Despite being temporally and
geographically linked, the connections between Allan Greer’s Mohawk Saint and Louise Dechêne’s Le Peuple, l’État, et la Guerre are not
exceptionally strong. As both monographs use quite different approaches for
their only somewhat related topics, analytical similarities between the two are
perhaps tenuous; I would argue that what brings these works together is their
emphasis on problematizing dominant narratives, often with non-traditional
readings of sources. Such an argument, however, merely shows that both are
fairly well situated in a recent historiography that reconceptualizes issues
that older historians have explored; both texts are more unique than that. It
therefore makes more sense for me to analyze them separately, to avoid creating
a laundry list of seemingly arbitrary similarities and differences.
Louise Dechêne’s work was a
challenge for me, as it involved reading quite significant amounts of French!
My understanding of her methods and argument may therefore be entirely
off-base. Dechêne takes a myth that the Canadiens were belligerent by nature
and problematizes it, considering the relationship between the Canadiens and
France, their collective psychology, and the religious implications of their
defeat. According to Dechêne, war was critical to society in French Canada
during the 1700s; a full understanding of it entails studying the history of
the family, agriculture, commerce, and so forth.[1]
Where some historians have argued that the Canadiens felt abandoned by France
during and after the Seven Years War, Dechêne claims that the sense of
abandonment present during that era was religious, rather than colonial or
political, mediated through ecclesiastical discourses and furthered through
British propaganda.[2]
Dechêne argues for a tighter relationship between France and French Canada than
many historians would posit, claiming that the notion of nationality often
applied by historians is anachronistic for this period; instead, Canadiens were
linked closely to France and to their king.[3]
As this work was published
posthumously, it includes valuable commentary by Dechêne’s contemporaries. They
emphasize the conceptual path between Dechêne’s earlier work, Habitants et Marchands, and this newer
monograph, showing how the former placed the state parenthetically to the
analysis; I read this as meaning that the state was intentionally an
afterthought, opposite to older trends in top-down history where the state
would be at the forefront, with society (to the degree that it can be separated
from the state?) largely forgotten. It was not clear to me exactly how this
parenthetical relationship played out, without having read Habitants et Marchands, and also perhaps not fully understanding
the nuances of the forward to this work; how does Dechêne conceptualize the
relationship between the state and society in this later work?
There was one particularly puzzling
element in Thomas Wein’s forward to Dechêne’s text. He linked the experiences
of the Canadiens in New France to Rwandans and Yugoslavians during 1990s
genocidal regimes, claiming that such links make this work more broadly about,
and against, war.[4]
Indeed Dechêne talked broadly about the atrocities of war, on the page he
referenced, but she makes no mention of more recent instances of genocide. This
is peculiar, in that he evidently reads more into her argument than she
specifies; in addition, as genocide is such a politically charged issue, he at
once implies more systemic violence against French Canadians than Dechêne
describes. To me, this undermines the credibility of the forward, which I had
been using to help me to understand the dense (and French!) text.
Allan Greer’s Mohawk Saint was a decidedly more accessible work for this
Anglophone student, and a fascinating examination of religion, colonialism,
gender, and identity. While Greer describes his work as a “dual biography,”[5]
after studying numerous works on indigenous health and healing last semester, I
saw it as particularly valuable as a study of bidirectional incorporation of
religious and healing practices. I began reading with a distinct feeling of
wariness towards the Jesuits, particularly after Greer described them as aiming
to “harvest” Iroquois souls—which was a bit too reminiscent for my liking of
Warwick Anderson’s description of the colonial scientist and brain harvester
Gajdusek. It became clear, however, that the personal motivations of the
Jesuits at Kahnawake were at least intended for more than their individual
gain, lending them some sympathy; perhaps this is how Greer’s “dual biography”
comes into play. I was particularly intrigued by how Greer reframed ideas of
conversion to Christianity to show how it was really an interpenetration of
religion and cultures between the Iroquois and the Jesuits, with neither fully understanding
the other, particularly in relation to the self-injurious behaviours of the
Christian Iroquois women and various attempts to make meaning from it.[6]
I certainly read it as an attempt at dissociation, perhaps as a response to
trauma, when I first heard of religious practices of self-mortification; Greer
also acknowledges this possibility.[7]
There is a good deal more that I have drawn from this text, making me
particularly eager for this Thursday’s “large” group discussion.
Overall, there are some evident
commonalities between Greer’s and Dechêne’s works. The complication and framing
of religion features in both texts in somewhat unexpected ways, and each
historian re-inserts individuality and identity into broader discourses. Even
these intersections seem somewhat contrived, however, and I am hoping that each
monograph will connect more logically with other works on my list.
[1]
Dechêne, 58.
[2]
Dechêne, 458.
[3]
Dechêne, 457.
[4]
Thomas Wein, in Dechêne, 36.
[5]
Greer, x.
[6]
Greer, 118-123.
[7]
Greer, 121.
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