the discussion of soldiers as a representation of Christ, Vance considers how soldiers became a personification or embodiment of Canada (136). Images of soldiers emphasized them products of their landscape (161), coming from traditional, rural backgrounds, in contrast to the mechanization of the war, and stressed their boyishness as symbolic of Canada’s innocence, enthusiasm, and future potential (142, 157-158). According to Vance, this ignored the fact that a minority of soldiers were actually born and raised in Canada, and that most were urban, rather than men of the land (161). Soldiers’ mothers were also important in representations of wartime sacrifice, symbolic of the link between Canada and Britain, and showing continuity between the nation’s past, present, and future (147-150).
Vance next explores how Canadians memorialized the mythic history that they had created, turning their version into a legitimized history supported by literature and academic work. One shortcoming in this section of Vance’s work is that he does not sufficiently take into account which particular Canadians were involved in the promotion of collective memory; certain voices have been left out of mythicized histories of the First World War, and Vance does not explore this, more or less taking for granted that this history was formed primarily by white men. In the absence of an “official” history of the First World War, local communities created unofficial histories, which were largely extensions of the “cult of the service roll” and aimed to be a tribute to the war, rather than an analysis of it (173). One particular concern for many Canadians was that Americans could filter and alter their war story, undermining the role of Canadians in battle victories (178-179). This observation allows intriguing parallels with Taylor’s analysis of the War of 1812 and how it has been presented in Canadian and American histories.
“In Flanders Fields” has long been central to Canadian memorials of the First World War, and thus it anchors Vance’s penultimate chapter, fittingly titled “If Ye Break Faith.” It has become part of Canadian vernacular, urging Canadians to safeguard their history and protect the principles for which they had waged war (199, 201). Expanding from the poem itself, Vance considers efforts to create national and community memorials to the war, arguing that there was a general consensus that memorials were necessary as an expression of fidelity from the living to the fallen (209), a tangible representation of a community’s values (210), and a place for teaching future generations (211). Similarly, Remembrance Day became “a public statement of the myth of Canada’s war” (216).
Vance’s final chapter considers the role of the war as a unifying force, stronger in Canadian memory than Confederation (227). As such, portrayals of the war became important to school curricula, for memorialization and instilling a sense of civic duty (236, 241). Among the challenges in creating this sort of mythic representation are the tensions that the war created between groups of Canadians; to highlight unity, French Canadians had to emphasize their sacrifices with images of the habitant doing his duty (252). This was a means of reconciliation through shared sacrifices in war (254). Vance concludes his work by arguing that this myth was overly optimistic, as it was not as meaningful for immigrants, First Nations, and French Canadians (259) and relied on an impossible extent of assimilation (260). While it was not a product of elite manipulation, the mythicized version of the war was “fashioned along Anglo-Canadian middle-class ideals of social unity” and thus remained fairly exclusive (261). Ultimately, the memory of the war was part of a widespread search for meaning (267).
Alan Taylor’s The Civil War of 1812 breaks down many of the ideas that a Canadian reader would have about the War of 1812. Arguably his most controversial contention is that the war was a civil war, as the British and Americans were not distinct peoples (8). Vance makes this argument by chronologically tracing the war in great detail, illustrating the rivalry of political systems and ideologies (12). He begins by examining the role of Loyalist and “Late Loyalist” settlers in Upper Canada and setting the stage for a division of American republicanism and British mixed constitution forms of governance (43). With a broad definition of Loyalists acceptable as immigrants to Upper Canada, these settlers were not particularly committed to the British Empire (72). While unlikely to rebel, they were also difficult to mobilize in the event of a war. These Upper Canadians became caught between the Americans and the British, and were undecided as to the extent that they should resist when the Americans invaded (141-144), although they became more inclined to see the Americans as invaders as the war progressed (267). Upper Canada, Taylor argues, was not all that distinct from the United States in terms of ethnicity, religion, or culture; the key division was political (71).
Starting in his fourth chapter, Taylor considers the direct causes of the War of 1812. One critical issue was impressment of American sailors by the British navy, which illustrated conflicting visions of citizens and subjects. The British felt that being a royal subject was a lifelong status, and considered American sailors to be deserters, rather than emigrants (105). This positioned the United States as a British colony, undermining the impact of the American Revolution (123), a problematic premise for Republicans who felt themselves to be politically distinct from the British Empire. Taylor states in his fifth chapter that historians have debated at length the causes of the War of 1812, namely whether the conquest of Canada was the goal of the war, or the means to another end (133-134). He outlines his goal of examining the interactions of maritime and frontier issues, the “synergy of multiple grievances” that produced the war (134-135). This contention about the debate is problematic—was it really that simple, with other historians on a “quest for the one true cause” of the war? This is one aspect of Taylor’s work that falls short.
Taylor’s work includes a patchy analysis of the role of First Nations peoples as a catalyst for the war. The position of First Nations—referred to unquestioningly as “Indians” throughout Taylor’s work—was a point of contention for the British, who saw First Nations as autonomous peoples, and Americans, who saw them as dependents of a sovereign state (126). First Nations participation is central to Taylor’s eighth chapter, sensationally entitled “Scalps,” which discusses how the British exploited American fears of “Indian warriors,” making First Nations soldiers particularly valuable to the British army (150, 203). Racial tensions are a repeated theme in this monograph; the Americans were routinely concerned about the treatment of white American soldiers and sailors at the hands of the British, arguing that the British were violating the bodies of white men as though they were black slaves (137).
Taylor’s analysis emphasizes the importance of American partisan politics in the War of 1812, noting that the Americans were specifically Republicans, with Federalists often obstructing the war effort (180). Within the United States, voters preferred Republican belligerence to Federalist peace promises, supporting the Republicans in a New York state election during the war (260). Following the war, Republicans attempted to portray American participation in the war as self-defense, and claimed victory on the basis of their national survival (420). This was appealing to American voters; the “myth of a glorious war confirmed by an honourable peace” helped Republicans politically (421).
The War of 1812, whether or not we accept Taylor’s contention that it was a civil war, certainly shared logistical challenges with civil wars more generally. In particular, there was no obvious way of distinguishing between one’s own troops and the enemy, due to common use of English (332). This meant that desertion and spying was a concern for both armies (333,340), and both sides aimed to “make and unmake citizens and subjects” through the recruitment and treatment of prisoners of war (379).
The War of 1812 was fought on a significantly populated borderland area, making civilians an important concern for both forces. Many areas experienced tensions between soldiers and civilians, particularly when the Republican army fought in regions with a predominantly Federalist civilian population (337). Many civilians saw any allegiance as “contractual and conditional,” an ambivalence that both sides interpreted as treachery (304-305). Many civilians profited by smuggling goods across a largely open border: in the St. Lawrence area, smuggled goods sustained British troops while diverting supplies from the American army; for rural people, nationalism was secondary to their profit and survival (291-292).
How do we define a “civil” war? Geopolitics and international diplomacy? Identity? Partisan politics? Heritage? Wouldn’t a war over the identities and definitions of citizens and subjects specifically not be a civil war? Taylor asserts that the War of 1812 was a civil war, but it could more accurately be described as a borderlands war, as it concerned attempts to differentiate soldiers and civilians across a contested border. Taylor’s chronological organization means that his themes are often quite scattered, diluting his argument in a sea of battle details. A focus on the war as a conflict over the border could fit well with Taylor’s final chapter, which outlines how the War of 1812 strengthened the border and the identities on either side of it, and argues that the war had “decisively divided the continent between the republic and the empire” (456).
There is an intriguing parallel in the works of Vance and Taylor showing the role of mythic versions of war for national identity. Taylor’s penultimate chapter on the peace process and the differing interpretations of the outcome of the War of 1812 corroborates Vance’s arguments about the memorialization of war, albeit more briefly. Taylor argues that the War of 1812 superficially looks like a draw, as there was no change in the international boundary or in British policies (437). A closer examination, however, shows “an ultimate American victory that secured continental predominance” (437), a contention at sharp odds with Canadian public memory of the war. Republicans saw the British acceptance of American control over their own border and navy as a belated American victory, despite British successes in battle (435).
Taylor concludes his work by stating that histories of the War of 1812 impose nationalisms on the past (458). This is clear when examining the official Canadian War of 1812commemorative site, which proclaims the war as “The Fight for Canada” and “a seminal event in the making of our great country.” Its banner is a staged photograph depicting four major figures who are central to the Canadian war effort. Notably, the three individuals of Euro-Canadian ancestry are described as “hero” or “heroine,” while the mouse-over caption for Tecumseh simply describes him as “Shawnee War Chief.” These four individuals are of short-term importance in Taylor’s analysis; he makes only brief mention of Laura Secord. Where Taylor portrays ambiguity or American triumph in a civil war, Canada’s official commemoration describes an unquestioned Canadian victory: the Prime Minister’s Message states that “The War helped establish our path toward becoming an independent and free country, united under the Crown with a respect for linguistic and ethnic diversity. The heroic efforts of Canadians then helped define who we are today, what side of the border we live on, and which flag we salute.” Whereas Taylor portrays ambivalent civilians and uncommitted soldiers and militia volunteers, the Canadian government of 2012 remembers cooperation between soldiers and volunteers. The disjuncture is clear.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Labour, Demography, Economy, and the like


This one is reasonably coherent, I hope. Next week will be particularly interesting: I'm down to the last few books for this particular field, so my paper will somehow draw together the War of 1812, the memorialization of the First World War, Chinese-Canadian education, counterculture, and donuts. 

I had best get to bed before the cat wakes up.

Parr, The Gender of Breadwinners
Baillargeon, Making Do
Olson and Thornton, Peopling the North American City

This week’s three studies present approaches to demographic and economic history that are innovative, or were at the time of original publication. Joy Parr’s study considers the gendered dimensions of labour in two Ontario towns in the early twentieth century; Denyse Baillageon analyzes Montreal women’s labour inside and outside the home during the Great Depression; and Sherry Olson and Patricia Thornton offer a comprehensive analysis of Montreal’s demographic transition in the mid to late nineteenth century. All three studies show the complex interactions of culture, demography, and economics, and illustrate how these factors are linked to issues of class, religion, language, and gender.
In The Gender of Breadwinners, Parr analyzes the social and economic changes that occurred alongside industrialization through two parallel local histories. Paris, Ontario, was dominated by a knitting mill with a largely female workforce. Hanover, Ontario, had a more typically male workforce in its furniture industry. Using perspectives from feminist and poststructuralist theory, Parr sets out to go beyond Marxian analyses and show the dual interactions of patriarchy and capitalism (7). While she offers only limited discussion of these theories through the body of her analysis, Parr handily demonstrates that pairings such as class/gender and public/private are “multiple and mutable,” showing a need to question such categories and consider how they construct meaning (9); this sort of deconstruction was uncommon among feminist historians in 1990, when her work was released. Parr’s work consists of two parts, analyzing Paris, then Hanover. Offering up the more atypical discussion of the “women’s town” first, followed by the more traditional workforce in Hanover, is an unusual decision; the exceptionality of Paris meant that many of Parr’s most intriguing points become clear in the first half of her work. Integrating the two analyses, or building a narrative by discussing Hanover first, may add to the appeal of her work.
In each section, Parr considers labour recruitment; the role of gender in the management strategies in each town; the sexual division of labour; the relationships between wage work, domestic labour, and family and community values; and the impact of labour organization and disputes. Of interest in each town is the largely migrant workforce recruited by mills and factories that held a near monopoly on the industry in each town: in Paris, Penman’s hosiery mill sought skilled women from the East Midlands, and in Hanover, Knechtel’s furniture plant recruited immigrants of German origin who had a long-standing tradition of woodwork and craftsmanship. The demographics of each town built divergent gendered relationships to wage work. While Hanover saw a need to protect women by providing safe and respectable employment until marriage (185), Paris had unmarried women who owned their own homes; there, independence and factory work could be respectable for women (82), and men were often unemployed. Parr also shows the processes by which work became gendered in each industry, and the interactions of gender with class in creating such distinctions. Knitting is a particularly intriguing example, where unions worked to define mechanized work as male, but companies sought to diversify tasks to build a more stable workforce (70-73).
Parr’s work was unusual for 1990 in its consideration of masculinity, arguing masculinity to be diverse rather than unified, and subject to class divisions (240). In Hanover, for example, she considers how masculinity shifted from a basis in the physicality of manual work to a focus on men’s roles as breadwinners (164). Unfortunately, by not significantly integrating her analyses of Paris and Hanover, Parr does not really question how masculinity played out in Paris, where women had authority as breadwinners. This study is also before its time in its emphasis on intersectionality; while Parr does not use this particular term, it is a clear goal of her call to integrate analyses of gender and class.
Denyse Baillargeon’s Making Do: Women, Family, and Home in Montreal During the Great Depression presents research that she undertook in the late 1980s, interviewing French-Canadian women who started families in Montreal during the Great Depression. While her monograph now seems quite routine, it was much less so when she researched and published it. Baillargeon analyzes the survival of working-class families during the Great Depression by considering women’s work, paid or at home, and how this contributed to family economies. Overall, she shows that women had an indispensable role in overcoming and managing their family’s poverty (4). Montreal’s working-class women had become accustomed to poverty and developed strategies for survival during their childhoods and adolescences; this helped to prepare them for the duration of economic upheaval that they experienced during the Depression (45, 7). Baillargeon gives some insight as to the methodology behind her oral history approach in her first appendix. This lists the questions that were asked of each respondent. It becomes clear that much of the information sought was quantitative. Several questions inquire about descriptions of women’s experiences, but women’s feelings or conclusions about their own experiences seem to be an afterthought.
Motherhood, and the domestic labour that surrounded it, was central to the lives of these women. The Quebec context of these women’s experiences is particularly salient when examining their recollections of motherhood and sexuality; while women of British origin had some grasp of their anatomy and had some extent of knowledge of contraception, Baillargeon indicates that Montreal’s working-class women wanted more control over their reproduction but were seriously ignorant of their sexuality (69). These women relied on men for information about sexuality and reproduction, and their awareness of and access to contraception was limited by the Church (73). Many women feared pregnancy, despite their fondness for their children (78).
While the women Baillargeon interviewed worked, sometimes outside the home, a division of labour was entrenched in their community. Baillargeon is quick to point out, however, that women’s work did not differentiate between the public and private spheres, as women worked for pay even within their homes, and their roles as housewives were increasingly important in the Depression’s tight economy (111). The women’s work made working-class families sites of production rather than consumption, as limited incomes necessitated that most goods be homemade (114). Baillargeon concludes by noting that her oral narratives confirm the hypotheses of other researchers (167), and reiterates that women’s paid and domestic labour, and management of household finances, was critical to economic mobility for working-class families (168).  
Sherry Olson and Patricia Thornton’s work is the most recent, and the most substantial, of this week’s studies. This team of geographers present the results of thirty years of quantitative and qualitative demographic research on Montreal. Their methodology, at first glance, appears simple: they tracked the births, marriages, deaths, and movements of individuals with twelve surnames over a period of sixty years. Their analysis of the interaction between demography and culture makes this study far more complex, however, as they exhaustively considered everything from how to select easily-spelled surnames to the potential impact of contagion and genetics within particular families (38, 348). Their use of surnames enabled them to construct a “miniaturized city” and consider demographic differences between three dominant cultural groups – the sample was divided into three equal parts of Irish Catholics, French-Canadian Catholics, and English-Canadian Protestants. Surprisingly, they learned that natural increase was highest in Protestant rather than Catholic families (61).
This study showcases a potential methodology for demographic history, as well as highlighting the significance of movement and migration for culture and demography. Montreal, they argue, served as a “centre de triage,” attracting, sorting, and distributing new immigrants (54), and moving was central to family narratives and the formation of social status (356-360). The methodology of their study is comprehensive, probing nearly every conceivable written source and image for information about these twelve extended families to analyze their migrations, marriages, housing, and social and kinship networks. However, Olson and Thornton are also self-conscious about the limitations of their work, considering the drawbacks of a patronymic organization (39) and criticizing their own blurring of diversity, particularly among Protestants (347). Ultimately, they present a convincing argument for the integration of the social sciences to better understand the cultural context of demographic regimes and changes, and the multidimensional intersections of identity (360, 363).

This heron told me to leave the park and go home; it was getting late.

Religion and Identity



This is the one from last week; I knew I would forget to post it! I'm working on another one this evening (ok, who am I kidding? It's the middle of the night - I'm working on another one tonight, then!). So I'll try my best to post that by morning, when I email it to my professor. I'm on the home stretch of my Canada comps field, and should be finished by the end of the month. 

Loewen, Hidden Worlds
Little, Borderland Religion
Marks, Revivals and Roller Rinks

These three monographs are quite cohesively linked, all considering the development or expression of religious identities. Roydon Loewen examines how late nineteenth century Mennonite communities “regrafted” their identities from the Old World to the New; Jack Little analyzes the development of Protestant denominational affiliations in the Eastern Townships during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries; Lynne Marks probes the intersection between religion and leisure to understand the class and gender dimensions of Protestant identity and participation.
Loewen questions existing historiography that describes Mennonite culture as static through their migration from Europe to North America, arguing instead that migration involved the reformation of social boundaries and associations that strengthened “New World” Mennonite communities and identities. He examines Mennonite communities in Canada and the United States, considering provincial and cross-border manifestations of identity. His focus is on the everyday lives of Mennonite people, using many previously unavailable primary sources and approaching already-known sources more critically, such as by considering diary-writing as a cultural act to legitimize social ideas (8). Loewen describes his monograph’s structure as a “kaleidoscopic” narrative, ranging from microanalyses to more general discussions (6). The range of scales employed in his analysis make his work both convincing and concise.
Loewen begins with a study of the diaries of Mennonite migrants in Europe and North America, arguing that the emotional content of these diaries increased during migration, particularly for women (21). Diaries, for Loewen, showed how people perceived their identities and communities, and constructed systems of meaning (30-31). His subsequent chapter considers the impact of the transplantation of bilateral partible inheritance, a Mennonite practice that was key to the economic and social formation of communities (34). Despite the absence of a legal infrastructure for this inheritance system (41), which enabled matrilocality but increased land fragmentation (38; 46), Mennonites succeeded in replicating it in North America (41). This showed their emphasis on community as a more important social unit than the nuclear family (49). Loewen continues his concern with gender in his third chapter, which focuses on women’s lives. Despite the common portrayal of Mennonite women as “hidden,” Loewen shows that their voices are quite apparent in public and private letters (52). Mennonite women had a strong sense of belonging, authority in their communities, and were socially confident (60-62).
In his fourth chapter, Loewen enters a case study of two Mennonite men, Mr. Plett and Mr. Bergey. He uses the experiences of these men to show the convergence of culture between Manitoba and Ontario Mennonite communities, despite regional differences in industrialization, urbanization, and cultural pluralism (86). Both men had similar social aims and orientation to family, focusing on land accumulation and the formation of kinship networks (71-72, 85). Based on these similarities, Loewen justifies his decision to consider the Mennonites as a singular group across Canada, arguing that regional differences are important, but not divisive (87). To what degree could this hold true for other immigrant groups? Loewen’s subsequent chapter is also comparative, considering the Mennonites in relation to other rural communities. He argues that Mennonites experienced common trends for agricultural frontier communities; the contest between communitarian values and individualism was not a unique concern for this culture (89). As such, Loewen’s study is, to some extent, an analysis of immigration more generally, rather than specifically Mennonites.
Little analyzes the formation of religious identity among English-speaking communities in the Eastern Townships, considering the impact of events such as the War of 1812 and the Rebellions of 1837-1838, and the role of the border in the development of Protestant denominations. This monograph is not focused on identity, per se; individual experiences are less of a focus in Little’s work than the formation of infrastructure and the activities of community leaders. Little considers the Eastern Townships as a middle ground, where republican, non-conformist American settler culture met conservative, religious institutions of British colonial authority. He begins with an overview of Protestant identity and its geographical and sociological context. Little stresses that cultural identity in the Eastern Townships was a product of its location on an American settlement frontier within a British colony, to form “a synthesis of radical American and conservative British values” (6). Little’s second introductory chapter considers the Pioneer Era, up to 1815, characterized by slow population growth and institutional development (25). During this period, Methodists and Anglicans dominated the region, mainly due to intensive missionary efforts (32-33). Following the War of 1812, American missionary efforts in the Eastern Townships decreased as they turned their attention to New England; this left a religious vacuum available for the conservative British-based denominations (50-51).
The body of Little’s work is divided into three sections, each with two or three chapters. In these sections, he considers each denomination individually, a structure which allows for rich detail but feels somewhat fragmented to the reader. He first discusses postwar American initiatives, including the Congregationalists and Baptists. This consideration of particular communities shows the heterogeneity of the Eastern Townships; for example, the Rebellions were particularly damaging for Congregationalism in Stanstead, which was close to the American border, compared to in other locales (64). Also in this section is Little’s particularly fascinating section on the Millerites, an apocalyptic millenarianist sect that was briefly active in the Eastern Townships during the 1840s. Little considers how this sect was a response to political, economic, and environmental factors, intensifying an already-existing religious revival (129, 137). This highlights the interconnectedness of religion with other community events and characteristics, a point that is also clear in Lynne Marks’ work. Little’s next two sections analyze the post-1812 British religious responses, considering the Wesleyan Methodists and the Anglicans in turn. In these chapters, Little stresses the tensions between institutionalism and localism; for example, both Methodists and Anglicans preferred that local communities would not have control over their own chapels, creating denominationally exclusive worship facilities (175, 238). He also highlights the importance of the borderland location; the Wesleyans, Little argues, were less successful due to their borderland location, caught between American radical revivalism and British conservativism (223).
Little’s approach to studying identity is quite different from that of Loewen, with a more institutional rather than personal focus and selection of sources. Little’s arguments and evidence also illustrate the complexity of studying identity. Religious affiliation, he argues, was not necessarily indicative of identity, a point that is particularly clear in his study of Anglicanism. As baptism was the only means of obtaining a birth certificate, it had legal as well as religious meaning; baptism in an Anglican church thus was not closely linked to actual religious faith (266). One disadvantage of Little’s choice of primary sources is that the discourses relating to identity are not particularly apparent in this work; his analysis clearly shows the formation of denominational infrastructure, but not the variations in individual self-image and the links between religious identity and other social roles.
One potential discussion to come out of these readings is the distinction between culture and religion. Lynne Marks in her analysis of Protestant culture as expressed in religion and leisure shows culture and religion to be closely intertwined. Her monograph emphasizes the need to integrate facets of social history, which she accomplishes by focusing on both religion and leisure, and considering the family as a unit of analysis to show the impact of marital status, gender, and age (10). Marks bases her analysis around three small Ontario towns: Thorold, Campbellford, and Ingersoll. She also considers the activities of the Knights of Labor and the Salvation Army across the province. By inserting leisure into her study of religion, Marks shows that Protestant culture was not hegemonic, as it was wider than its theological underpinnings; Protestantism was meaningful in many spheres (208).
Marks presents four chapters that focus on her small-town case studies. The first of these considers church involvement, comparing church membership roles and census documents. Marks highlights how church attendance was not a strictly religious matter; small-town residents also opted to attend church to assert their respectability and for a social outlet (23). Notably, the decision of church attendance varied within individual families. The limited involvement of unmarried men, compared to married men and both single and married women, shows the complex nature of Christian masculinity and its ideals of domesticity (33, 35). As Little also noted, baptism was common even in families with little other religious involvement, particularly in the working class (42). Marks shows how church membership had intersecting, overlapping, and contradictory meanings, signifying a blurring of social divisions rather than simply religious faith (49-50).
In her subsequent chapters, Marks considers church activities. Women’s initiatives, such as church-building initiatives and “strawberry socials,” she argues, “reveal a weaving together of more secular class and gender interests and anxieties” (52). Concerns with defining roughness and respectability show these categories to be more complex than moralistic stereotypes (82), shaped by social location and the use of leisure time. Marks notes that ideas of respectability were linked to class and behaviour, rather than religion (105). In her analysis of male leisure, Marks highlights the importance of masculinity in shaping men’s leisure and associational activities (108). Male leisure, often within fraternal orders, also complicated notions of roughness and respectability, blending ideals of breadwinning and rough behaviour (116). Marks also mentions recreational skating, part of the inspiration for the title of her work, as a rare example of respectable leisure that was open to both men and women. Modest and uncompetitive, ice- and roller-skating acted as a site for heterosexual courtship (129).
In her next two chapters, Marks turns away from her three-community case study. The Knights of Labor and the Salvation Army, according to Marks, were shaped largely by class; these were organizations in which working-class identity was more visible (140-141). Both the Knights and the Army had complicated relationships with respectability, given their working-class membership, and illustrate that there was no hegemonic Christianity. According to Marks, “religion not only buttressed the social order but also challenged it” (168). This is clear in her chapter on women’s roles within the Salvation Army, where working-class women could challenge dominant gender roles with some extent of religious legitimacy due to their undertaking of a public position stressing morality (170-173).
Marks’ final main chapter analyzes the Thorold Revival in 1893, an event with many parallels to the Millerism in Little’s work. Marks highlights how the religious conversions in Thorold coincided with an economic downturn, and were thus a response to social anxieties (195); evangelicalism thus resonated particularly with married men (198). In Thorold in 1893, Christianity became a “unifying force” that muted but did not eliminate class divergences (206); the revival made Christianity more central to identities.

These deer thought I should probably be reading faster; however, the CHA kept me so busy that I didn't have time to even open a book!

Monday, June 10, 2013

The Environment, Tourism, and Other Such Things

Two reading responses, written ages ago but forgot to post. Please pardon the very unconventional footnote formatting! And expect another reading response within 24 hours. Nag me if it fails to appear.

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Wall, The Nurture of Nature
Loo, States of Nature
Sandlos, Hunters at the Margin
Nelles, The Politics of Development
Evenden, Fish Versus Power

The five monographs that I read this week fall under a broad theme of environmental history, showing tensions of modern and anti-modern actions and ideologies and their social, economic, cultural, and political interactions. Sharon Wall’s The Nurture of Nature is a study of the articulation and search for meaning in modernity through the anti-modern leisure pursuit of children’s summer camps in Ontario. Echoing previous work on American summer camps—notably that of Leslie Paris—Wall argues that Ontario’s summer camps had an ambivalent relationship to modernity, with anti-modern nostalgia implicated in a modern regulatory project of child development. Wall’s monograph considers in particular detail the gendered and class implications of children’s camps, as well as their positioning in a colonial society and relationship to the natural environment. Wall begins by situating children’s camps as an urban response to the spatial transformations involved in modernity. Proponents of camps valued them as anti-modern pursuits, highlighting isolation from urban demands, pollution, and culture. This isolation also made camps a laboratory for studying child development, as Wall explains further in a later chapter. The very presence of camps, of course, undermined their claims to rejecting modernity; all summer camps influenced their landscapes, to varying degrees, making the land less natural.
Wall’s next point of analysis is the class dimension of children’s camps, in chapters considering elite private camps, then charitable “fresh air” camps. At private camps, Wall argues, children moved in an extension of their urban social spheres; camps often allied themselves with elite clubs and boarding schools, reflecting the class divisions in broader society and isolating children from non-privileged children and youth. These camps reflected the class backgrounds of the registered children through high fees, high-quality food and accommodation—despite an image of “roughing it” in the wilderness—and programming such as music lessons and golf that would enable children to succeed as leaders in an elite culture. This stands in stark contrast to the fresh air camps that Wall analyzes in her following chapter, which is largely a case study of the Bolton camp, located a short distance from Toronto. Unlike more northern camps which highlighted summer-long recreation in “pristine” wilderness environments, fresh air camps were premised on an assumption that working-class children needed merely fresh air and brief respite from an urban environment to improve their health. Programming at such camps was simple and regimented, reflecting their low operating costs and a goal of teaching children and youth basic employment skills and good habits, such as hard work, through arts and crafts.
Economically in between the private and fresh air camps, “agency” summer camps, run by programs such as Scouts and the YMCA, served middle-class children. Unfortunately, Wall’s monograph lacks a chapter dedicated to the workings and class formations in this type of summer camp. Wall ultimately highlights children’s camps as highly class stratified, furthering the values of upper- and middle-class society through programming for children of all income groups. This study could, however, offer a deeper analysis of other divisions among summer camps. While she analyzes some private Jewish summer camps, her consideration of this fairly large portion of the post-war camp sector is fairly limited. Peculiarly, Wall offers no consideration of therapeutic camps for children with special needs, such as the Easter Seal Society camps that opened in the late 1940s. As such, religion and disability are limited as categories of analysis in her work.
Wall does offer a substantial analysis of the therapeutic potential of private and fresh air camps, analyzing these as part of a modern experiment in child psychology, mental hygiene, and progressive education. For psychologists, camps offered a valuable controlled environment to study children. They also attempted to implement some therapeutic programming, particularly working to combat children’s shyness through fostering independence and encouraging play. At fresh air camps, social workers had an opportunity to interact with and observe children over an intensive period, to determine their social, emotional, and medical needs; this observation did not, however, generally result in long-term interventions for the children, as fresh air camp sessions were typically short. Following the Second World War, some camps served as an informal experiment for the progressive education movement, implementing less regimented and more holistic programming; notably, programming at fresh air camps continued to emphasize regimentation and adult control over children.
Wall explains how, in addition to class, residential camps reflected and reinforced twentieth-century ideas about gender and sexuality. The vast majority of camps were single-sex, with ideals of masculinity and femininity underpinning camp programming. For boys, this was often in response to fears of “modern” crises in masculinity. These camps ultimately emphasized modern rather than anti-modern gender relations, as places for the development of youth culture whether in co-educational or single-sex environments. One peculiar element of Wall’s chapter on gender and sexuality is her assertion that all-male spaces in boys camps distanced boys from “feminine” civilization; the gendering of civilization as feminine in this context contrasts to the more typical binary assignment of civilization as a male quality, an anomaly that Wall does not address.
Wall’s penultimate chapter analyzes the appropriation of “Indian” cultures at camps for children of various class backgrounds, a supposedly educational element of programming that was intended to highlight traditional, anti-modern values and foster connections to the natural world. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the “Indian” cultures portrayed in this camp programming were sometimes fabricated, building campers’ Canadian identities through a spiritual connection to the land based on legends that were crafted by camp directors. Wall notes that, in most cases, such programming did not consider the marginalized position of Aboriginal peoples in Canada at the time, and were silent as to their own location on Aboriginal land.
Wall accomplished her research through an analysis of various camp ephemera, including brochures, scrapbooks, and administrative records. She supplemented this with oral histories, which are concerningly poorly balanced; the majority of these oral histories come from transcripts in the Ontario Camping Association archives, and feature the voices of campers and staff at private camps. The brief quotations that Wall provides from these interviews portray nostalgic reminiscences of camp experiences; it is unlikely that such experiences were necessarily typical or representative of Ontario summer camps, as they are the memories of long-term campers, rather than those who did not return annually and who may have been less positive about their camping experiences.
The remaining four monographs are more focused on the environment, conservation, and natural resources. Of these, Tina Loo’s work stands out as a national rather than regional study. Loo’s intentionally broad analysis uses wildlife conservation as a way to study “shifting and conflicting attitudes toward the natural world” in the twentieth century. Loo articulates three main arguments: that change over time in wildlife conservation became structured and scientific rather than fragmented and local in the transition from the nineteenth to the twentieth century; that private actors, despite often being blamed for environmental decline, were actually key proponents of environmentalism; and that conservation was strongly sentimental, with human values and constructions being as important as science. Oddly, these arguments are somewhat different from the three arguments identified by Graeme Wynn in his foreword to Loo’s work; Wynn’s argues that Loo argues that state intervention to conserve wildlife was effective, marginalizing local views of the environment, and highlights the role of environmentalism in the colonization of rural Canada. While Wynn’s impressions are not necessarily incorrect—Loo does argue these points, albeit somewhat secondarily—it is concerning that his summary does not reflect the points that Loo so explicitly states.
Loo describes the organization of her work as following both a chronological and thematic structure; my impression is that it is more thematic than it is chronological. She begins by considering the legal regime for wildlife regulation, untangling its ideological influences of Progressivism and anti-modernism. According to Loo, the Progressivist aim, as shown through bureaucracies, was the sustainable exploitation through the “scientific management” of resources. Recreational pursuits showed anti-modernist goals, with encounters with wildlife serving as opportunities for natural healing and a return to “primitivity.” Loo’s second chapter considers initiatives to prevent the privatization of wildlife as a resource, which disguised their true aim of restricting access to only privileged groups among the “public.” This resulted in a pattern of legislation and resistance, with Aboriginal peoples arguing against Euro-Canadian assumptions that local peoples did not know how to conserve resources, and protesting the devaluation of Indigenous environmental knowledge. In these first two chapters, Loo lays out the ideological framework for the environmental movement—and, to an extent, the theoretical foundations of her own work—then emphasizes the tremendous social and economic implications of the environmental policies she analyzes.
Loo’s subsequent chapters offer case studies of Jack Miner, an influential figure in interwar conservation work, then the Hudson’s Bay Company. Miner, a private individual who held sway over public opinion, made emotional and religious appeals in his conservation work with geese, showing the importance of sentiment for environmental discussions. The Hudson’s Bay Company engaged in conservation work before the involvement of the government, seeing conservation as a social issue and thus involving local—often Aboriginal—people. To the Hudson’s Bay Company, wildlife was an economic resource, necessitating sustainable policies to achieve both rehabilitation and resource exploitation. Through these case studies, Loo shows the diversity of views and approaches to wildlife conservation that informed twentieth-century public opinion and policy.
Loo then turns to government wildlife conservation in postwar Canada, considering the actions of the Canadian Wildlife Service in forming national parks and manipulating herds of wild grazing animals; her consideration of wildlife as part of local settler agriculture and as a means of controlling Aboriginal peoples is echoed and significantly expanded upon by Sandlos. In her next chapter, Loo complicates her own analysis of grazing animals by considering the treatment of predators, with practices influenced by a variety of scientific, emotional, and economic motives. Loo argues that the concern about predators reflected both a taxonomical division of wildlife into “good” and “bad” animals, and a common view that nature needed human intervention—an idea of human supremacy that also resonates through Carl Berger’s lectures. Such human sentiments were, according to Loo, often more influential over policy than was science, with human fears of particular predators leading to aggressive killings, while other predators were revered, almost religiously. In some cases, Loo implies that Aboriginal peoples were treated as just another part of the ecosystem, to be sentimentalized and manipulated.
Loo’s last chapter considers the collaborations between private individuals, non-profit organizations, and the federal government, showing how diverse initiatives cast wildlife as an economic resource in need of management; this was particularly evident in the case of Ducks Unlimited Canada, which worked to conserve Canadian wetlands for the benefit of American waterfowl hunting. In this chapter, Loo argues that individuals and organizations that were marginalized by government conservation efforts such as game restrictions actually performed very important conservation efforts in their attempts to preserve their ways of life or economic wellbeing.
John Sandlos expands significantly on Loo’s work, detailing federal government attempts to control Aboriginal peoples in the Northwest Territories under the guise of wildlife conservation. Although his analysis occasionally reads like a conspiracy theory, and perhaps overstates the social control element in wildlife conservation, he certainly illustrates how wildlife conservation was not a neutral process. Sandlos’s text has a somewhat unusual organization, considering in turn the policies pertaining to bison, muskoxen, and caribou. This makes his work repetitive at times, and understates the connections between these facets of conservation. At several points, Sandlos illustrates the tensions between anti-modern and modern forces; for example, he argues that wildlife conservation proponents disputed popular images of Aboriginal peoples living in harmony with nature; these conservationists claimed that such a stereotype reflected pre-contact lifestyles, and not the practices of Aboriginal peoples who had been “tainted” by modernity. Strikingly, despite this apparent concern about the consequences of modernity, government officials implemented policies that imposed modernity on Aboriginal peoples through sedentary rather than nomadic lifestyles and wage labour or agriculture rather than hunting. Sandlos’s argument that conservation initiatives resulted in control and oppression of Aboriginal peoples is undermined, however, by his assertion that this imposition of power was a deliberate imposition of power over Aboriginal communities; while the pragmatic, commercial goals of conservation are clear from the evidence he presents, he does not clearly support his argument that the imposition of power was a goal of conservation, rather than a side-effect that the government encouraged.
Of potential concern, none of these three monographs offer a particularly explicit definition of modernity. Wall identifies modernity as a spatial organization, perhaps a component of urbanization. Loo and Sandlos potentially equate modernity with science. In highlighting the tensions between modernity and anti-modernity, showing how summer camps and environmentalists attempted to negotiate in modern and anti-modern constructed spheres, these three historians perhaps illustrate, collectively, how slippery ideas of modernity can be, for agents in the twentieth century as well as for historians. The modernity that emerges in these works is symbolic, an accumulation of science, policies, order, and control, rather than an absolutely defined concept. The idea of an anti-modern is similarly represented through symbols, such as wildlife, Aboriginal peoples, natural “northern” spaces, and leisure. The two are defined in relation to one another, without either ever being specifically pinned down.
This week’s final two works consider interactions between the natural and political worlds. In The Politics of Development, H.V. Nelles outlines the involvement of the Ontario provincial government in late nineteenth and early twentieth century staples industries, arguing that the province’s business-oriented strategy to development resulted in the Ontario government becoming essentially a business client. Nelles presents twelve chapters, both thematic and chronological, to analyze the role of the Ontario government in mining, forestry, and hydroelectricity. These three “new” staples industries experienced variations in Ontario’s “manufacturing condition” development strategy, which reproduced many elements of the federal National Policy on a provincial level and valued industrialization based on a northern resource base. The provincial government, according to Nelles, aggressively supported staples industries and the manufacturing industries that emerged from them, by promoting investments, granted access to resources, and creating infrastructure such as railways that would serve the needs of entrepreneurs. To varying degrees, the Ontario government controlled these industries; it owned the hydroelectric industry and strictly regulated forestry through conservation policies, while it had more limited power over mining operations.
Nelles particularly outlines how the intersection between politics and business reshaped and potentially undermined principles of responsible government. Involvement with staples resource industries became a test of ministerial accountability, where politicians were forced to balance their business roles as shareholders with their responsibility to constitutional process. This test of ministerial judgment was often less than satisfactory, as the government privileged business interests. Businesses based on staples industries could thus “use the state to stabilize, extend, and legitimize their economic power” (427). This was particularly evident, Nelles argues, during the Depression, when industrialists gained at the expense of other social groups, eroding the social sense of responsible government.
Nelles’s foreword to the second Carleton Library edition of his work addresses the limitations of his work, aside, of course, from its length. Given its publication in 1974, this monograph does not engage with elements of new social history or environmental history; consideration of racial, class, and gender inequalities, or lived experiences, are absent from his work. Nelles also analyzes natural resources more as resources than as nature, focusing on their economic and political rather than social and cultural implications. While his prefatory remarks are useful, I would have preferred to see an abridged and updated Politics of Development, rather than a reprint, perhaps integrating these social issues into Nelles’s political economics analysis.
Matthew Evenden draws on Nelles’s concept of the “politics of development” in his monograph, Fish Versus Power. This study considers the unique position of British Columbia’s Fraser River, as a large river in a populated area without damming on its main branch. The lack of damming, Evenden argues, is a result of a complex interaction between the hydroelectric and fisheries industries, shaped by transnational environmental, political, and economic concerns; scientific debates and interventions; and the province’s physical geography. Evenden’s work largely focuses on the economic and political connections in the environmental history of the Fraser River, although he does draw in some social and cultural elements—not, I would argue, particularly successfully. He does, however, illustrate the clear links between environmental history and the history of science.
Evenden opens his monograph with a discussion of rockslides at Hells Gate in 1913, triggered by railway construction, that had a dramatic impact on salmon spawning. The blockage in the river prompted scientific debate about the nature of salmon spawning, and attempts to aid the fish in swimming up the Fraser to reach their spawning streams. Unlike the conservation efforts outlined by Loo and Sandlos, work to move the fish considered limited Coast Salish knowledge of the area, combining Indigenous methods of manipulating the fish with Euro-Canadian scientific authority. In this section, Evenden brings in his first sliver of incomplete cultural analysis, suggesting that narratives in discovery showed scientists’ attempts to make meaning from their work, and that the rockslides caused changes in the cultural meaning of Hells Gate. However, he provides no examples of such narratives, or evidence of a changing cultural meaning. Despite their use of Coast Salish knowledge of Hells Gate, scientists echoed what we have already seen to be a common twentieth century concern of Aboriginal mismanagement of resources, restricting Coast Salish fishing that they believed would undermine efforts to rescue the fish. This had a long-term impact of fish shortages, increasing economic dependence on government aid.
 Evenden then turns to the issue of tributary damming, a project that would be easier from an engineering perspective and less harmful to fish. He argues that the engineering complexity of damming the Fraser River, in addition to conflicts with the fisheries, prompted alternative sites for dams, such as Coquitlam River, which was dammed in 1903. He notes that this dam caused conflict with Coast Salish people who fished in the area, but that their concerns were secondary to those of the Euro-Canadian fishery and cannery industry on the main branch of the Fraser. This debate, as with Hells Gate, involved significant scientific inquiry, part of what Evenden calls “hydraulic imperialism” (79-80). Evenden returns to Hells Gate in his third chapter, showing how scientists made meaning at Hells Gate in their attempts to study the salmon and build fishways—essentially, detours for fish around debris blocking the river. In this context, fishways were a domestication of the landscape, enabling industry to lay claim on the river.
Evenden’s next consideration is of heavy industry and its social, political, and economic implications. First, he considers the postwar demand for electricity, for which state involvement rested on considerable public support. His following chapter focuses on the aluminum industry, showing local and international iterations of a goal of modernization and competition, shaped by the Cold War context. Evenden argues that the politics of development joined and transformed local and international concerns. In the case of aluminum, there was significant conflict with the fishing industry, as aluminum required hydroelectric dams. This placed the government in a complex role, as mediator, decision-maker, and beneficiary, when interacting with industrial interests.
In his sixth chapter, Evenden finally reaches the crux of the “fish versus power” debate. This debate, he argues, was not strictly industrial, although it was dominated by industry. It provided an impetus for coalitions between otherwise disparate bodies, as fish and power each drew supporters from across social divisions and political lines. Notably, the debate paid little attention to the impact on native fisheries, and did not consider native perspectives. Rather than focusing on nature, opponents argued in terms of resources and their economic potential, as well as the symbolic links of fish with tradition and identity, and electricity as progress. Evenden argues that, unlike modern environmental debates, “fish versus power” was utilitarian rather than romantic; it is possible, although he does not consider this, that such impressions may be a result of considering Euro-Canadian perspectives exclusively. Ultimately, the length of this debate resulted in dams in the Columbia and Peace rivers in British Columbia’s north and interior, postponing further development on the Fraser. The fish versus power debate, Evenden argues in his final chapter, was influential for science, with the debate and science shaping one another. The debate gave authority and privileged access to biological knowledge, building a division between experts and amateurs, and requiring approval by scientists for further development. This also shows how a new institutional framework emerged for a bidirectional relationship between politics and science.
The arguments in these works are quite salient for contemporary economic and environmental debates. For example, Sandlos outlines how the federal government regulated large game, condemning Aboriginal people’s subsistence hunting, yet encouraging Euro-Canadian recreational hunting in some areas. One can see a more recent echo in current debates about carbon emissions in developing countries, and the desire from industrialized nations—who had themselves benefitted from unrestricted carbon emissions while industrializing—to restrict emissions elsewhere. This is, of course, not to say that global warming is a conspiracy to economically benefit privileged nations; neither, I suspect, was conservation purely a ploy to further marginalize Aboriginal peoples, although its rhetoric was evidently used to that effect. Nelles’s work also has some frightening contemporary echoes in the corporate bailouts from federal and provincial governments that have aided large industries, without corresponding social welfare initiatives to support individuals and families who are unconnected to these industries. While the Ontario government of the early twentieth century, according to Nelles, was at one with business interests from staples industries, the current government similarly privileges the manufacturing industry. If it were shorter, present members of provincial parliament could do well to read this monograph.

This reading response was cheered on by geese. They had little to say about antimodernism.


Carl Berger, Science, God, and Nature
Karen Dubinsky, The Second Greatest Disappointment
Patricia Jasen, Wild Things

Broadly, this week’s texts consider concepts of construction and the landscape in Canada since the nineteenth century. Carl Berger’s series of lectures shows how natural history was an important component to the extension and diversification of science in nineteenth-century Canada, illustrating the interconnectedness of science, aesthetics, and religion. Patricia Jasen’s study of tourism in Ontario shows Euro-Canadians’ search for meanings of wilderness, arguing that the key theme in nineteenth-century Ontario tourism is the tension and interplay between notions of civilization and wildness, produced and recast for political, social, and economic purposes.[1] Karen Dubinsky’s work is more multifaceted, weaving together analyses of tourism and sexuality by studying honeymooning at Niagara Falls. Her work considers the shifting cultural meanings of Niagara Falls and tourism more broadly by examining tourist scripts and deviations from norms in tourism, carefully intertwining the study of tourism with the study of honeymoons and hegemonic heterosexuality. Dubinsky’s consideration of landscape and tourism expands on Jasen’s analyses of Niagara Falls, while Jasen’s argument that tourism furthered expansionism echoes Berger’s assertion that the organization of science locally, nationally, and internationally resembled the political structures of provincialism and centralization.[2]
Berger’s Science, God, and Nature is the only one of these three texts to consider the role of religion in interpretations of the natural world. His three lectures parallel his title, and chronologically consider the emergence, activities, and decline of natural history in Canada. His first lecture, “Science,” details the role of the metropolitan centre in initiating scientific efforts, describing the parallels in natural history pursuits between Britain and Canada. According to Berger, natural history in Canada was a broad and accessible activity, with religious and colonial motivations. Despite the connections between Canadian naturalists and British institutions, and the American influences on the field, Canadian naturalists felt a self-conscious patriotism in their work.[3] Subsequently, in “God,” Berger shows how naturalists blended scientific goals with aesthetic and religious appreciation of the natural world, seeing nature as a “product of divine activity;” this made natural history a natural theology, and evangelical rather than simply practical. Scientific study was thus an “act of worship” and a moral discipline that enabled men to learn about God. In his final lecture, “Nature,” Berger outlines the impact of Darwin’s theories of evolution on natural history. According to Berger, Darwinism destroyed the link between science and faith that was central to natural history. This had a contested reception in Canada and an ambiguous legacy, resulting in a higher status of the sciences and greater specialization and segmentation between scientific disciplines.[4]
Patricia Jasen’s monograph, Wild Things, considers tourism in Ontario between 1790 and 1914, an era of imperial expansion and concern for racial health. Her work progresses chronologically, but chapters are divided thematically and geographically. Jasen’s main themes of analysis are the role of imagination in tourism and tourism in colonization, and the class and gender implications of these processes. Her introduction powerfully demonstrates the symbolism of Ontario’s wilderness for tourism and as a means of measuring the progress of civilization. She introduces Mary Louise Pratt’s concept of the contact zone, which she uses throughout her text to conceptualize the interactions between tourists and Native peoples. Jasen highlights the racial underpinnings of tourism, situating native peoples as a relic from the past in European imaginings of their own civilization, and presenting the wilderness as a matter of perception rather than reality. Jasen’s first main chapter focuses on Niagara, which she presents as a prototype and embodiment of romantic tourism. Niagara, for the tourists who visited it, was symbolic of New World subliminality, danger, and mystery, structured through romantic values. This symbolism developed an air of irony as Niagara Falls became more commercial and less wild through more tourist involvement. Jasen next studies tourism along the St. Lawrence river, showing how it became a panoramic landscape rather than a wilderness, and a moving destination that connected other experiences for tourists.
The strength of Jasen’s work lies in her analyses of more northern regions of Ontario; analyzing the Lake Superior area as a space of wilderness, symbolic of primitive life in a primordial world, Jasen shows how Native presence became central to tourist experiences.[5] This is where Jasen begins to make significant use of Pratt’s concept of contact zones, pointing out that Ojibwe peoples living around Lake Superior had some extent of agency, acknowledging that this is not always immediately clear in her selected primary sources. Newspapers portrayed the Lake Superior area as a frontier, and the press and travel writings presented Ojibwe peoples in generic, vague, and idyllic terms, without consideration of colonial conflict; in these sources, encounters between Ojibwe peoples and tourists were voyeuristic and brief. Unlike the Niagara and St. Lawrence areas, the subliminality of the Lake Superior region was not compromised by tourist traffic, making it a symbolic space indicating the movement from the past to the future.
Jasen’s penultimate chapter moves southward, considering the role of rest cures in tourism, particularly in the Muskoka area. Rest cures show the connection between tourism and ideas of racial health, positioning holidays as a means of recovering from the ill effects of civilization by enabling upper middle class and elite Torontonians to seek their inner wildness. Tourist literature in the late nineteenth century presented the Muskoka area, unlike Niagara, to have the potential to soothe through its purity and serenity. The end of this chapter briefly considers tourism closer to Toronto, particularly on the Toronto islands, where tourists segregated themselves according to class, enabling the working classes to experience some elements of rejuvenation in a natural area without impeding on upper class sociable relaxation.
Jasen’s final chapter on the relationships between tourists and Ojibwe guides makes further use of the contact zone, arguing that the relationship between white tourists and their guides became a way for tourists to consider ideas of primitivity and civilization in their writing, showing the ambiguity and contested meanings of these concepts. Once again, Jasen’s choice of sources means that the guides have a limited voice. Although she suggests the potential for using oral history to learn their perspectives, there is evidence that these guides found their work to be economically viable and were able to maintain dignity and control even in their unequal working relationships. Nonetheless, these guides were marginalized as mere images for the tourists; while they were praised as useful for tourists’ survival, they were more prominent as an alluring image of the wilderness. Jasen ultimately concludes that there was little change in the aesthetics of tourism through the nineteenth century. More broadly, she argues that the tourist industry paralleled national growth, resource exploitation and immigration; tourists asserted their rights to presence in the contact zone and reproduced racial and class prejudices that aided the expansionist cause.[6]
Karen Dubinsky, in The Second Greatest Disappointment, studies tourism at Niagara Falls, focusing on heterosexuality as expressed through honeymooning. She describes the honeymoon as a “public declaration of heterosexual citizenship” and Niagara Falls as a “theme park of heterosexuality,” setting the stage for chronologically ordered yet thematically meaningful chapters that interweave themes of sexuality and tourism. Following her introduction, Dubinsky begins the body of her analysis by exploring the imaginary geography that made Niagara the first honeymoon site in the world, studied through advice manuals and semi-fictionalized sexual memoirs. Dubinsky indicates the sexual symbolism of Niagara Falls as a place of both pleasure and terror, and as an icon of femininity; the imagery in memoirs and poetry describing Niagara Falls showed it as quite sexualized. Next, Dubinsky considers the racialization of tourist experiences, using Pratt’s theory of contact zones to emphasize the unequal relationships and interactions that enabled white Europeans to know and claim the falls through their writings as tourists. In these writings, Niagara Falls and the Native peoples who lived nearby held images of both tameness and wildness, making it alternately desirable and disappointing in tourist narratives.
Economic and class issues are a pervasive theme through Dubinsky’s work. Dubinsky’s fourth chapter considers the conflict between entrepreneurs and local authorities concerning ownership of the areas surrounding the falls. This conflict illuminated ethnic and racial stereotypes held by residents of the Niagara area, and by the historians who have subsequently studied this conflict. In writing about claims for the land surrounding the Falls, Dubinsky’s analysis would benefit from more closely considering Aboriginal claims to the land, on both sides of the Niagara river and the Canada-US border. Describing the efforts of the Niagara Parks Commission to regulate the behaviour of entrepreneurs and visitors to Niagara Falls, Dubinsky argues that visiting Niagara Falls “was a social act, embedded in human relationships.” Heavy industry became another element of the social and physical landscape; the “industrial sublime” became part of the attraction for tourists, integrating industrial activity with tourism and reconciling otherwise incompatible economic sectors. Industries remained central to Niagara’s economic, social, and political life outside of tourism; the Shredded Wheat company, for example, acted as a business, tourist destination, and venue for social and community activities.[7] The economy is also central to Dubinsky’s next chapter, which analyzes the impact of 1920s and 1930s economic changes on Niagara tourism. Economic fluctuations in these decades necessitated inventive marketing strategies to appeal to tourist values. Illuminating the falls at night, for instance, was an example of the technical sublime and a means of encouraging overnight stays in the area. These fluctuations also exacerbated conflicts between tourism entrepreneurs, widening the racial, ethnic, and class divisions in the service industry.
Dubinsky’s remaining chapters consider sexuality in more detail. She outlines, for example, how journalists and travel writers used Niagara Falls to see into private lives as sexuality became more visible and more obviously sexual. During the 1940s and 1950s, heterosexuality became a potential concern, needing to be distinguished from homosexuality, and, particularly in the United States, was a matter of public health and scientific, national duty. With this visibility, working-class and gay couples began to imitate honeymooning, previously the purview of middle-class, white, heterosexual couples. This was partially a response to marketing of the honeymoon, often through gimmicks and tricks, and partially a result of Niagara’s position as a simultaneously exotic and affordable destination, patriotically close to home. Niagara became symbolic of the tourism boom in postwar Canada, and highlighted the cross-border rivalry between Canada and the USA, as a national rather than merely commercial concern. While Niagara Falls was boosted in popularity through media visibility, such as in a 1952 film on Niagara honeymoons, it was increasingly criticized as tacky and corrupt, losing its allure for the elite and becoming a working-class bawdy destination that juxtaposed natural grandeur with commercial sleaze.
Returning explicitly to the honeymoon, Dubinsky outlines how it became still more obviously sexual, to the extent that “Niagara” became a euphemism for talking about sex. Sex was central to the imaginary geography of Niagara Falls in the late twentieth century, integrated into local commercial ventures, with entrepreneurs showing awareness of sexuality as performed.[8] Dubinsky concludes by discussing the decline of Niagara Falls as a tourist destination, particularly for honeymoons, speculating on a possibility for it to become a gay and lesbian tourist destination for honeymoons as heterosexual couples go elsewhere.
There are conceptual links worth probing that connect these three works, or pairs within this group of three. While gender is present throughout Dubinsky’s analysis, it is less so in Berger’s and Jasen’s works. Women’s participation in science and tourism is thus a more exceptional element that each historian considers. Berger describes Catharine Parr Traill’s work on botany as a rare example of women’s participation in nineteenth-century natural history in Canada. Parr Traill blended scientific and literary ideas and expressions by examining her own emotional responses to nature.[9] Berger does not particularly consider the gendered elements of this work, but does mention that this was a somewhat socially acceptable pursuit for a woman of her class. The experiences of women as naturalists more generally do not figure much in Berger’s work. Jasen considers women’s experiences somewhat more broadly, noting that while women certainly participated as tourists, their voices in travel writings were often overshadowed by those of men. However, some women indicated being somewhat less constrained while travelling on rest cures than in their urban lives, using tourism as a way to temporarily redefine their identities.[10]
Anxieties over industrialization figure prominently in Dubinsky’s and Jasen’s monographs. Jasen shows how concerns over the impact of civilization on indigenous peoples, the landscape, and white urban society was important to the formation of the tourist industry. Dubinsky considers the economic implications of industrialization on the tourist industry. Collectively, both historians show how the tourist industry used social concerns to their advantage. Interestingly, this did not occur with the natural history that Berger analyzes; major changes to science could not be incorporated into main paradigms of knowledge. Of course, science and tourism are not really comparable in this sense, but the connections between science and tourism would be an intriguing subject for further analysis.
Portrayals of native peoples are also a potential point of comparison. Berger describes how naturalists studied native peoples alongside plants, as specimens at risk of extinction.[11] Similar tropes appear in Jasen’s work, where native guides were images of the wilderness, primitivity, and decline.[12] Dubinsky also indicates how tourists saw native peoples as part of the natural landscape, and symbolic of the wilderness.[13] One potential absence in the work of all three historians is considering whether these images were part of the aesthetics that all three describe, as Berger links nature and science with appreciations of aesthetics, and Jasen and Dubinsky both analyze the aesthetic representations of natural landscapes.




[1] Jasen, 28.
[2] Jasen, 152; Berger, 23.
[3] Berger, 3-5, 10, 11, 22-23.
[4] Berger, 32, 33, 46, 53, 76.
[5] Jasen, 4, 14, 16, 17, 19, 29, 30, 54, 56, 78-79, 80.
[6] Jasen, 91, 95, 98-99, 105, 124, 127, 133, 136-137, 140, 134, 150, 152.
[7] Dubinsky, 1, 3, 25-28, 41-45, 59-60, 63, 87, 95, 105, 106, 112-114.
[8] Dubinsky, 124, 150, 155, 160-162, 173-175, 178-179, 198-208, 224, 227, 235.
[9] Berger, 35-36.
[10] Jasen, 152.
[11] Berger, 41.
[12] Jasen, 134.
[13] Dubinsky, 61