Eastern and Western Perspectives: Papers from the Joint Atlantic Canada/Western Canadian Studs. Conference 9781442656840

Table of contents :
Contents
Preface
Acknowledgments
The Franco-Canadian communities of western Canada since 1945
The flowering of the Acadian renaissance
In search of a post-confederation Maritime historiography, 1900-1967
The writing of history in western Canada
The great merchant and economic development in Saint John, 1820-1850
Patterns of prairie urban development 1871-1950 Urban
An Atlantic region political culture: a chimera
Political culture in the west
Three generations of fiction: an introduction to prairie cultural history
Economic growth in the Atlantic region, 1880-1940

Citation preview

Eastern and Western Perspectives The Atlantic Canada and Western Canadian Studies Conferences have focused attention in recent years on the culture and development of two widely separated regions which have frequently been ignored in studies of the Canadian nation. The Atlantic Canada Studies Conference, meeting in 1974 and 1976 at the University of New Brunswick, and the Western Canadian Studies Conference, meeting annually since 1968 at the University of Calgary, have brought together scholars from a variety of disciplines to study the identities and characteristics of these two hinterlands. In 1978 the two conferences met jointly, in a session at Fredericton and one at Calgary with a core of speakers and papers common to both. The purpose was to compare and contrast subjects and experiences of interest and concern in the west and in Atlantic Canada. The ten papers which comprise Eastern and Western Perspectives are selected from twenty-seven presented at the joint conference. The topics chosen not only illustrate some of the preoccupations of regional historians and political scientists, but also echo many of the concerns of Canadians in general. The plight of islands of francophone culture in the midst of an overwhelmingly Anglo-American society, the search for identities in the face of persisting stereotypes, the effects of economic and urban development, the distinctiveness of local political cultures - all are subjects whose study enriches both regional and national history. This volume brings together explorations of these themes from eastern and western points of view and makes a unique contribution to a greater understanding and awareness of the regional dimension in Canadian life. DAVID JAY BERCUSON is professor of history at the University of Calgary and editor of Canadian Historical Review. PHILLIP A. BUCKNER is professor of history at the University of New Brunswick and editor of Acadiensis.

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Edited by DAVID JAY BERCUSON and PHILLIP A. BUCKNER

Eastern and Western Perspectives PAPERS FROM THE JOINT ATLANTIC CANADA / WESTERN CANADIAN STUDIES CONFERENCE

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS Toronto Buffalo London

© University of Toronto Press 1981 Toronto Buffalo London Printed in Canada ISBN 0-8020-2390-8 (cloth) ISBN 0-8020-6415-9 (paper)

Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data Joint Atlantic Canada/Western Canadian Studies Conference (1978 : Calgary, Aha. and Fredericton, N.B.) Eastern and western perspectives ISBN 0-8020-2390-8 (bound). - ISBN 0-8020-6415-9 (pbk.) I. Canada, Western - Congresses.* 2. Atlantic Provinces - Congresses.* I. Bercuson, David Jay, 1945- II. Buckner, Phillip A. (Phillip Alfred) 1942- III. Title. Fcio.J64 971 c81-094297-6 Fioo8.j64

In memory of Robert Painchaud and David Alexander

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Contents

PREFACE / ix ACKNOWLEDGMENTS / xii

The Franco-Canadian communities of western Canada since 1945 / 3 Robert Painchaud The flowering of the Acadian renaissance / 19 George F. G. Stanley In search of a post-confederation Maritime historiography, 1900-1967 / 47 E.R. Forbes The writing of history in western Canada / 69 Lewis G. Thomas The great merchant and economic development in Saint John, 1820-1850/85 T.W.Acheson Patterns of prairie urban development, 1871-1950 / 115 Alan F.J. Artibise An Atlantic region political culture: a chimera / 147 J. Murray Beck Political culture in the west / 169 David E. Smith

viii Contents Three generations of fiction: an introduction to prairie cultural history / 183 Gerald Friesen Economic growth in the Atlantic region, 1880-1940 / 197 David Alexander

Preface

The recent growth of interest in local and regional studies in Canada was both inevitable and long delayed. Canada, by virtue of geography, climate, immigration patterns, and other basic factors, is a country of regions. But regional differences, combined with Canada's division into French- and English-speaking groups and the overwhelming presence of the United States, have created pessimism among Canadian thinkers about the chances of Canadian survival. Local and regional studies force Canadians to face two realities at the same time: that Canada is marked by regional differences, and that those differences contribute to a fragile national existence. Those who prefer not to speculate about the survival of Canada, and those who believe that regional studies increase the odds against that survival, have had ambivalent attitudes at best towards those studies. Until recently, scholars who focused on local and regional studies tended to do so in a way that was often deliberately calculated to enhance Canada's national character. The fur trade, the wheat economy, and the lumber industry were examined as necessary foundations to the birth of Canada as a single political entity. But in the past decade or so this trend has all but disappeared. There is now a growing tendency to study local and regional themes as ends in themselves. The reaction against this in some quarters has been both predictable and emotional, but the trend will undoubtedly continue, not because those engaged in regional studies see themselves as 'antinational' champions, but because they are certain that Canadian studies will gain, not lose, through a greater understanding of the regional dimension. The flourishing of regional studies is not the result of a self-conscious effort to rewrite Canadian history. It is the collective result of the work of

x Preface many individuals who pursue knowledge for different purposes, in different disciplines, and in different times and places. Inevitably, much of this activity has taken place in the hinterlands of the country, in western and Atlantic Canada. It is, after all, the history of these two regions that has frequently been ignored in studies dealing with larger 'national' themes. In the west an important catalyst has been the Western Canadian Studies Conference, held annually at the University of Calgary since 1969. In the east a similar function has been performed by the Atlantic Canada Studies Conferences held in 1974 and 1976 at the University of New Brunswick. In the spring of 1978 the two conferences were combined into one unique presentation that reflected the state of the art in eastern and western regional studies. The purpose was to compare and contrast a variety of subjects and experiences common to Atlantic Canada and the west. The organizers were faced with a dilemma: how to combine a conference held annually in Calgary with one held every two years in Fredericton. One proposal that was immediately rejected was to hold a single combined meeting in central Canada at Toronto or Ottawa. Logistics and regional pride dictated a second course - a two-part conference with a core of papers and speakers common to both. One group of commentators was invited to part I at Calgary while another group was used in part II at Fredericton. Two widely separated audiences were thus able to attend a single event. The success of the endeavour was beyond question. More than 600 persons interested in the west and Atlantic Canada were present either at Calgary or at Fredericton. What follows is a selection of the papers presented at the conference. The process of selection presented unusual difficulties. In total twenty-seven papers were delivered to the conference, but only ten could be included in this publication. Somewhat arbitrarily, the editors decided to select those papers which appeared to arouse the greatest interest in Calgary and Fredericton. A number of very fine papers delivered at the joint conference therefore do not appear in this collection. We regret that we were forced to take this decision, but undoubtedly these papers will soon become available in other scholarly publications. Three of the papers which follow have already appeared in Acadiensis and we are grateful for permission to reprint them. The other papers, drawn from scholars working in a variety of disciplines, appear here for the first time. The editors have not attempted to impose any overall perspective on the collection. There are differences of emphasis and interpretation among the

xi Preface contributors, but collectively the papers do give a partial insight into the themes and concerns of regional scholars in the west and in the east. One paper appears in this volume completely unrevised. Shortly after the conference in Fredericton, Robert Painchaud was killed in an air crash on Friday, 23 June 19785 en route to L'Anse-aux-Meadows, Newfoundland, with several other members of the National Historic Sites and Monuments Board of Canada. Tragically, Robert Painchaud is not the only contributor to this volume who did not live to see its publication. In the summer of 1980 David Alexander succumbed to cancer. His battle had been long and heroic. He worked and contributed to the end. We dedicate this volume to Robert and David. Canada has lost two fine scholars and we have lost two good friends. D.J.B. P.A.B.

Acknowledgments

The editors would like to acknowledge the support and encouragement of the history departments at the University of Calgary and the University of New Brunswick. Financial assistance for the Fredericton portion of the conference was provided by the University of New Brunswick, St Thomas University, the Provincial Archives of New Brunswick, the government of New Brunswick, and the Canada Council. Assistance for the Calgary meeting was given by the Special Project Fund of the University of Calgary Board of Governors, the University of Calgary Grants Committee, the dean of the Faculty of Social Sciences of the University of Calgary, the Department of History of the university, and the Canada Council. Special thanks go to Ruth McLeod in Fredericton, who handled much of the local arrangements, and to the Conference Office of the University of Calgary. This volume has been published with the aid of a grant from the Publications Committee of the University of Calgary.

EASTERN AND WESTERN PERSPECTIVES: PAPERS FROM THE JOINT ATLANTIC CANADA / WESTERN CANADIAN STUDIES CONFERENCE

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ROBERT PAINCHAUD

The Franco-Canadian communities of western Canada since 1945

The organizers of this joint Western-Atlantic Studies Conference stipulated that this paper should deal with the 'plight' of French Canadians in western Canada and that it should be as general as possible. Disregarding the notion that the presence of anything French in the west is perhaps more a 'blight,' I propose to focus on the applicability of the concept of 'plight' to the francophone minority of western Canada. Assuming that this concept implies the condition or state of hopelessness, we may well ask ourselves in what ways and to what extent the status and position of the French fact in the west have either gained or lost ground. Indeed, it may well be that the clamour coming from the newly created Federation des francophones hors Quebec (FFHQ), and widely reported across the country, is merely a contemporary version of an old story. In the 1870s, men like Archbishop Alexandre Taché, Father Albert Lacombe, Joseph Royal, and others were expressing their concern about the survivance of French Canadian society on the prairies. The same refrain was heard again after 1890 and 1916, when the French-speaking and Catholic population lamented the loss of their education rights and concluded that these developments were part of a deliberate attempt to swamp the French element in the west. The school of nationaliste historians in French Canada has never ceased to subscribe to this interpretation.1 This paper will compare and contrast the position of western francophone communities in the immediate post-World War II era with their situation today and will show how events and developments must be weighed in relative terms. For example, we must ask whether or not the secularization that has taken place has proved beneficial. Similarly, does the increasing separation of linguistic and religious interests among the francophone minorities

4 Robert Painchaud indicate that their end is near, given that language and faith have always been believed to be inseparable? In another area, are we to conclude that the federal government's program of'multiculturalism within a bilingual framework' implies the destruction of western francophone hopes for a 'special status' within confederation?2 These and similar questions demonstrate the need to assess changes over the past thirty years carefully. As will be seen, while there is admittedly much to show how individual francophones have opted out of their ancestral ties, there is a great deal of evidence of how the French-speaking cause has progressed appreciably in western Canada, especially in institutional terms. I In 1945, western francophones enjoyed little legal or political support in their attempt to survive as distinctive communities. From 1870 on, they had argued in favour of pan-Canadian bilingualism, but their hopes had been dashed by developments in the late I9th and early 2oth centuries when the Anglo-Saxon majority had successfully moved to fashion western society into a predominantly anglophone one where other linguistic or cultural groups would have privileges but not rights. By the end of World War I, the French language had lost its legal status as a language of instruction in the public school systems, and the federal government had clearly indicated that it was not prepared to rise to the defence of the French fact beyond the borders of Quebec. At the close of World War n, representatives of the three Franco-Canadian groups - the Association d'education des Canadiens-franfais du Manitoba (AECFM), the Association catholique francocanadienne de la Saskatchewan (later changed to Association culturelle, ACFC), and the Association canadienne-fran9aise de 1'Alberta (AGFA) were still attempting to persuade the federal authorities that they should treat all French-speaking people across the country on equal terms. Lobbying for the recognition of what, for them at least, existed in the spirit and wording of the British North America Act, they called for the appointment of francophones to the Senate or the judiciary, as well as for the hiring of more French Canadians by government departments. The federal government, however, was not anxious to affirm the principle that the rights of francophones in the west were equal to those of the Quebecois. Thus, although western Franco-Canadians shared in the spoils

5 The Franco-Canadian communities of western Canada of office, their gains were not to be enlarged to any kind of legal or even political recognition. That point was made in 1945 when the three official bodies called upon the prime minister, W.L. Mackenzie King, the minister of health and welfare, Brooke Claxton, and the minister of justice, Louis St Laurent, to distribute bilingual family allowance cheques in all provinces. To the notion that federal politicians should take measures to ensure that 'le principe du bilinguisme etabli par nos peres de la Confederation soit maintenu dans toutes les provinces,' St Laurent responded somewhat laconically: 'Evidemment, nous poursuivons tous le meme but, mais nous n'avanfons pas notre cause en pretendant que le principe du bilinguisme a etc etabli par les Peres de la Confederation dans toutes les provinces du Canada. On aurait peut-etre du le faire, et il finira peut-etre par 1'etre, mais quant a ce qui a ete fait lors de la Confederation, il nous faut prendre les textes tels qu'ils existent.'3 The position taken by the Quebecois politicians was naturally reflected in the actions of federal boards and agencies. Thus, when the western francophone communities sought in the early 19408 to obtain a commitment from the CBC to establish state-owned and operated French language radio stations in the west, they were told that it was impossible and that their only recourse was to build the stations themselves. And so it was that in 1946 Radio Quest franfaise, with generous financial support from Quebec, launched the first of four stations that eventually formed a small private network. Interestingly, this wholly private venture encountered opposition from some western politicians, big city daily newspapers, and Protestant church groups who maintained that this move was a 'menace to Canadian unity.'4 The contrast with the 19705 is most striking. The idea of pan-Canadian bilingualism has received the endorsement of parliament, and the western francophone communities have benefited significantly from its implementation. Federal funds totalling millions of dollars have gone towards the administrative operations and special projects of the three prairie organizations, the Societe franco-manitobaine (SFM), the ACFC, and the AGFA. Public school programs in the second official language receive large subsidies from the Ottawa government. In addition, the federal government has worked out shared-cost capital funding for the establishment of an institut pedagogique at St Boniface College as well as for the construction of a cultural centre for Franco-Manitobans. Furthermore, after working out special arrangements in the 19505 with CKSB (St Boniface), CFRG (Gravelbourg),

6 Robert Painchaud CFNS (Saskatoon), and CHFA (Edmonton), Radio-Canada inaugurated French language television services beginning with CBWFT (Winnipeg) in 1960, and then purchased the radio stations outright in 1973-4. This major reversal in policy and direction on the part of the federal government, which has rediscovered its role in confederation as the protector of minority interests, has affected the individual and community life of the western Diaspora. By providing the financial and institutional tools, and by relieving the communities from having to tax themselves to maintain French language schools or to obtain services which other Canadians received as a matter of course, these new measures have given francophones the hope that they could soon take for granted what they previously struggled for and, more importantly perhaps, the opportunity to concentrate on rebuilding a stable and vibrant community. Still, what Franco-Canadians in the west have taken to be 'reparations' for past neglect has not satisfied them entirely.5 Much remains to be done to implement the bilingualism program in the west: no solution has yet been found to the problem of providing government services in French in areas of francophone concentration; French language television services are not available in a number of places; long-term financing for cultural centres has not yet been worked out. And, what is most disturbing, there are suggestions that the federal government has merely been using the minorities as pawns in the struggle between federalists and Quebecois independantistes.6 Charging that in the years after 1968 the Trudeau-Pelletier duo manipulated them in order to impress the French-speaking Quebecois with the vitality and viability of a French Canada beyond the borders of la belle province, francophone leaders warn that they will not allow their expectations to be ignored or federal promises forgotten.7 The ACFC outlined areas where implementation of the Official Languages Act had not been pursued with any degree of urgency: Au niveau federal, par exemple, on ne retrouve qu'une presence purement symbolique de fonctionnaires ou d'employes bilingues en Saskatchewan. A 1'exception du bureau de Secretariat d'Etat a Regina, sauf erreur ou omission, il ne se trouve en Saskatchewan aucun bureau federal requerant Temploi de fonctionnaires ou d'employes bilingues charges d'offrir des services directs au grand public. Les tres rares employes bilingues travaillant dans des bureaux federaux en Saskatchewan sont bilingues par accident, ou le sont pour des exigences de fonctionne-

7 The Franco-Canadian communities of western Canada ment interne, comme c'est le cas de certains instructeurs de la G.R.C.. [Gendarmerie royale du Canada] ou des professeurs de cours de fran9ais aux fonctionnaires federaux. En ce qui concerne les societes d'Etat, telles que Air Canada, le service bilingue n'est pas institutionnalise et le climat n'est pas generalement favorable au fran£ais.8 On the whole, however, and despite what the motives might be, the federal government's volte-face in favour of the French-speaking groups over the past fifteen years augurs well for the future. The suggestion that a western bureau connected to the Commissioner of Official Languages might be established and proposals to assign responsibility for the education of official language minorities to the federal government contain ideas which could benefit western francophones. In both these instances, as well as in other issues which may arise in the coming months and years, the minorities will probably be far more vocal than ever before. Not unlike other neglected groups in Canadian society, the minority French-speaking communities have mastered the techniques of public relations and open confrontation with governments. The tenor and nature of relations with provincial governments have also changed over the past quarter century, especially in the field of education. In the past the western francophone groups never sought much more from the local governments than legislation (complemented by administrative structures) favouring the teaching of French and its use as a language of instruction in the public or separate schools of each province. Those rights, particularly in the province of Manitoba, were brushed aside in the 19108 and 19208. In 1945, French was not an official language of instruction in any of the three prairie provinces, although it is a well-known fact that in many instances French was both taught and used as a language of instruction as the result of informal arrangements between the AECFM, ACFC, AGFA, and the interested government. When Stuart Garson succeeded John Bracken as premier of Manitoba in 1943, the Franco-Manitoban leadership explained in a memorandum how a program of French language teaching was framed over the years and taught with the permission of the trustees to some 10,000 children in about 125 schools. Indeed, francophone teachers not only worked on the curriculum in their own time, but administered a French examination each year and organized their own summer school. The memorandum added:

8 Robert Painchaud Legally all this is outside the pale. It had been more or less understood with Premier Bracken that the leaders would go about it with extreme prudence. When Mr. Bracken came into power a delegation waited upon him and exposed the situation to him. Mr. Bracken did not commit himself or his government but in all these years we have had no trouble at all. It has happened once or more that some school Inspectors have been over-zealous but on the whole our relations have been excellent. Gradually the Dept. realized the services rendered by this body of moderate and well-balanced men. On very many occasions we have helped the Dept. to solve some problems arising in these communities. We have, especially in the last years, helped in finding school-teachers for schools which otherwise might have been left closed. It has become the habit of Dept. Officials to treat with us and once again we have had no trouble and have managed very well.9

This type of quiet diplomacy, or of what might be called bonne ententisme, prevailed in all three prairie provinces and is still practiced in Saskatchewan and Alberta where the francophone groups have no representation in the local legislatures.10 Significant, if not dramatic, changes have taken place since then. Beginning in the 19505, when the French language was reintroduced as an official subject taught at all levels, the rights claimed by western francophones in the field of education have gradually been enlarged. In Canada's centennial year, partly as a result of the mood generated by the Royal Commission on Bilingualism and Biculturalism and partly as a concession to the nationaliste agitation in French Canada, the governments of Manitoba and Saskatchewan passed legislation providing for the use of French as a language of instruction for a limited portion of the school day. In both cases, the legislation was permissive and no provision was made for support services, such as the preparation of course programs, the training of teachers, or the testing of students. Although the scope of French language education in Saskatchewan was broadened in a series of amendments, passed by its legislature between 1968 and 1973 and providing for the use of the French language for instructional purposes in so-called designated schools, only the government of Manitoba moved to place the French-speaking population on an equal footing with the English-speaking community in matters of education. Following the unanimous adoption of Bill 113 by Manitoba's legislators in 1970, the Bureau d'education fran9ais (BEF) within the Department of Education was established. With the appointment of an assistant deputy minister to

9 The Franco-Canadian communities of western Canada head the BEF in 1976, the Franco-Manitoban community found itself with the most elaborate educational infrastructure since 1890. Neither the Fransaskois nor the Franco-Albertan community has yet approximated the institutional recognition extended to their compatriots in Manitoba, although the Franco-Albertans learned in 1976 that French could now be used as a teaching language for up to 80 per cent of the school day. Thus far, education has been almost the only field in which western francophones could expect government support. In Manitoba, however, the Schreyer administration went two steps further and created the Centre culturel franco-manitobain, whose functions include the development of Franco-Manitoban culture as well as the dissemination of French culture to all parts of the province. The same government made provision in the 1971 City of Winnipeg Act, through which local municipalities were amalgamated, for the retention of bilingual services in the former city of St Boniface. The prairie governments have made no further concessions to the French fact in the west. None of them is inclined to introduce even limited bilingual services in the civil service or in the judicial system. Their disinclination to deal with the extension of the bilingual principle has been demonstrated in the past by the pronouncements of former premiers like Walter Weir of Manitoba or Ross Thatcher of Saskatchewan, and by the reluctance of the New Democratic Party (NDP) government in Manitoba to facilitate or expedite the challenge to the constitutionality of the 1890 official language legislation launched by Georges Forest, a St Boniface businessman.11 That the francophone groups in the west achieved even limited objectives is remarkable, given their weak political influence in Saskatchewan and Alberta. In Manitoba, under the Schreyer administration, the Franco-Manitobans fared somewhat better with two spokesmen in cabinet and the ear of a generally sympathetic NDP government. It is difficult to imagine how the provincial governments on the prairies could enlarge the rights of francophones without running into serious political difficulties with large sections of their respective electorates. Even the sympathetic former premier of Manitoba, Ed Schreyer, admits that he would be reluctant to see language rights recognized without consideration of cost and demand.12 The Franco-Manitoban leadership would prefer to see language and cultural rights entrenched as a matter of principle but wonders whether a paper victory would be meaningful. Most important is the need to revitalize the three francophone communities by strengthening their sense of

io Robert Painchaud identity and by using the institutional tools made available through changes in official government attitudes and policies since 1960. It can be expected, however, that efforts to prod both the federal and provincial governments into recognizing the 'special status' of these communities in confederation will continue.13 Institutional changes have also taken place within the French-speaking communities themselves, but it is still too early in some respects to assess their full implications. The most significant of these perhaps is the new relationship between the Roman Catholic Church and the francophone community. Thirty years ago, the parish, the local priest, the many religious orders involved in education and the presence of the French-speaking bishops provided an indispensable framework for the linguistic and cultural communities. Not only were church-related activities part and parcel of everyday life, but clerical men and women were found in the schools, in movements like the Girl Guides or Boy Scouts, in the management and editorial offices of La Liberte et le Patriote (serving Saskatchewan and Manitoba after the merger of 1941) or of La Survivance (serving Alberta), and in every other organization functioning within the three communities. This close integration of the church and Franco-Canadian groups was in the tradition of French Canadian society as a whole, and it had been instrumental in the establishment and growth of the French-speaking collectivities on the prairies since the 19th century.14 Declericalization took place at a rapid pace in the 19608, but not without strong opposition from those who held to the traditional ideology of conservatism, clericalism, and agrarianism.15 In 1964, the ACFC changed its name from the Association catholique to the Association culturelle francocanadienne de la Saskatchewan. At the same time, Franco-Manitobans were seriously divided over the relationship between language and faith, with the younger and rising elite rejecting the notion that they were inseparable.16 The emergence of a modernized Societe franco-manitobaine signalled the triumph of the new generation. Evidence of the appearance of a radically different ideology can be seen in the fact that French-speaking Catholics in Manitoba abandoned the struggle for publicly funded denominational schools. Instead, under the permissive education legislation introduced under the Roblin and Schreyer regimes, all former French language private schools have joined the public school system. Meanwhile, the Jesuits quit the classical colleges they had maintained in

ii The Franco-Canadian communities of western Canada St Boniface from 1885 to 1975 (which are now in the hands of a lay corporation) and in Edmonton from 1911 to 1972, and the Oblates only recently sold the College St-Jean to the University of Alberta and turned over the administration of the College Mathieu in Gravelbourg to a secular group. And, although statistics are not readily available, it is obvious that members of other religious orders have largely ceded their places in the education system to lay teachers. The same phenomenon was repeated in the case of the French weekly newspapers, with the result that La Liberte (Manitoba) and Le Franco-Albertain (Alberta) are semi-official organs of the SFM and AGFA respectively.17 Needless to say, these changes took place in the context of the formulation of a new ideology of surmvance based on language and culture within the framework of a bilingual country. Francophones in western Canada have not completely severed their ties with traditional institutions like the parish. These remain important in their lives, even though a complex set of circumstances has reduced the number of homogeneous French-speaking parishes. Cultural activities not related to or dependent on the church, however, have been introduced in a large number of smaller communities. These include choirs, theatre groups, travel associations, pensioners' groups, youth camps, and exchange programs with other regions of Canada. The Franco-Manitoban community has been most privileged in this respect because the creation of the Centre culturel francomanitobain in 1969, followed by the opening of its building in 1974, led to the development of a network of rural cultural committees acting together to provide a broader cultural experience for their fellow citizens and to utilize their human resources to the full. Further afield, the caisses populaires movement has been expanding steadily, although it has not developed into a tool for collective economic development. The shaping of new internal institutional structures is far from complete. There are serious growing pains, not the least of which is the problem of assured funding. None of the three communities appears to be in a position to generate enough money to ensure stability and continuity, especially to its cultural programs. Dependence on government is the order of the day, but the 1977-8 crisis involving the provincially owned Centre culturel francomanitobain illustrates the uncertainty of government views and priorities.18 Not even the revenues derived from the sale of the private French language radio stations - the moneys are managed by non-profit foundations which distribute the interest on the capital in the form of bursaries, research grants,

12 Robert Painchaud and support grants to community groups or the French language weeklies could support the wide range of services deemed necessary to nurture an enriching cultural milieu. Gone forever are the days of clerical self-sacrifice in the name of le peuple. In conclusion, the institutional framework of the francophone communities in the west has undergone fundamental changes over the past fifteen years. A favourable measure of recognition by the federal and provincial governments has contributed significantly, although not without bringing serious problems, to more secure institutional tools in education, communications, and community work. At the same time, new community institutions have emerged to complement, if not replace, the church as the bulwark of the French fact on the Prairies. Whether the new structures put in place by the modern elite will help provide the francophone population with an ideology of French survivance based on the value and merits of belonging to one of Canada's 'charter groups' remains to be seen. Thus, in the final analysis, the 'plight' of western francophone groups may well be just as related to the deficiencies of the internal institutions built up by the new elite as to the tardiness and hesitation of the federal and provincial governments to provide external institutions.

II Notwithstanding the provision of original or renewed institutions, there have been in the past as there are in the present doubts about the continued vitality of the Franco-Canadian collectivities, and indeed about their capacity to resist the forces of assimilation and internal disintegration. For many, the doubts have become firm beliefs, founded on an analysis of demographic trends, signs of weariness and dissension within the communities themselves, and, inevitably, on the conviction that an anti-French 'backlash' renders the survivance of the French fact in the west hopeless. Yet, we may properly ask whether the present situation is any more desperate than it was thirty years ago. Expressions of concern about the vitality of the francophone communities abound. They range from Rene Levesque's reference a decade ago to 'dead ducks,' to the FFHQ'S sobering manifesto on the pitiful condition of francophones residing in provinces other than Quebec as portrayed in Les heritiers de lord Durham, to the 1977 National Film Board documentary

13 The Franco-Canadian communities of western Canada TABLE i Francophones in western provinces as shown in 1971 census

Province Manitoba Saskatchewan Alberta British Columbia Total

Ethnic origin

Maternal tongue

French language in daily use

Number Percentage of of French population

Number Percentage reporting of population French

Number Percentage of of French population

86,515 8.8 56,200 6.1 94,665 5.8

60,545 31,605 46,500

6.1 34

96,550

44

333,930

5.8

3-9

2.8

39,600 15,930 22,700

38,035

1.8

11,505

0.5

176,685

3.!

89,735

1.6

1-7 14

produced by Franco-Manitoban Raymond Gauthier, and simply titled 'le Manitoba ne repond plus ...' Even a quick reading of La Liberte or Le Franco-Albertain reveals a vocabulary of anxiety and despair. Newspapers and periodicals running articles on the French-speaking communities of the west title them 'Endangered species - Has history caught up with FrancoManitoba?' (Maclean's) or 'Saint-Boniface ou le reve ratatine' (L'Actualite).19 Admittedly it is difficult to find similar headlines in the 19408, but there was little interest then in the francophone minorities and the French language weeklies in the west tended to emphasize the positive aspects of the French fact. Yet the demographic evidence appears overwhelming. The studies of Father Richard Ares, Jacques Henripin, and Richard Joy are well known.20 All point to the loss of the mother tongue and to the accelerating rate of assimilation resulting from urbanization. The 1961 census showed that the discrepancies between those of French origin and those of French maternal tongue were getting wider. But the results of the 1971 census proved even more discouraging: the number of francophones using French in their everyday life was significantly less than half of those claiming French as their maternal tongue (see table i). For Father Ares, this situation adds up to 'linguistic and cultural genocide.'21 Put another way, these statistics reveal an assimilation rate of 34.6 per cent in Manitoba, 49.6 per cent in Saskatche-

14 Robert Painchaud wan, and 51.2 per cent in Alberta.22 To compound this state of affairs, studies show that the French fact is even vulnerable in the rural areas, that the rate of exogamy is mounting, and that the francophone population is below the provincial averages with respect to educational attainment and personal income.23 The conclusion appears to be that a francophone in western Canada today is a member of a dying breed. What is significant is that no one questions the accuracy of the stark statement of reality. Indeed, there is agreement on the deterioration of the French-speaking communities over the past two or three decades. Mgr Maurice Baudoux, former bishop of St Paul, Aha, and former archbishop of St Boniface, observed in 1975 that there had taken place Taffaiblissement, voire Taneantissement d'une veritable appartenance a la communaute canadienne-franfaise.' He ascribed it in part to factors that have always been present within the western francophone community: its geographical isolation from Quebec, its scattering across the prairies, and its submersion in a heterogeneous milieu; but he also pointed to the disastrous consequences of larger school divisions and to the phenomenon of 'la depersonnalisation culturelle.'24 Thus, there appear to be two sets of factors to explain the decline of French-speaking communities since 1945. Causes beyond the control of these collectivities include the growing estrangement between them and Quebec, the impact of such governmental reforms as the introduction of new school units which have virtually ended the possibility of francophones gaining control of education boards, and the outward migration of many potential leaders of the three communities. The most important internal factors appear to be a loss of collective identity, general apathy and indifference, and apparently divisive disputes over the best course of action for the future, especially in the field of education. In the latter case, francophones across the prairies have been debating the merits of an all-French education versus a half-French and half-English course of studies. It is impossible to examine the ramifications and implications of each of these factors in this paper. Suffice it to say, however, that the combination of internal and external forces shaped the individual and collective identity of western francophones. All the historian is left to wonder about is the extent to which another set of circumstances would have produced different results. What, for example, would have been the result had French language education been a 'normal' part of everyday life in western Canada? Or again, has

15 The Franco-Canadian communities of western Canada French language television come too late for most francophone children on the prairies? These questions will never be answered, but they provide intriguing insights into the mechanisms required for the survival of a linguistic and cultural group. Ultimately, people of French-speaking origin living in western Canada either remained attached to their language and culture, or lost contact with them. For most, it was not a matter of choice. Circumstances allowed the retention of ties with the French-speaking community, or were such that people unconsciously drifted into a totally different community. For the new generation of leaders, there should at least be the possibility of choice. They insist, therefore, on providing as many opportunities as possible for young francophones to come into full contact with the French fact so that the forces pulling them towards the predominantly anglophone world, are balanced by strengthened maternal ties. French education, radio and television services, boites a chansons, exchange programs, and a host of other projects are all intended to counteract the attractions of the Anglo-American way of life. in

What then does the history of the French-speaking communities of western Canada since 1945 tell us about their future? First, it shows us that a mini Quiet Revolution has taken place in the west. Like their Quebec compatriots, western Franco-Canadians have been reassessing themselves as a community. The elites have changed, and along with them the strategies for survivance. The church no longer occupies as prominent a place as it once did, either as a raison d'etre for the retention of the francophone identity or as the leader of the collectivities. Unlike the Quebecois, however, western francophones could not expect to use the powers of the state to fashion a new society, at least not directly. Their inability to manipulate the levers of power has forced them to lobby at the federal and provincial levels to obtain the co-operation of governments in their rebuilding task. Conflicts inevitably followed the tension generated in this process, and they can be expected to recur. Secondly, the manifest interest of both levels of government in the cause of the French-speaking communities led to the introduction of institutional reforms designed to provide a new framework for the three collectivities. Yet, paradoxically, at the time that hope for a better future loomed over the

16 Robert Painchaud horizon, the French-speaking communities were registering their greatest losses ever. Only time will tell whether the sudden intervention of government was not too late. Thirdly, it must be borne in mind that some things have not changed within the western context and that nothing can be done about them. The distribution of francophone communities across the prairies is the result of choices made over half a century ago, and the lack of homogeneity is no one's fault. The result, however, is that the grouping of francophones for purposes of providing them with education or telecommunications services has proven extremely difficult. Similarly, the almost total lack of direct political influence, especially in Saskatchewan and Alberta, is a product of history. Naturally, the consequences of this state of affairs have been important and were offset only by the successful recourse to quiet diplomacy. It appears as though this pattern will continue in Saskatchewan and Alberta, while in Manitoba there have been clear indications over the past few years that open, public confrontations should be mixed with private discussions. Lastly, although there is no denying the alarming evidence of erosion found in the 1971 census, the prophets of doom should wait until data from the next census either confirm or temper the trends apparent in the last census. Only then will we know whether the reforms of the 19708 slowed the rate of assimilation or whether they were totally ineffectual. In the final analysis, there is sufficient cause to talk of the 'plight' of the French-speaking communities in the west. And one is left to ponder the possibility that the renaissance manifest in the chansonniers, theatre groups, publishing houses, playwrights, and young activists of the 19708, all of whom dwell on the theme of the impossible dream of a vibrant French fact in the Canadian west, is merely the signal of the impending end of an experiment. NOTES I Nationalise historians, like Abbe Lionel Groulx, Michel Brunei, Robert Rumilly, and others, have argued that there existed among the Anglo-Saxon political leadership in Ottawa the desire to limit the French fact to the province of Quebec. Thus, little encouragement would be given to the movement of French-speaking people, from Quebec or Europe, to western Canada. The present writer believes that this conventional wisdom has gone unchallenged too long, and hopes to present a revisionist

17 The Franco-Canadian communities of western Canada

2 3

4 5

6

7

8 9

10 11

12 13

paper at the June 1978 meeting of the Canadian Historical Association as well as a historiographical analysis of Quebec-western francophone issues at the annual meeting of the Institut d'histoire de VAmerique franc,aise later this year. See Prime Minister Trudeau's statement to the House of Commons, 8 Oct. 1971. Secretaire-generale [Yolande Gendron] a W.L. McKenzie King et Louis St-Laurent, St-Boniface, 18 septembre 1945; Louis St-Laurent, ministre de la Justice, a J.-A. Marion, president de I'AECFM, Personnelle, Ottawa, ler octobre 1945, 'Correspondance Gouvernement Federal'; Fonds de I'AECFM, Archives de la Societe historique de Saint-Boniface. See Rossel Vien, Radio fran$aise dans I'Ouest (Montreal 1977), 93 and passim. Association culturelle franco-canadienne de la Saskatchewan, 'Le plan d'action,' in La Federation des francophones hors Quebec (FFHQ), Les heritiers de lord Durham, 2 vols. (n.p. 1975), n: 9. La Liberte^ 5 juillet 1972. For a discussion of the role of the federal government in the development of the French-speaking minorities, see Richard Ares, Qui /era I'avenir des minorites francophones au Canada? (Saint Boniface: La Societe Historique de Saint-Boniface 1972). See C'est le temps ou jamais ..., Rapport du Groupe de travail sur les minorites de langue fran9aise presente au Secretaire d'Etat le 7 novembre 1975, 16; see also, FFHQ, Les heritiers de lord Durham, passim. FFHQ, Les heritiers de lord Durham, n: 18. 'Causeries radiophoniques,' Memorandum presente a 1'Hon. Garson le 26 avril 1943, Archives de la Societe historique de Saint-Boniface, Fonds Antoine d'Eschambault. A note on the memorandum reads as follows: 'II a repondu en disant qu'il trouvait notre attitude raisonnable et n'avait pas 1'intention d'intervenir ni changer quoi que ce soit au moins dans les grandes lignes.' For a further discussion of the relations between the government and the AECFM in Manitoba, see Paul-Emile Leblanc, 'Le statut de la langue fran£aise comme langue d'enseignement au Manitoba de 1916 a nos jours' (unpublished MA thesis, University of Ottawa 1969). See FFHQ, Les heritiers de lord Durham, n. The Forest case has attracted a great deal of attention across Canada because of the implications it could have on Quebec's Bill 101. Oddly enough, Franco-Manitobans are divided on the wisdom of Forest's challenge. See Robert Painchaud, 'Des francomanitobains tirailles ...,' Perception i, no.2 (1977): 15-17. (Ed. note. The Supreme Court of Canada decided in favour of Forest in 1980.) Statement made before the Task Force on National Unity in Winnipeg, 20 Jan. 1978. This was the point made by the SFM in its 'Memoire de la Societe francomanitobaine presente au Groupe de travail sur les minorites de langue francaise,' le 30 septembre 1975, passim. One proposal is that the francophone communities outside Quebec have a clear line of communication into the highest decision-making bodies at the federal level; another favours the extension of a 'special status' through the immediate implementation of the proposals put forward by the now-defunct Bilingual Districts commission.

18 Robert Painchaud 14 There is as yet no historical survey of the French-speaking groups of western Canada. Those wishing to study the development of these communities should consult Lionel Dorge, Introduction a Tetude des franco-manitobains (Saint-Boniface: La Societe Historique de Saint-Boniface 1973). See also Denise Stocco, 'Approche historique des franco-albertains,' in College Saint-Jean, Ecole bilingue on unilingue pour les franco-albertains? (College universitaire St-Jean 1974). 15 See Raymond Hebert and Jean-Guy Vaillancourt, 'French Canadians in Manitoba: elites and ideologies,' in Jean Leonard Elliott, ed., Immigrant groups - minority Canadians 2 (Scarborough 1971), 175-90. 16 Ibid. 17 In Saskatchewan, the community decided in 1971 to sever its ties with La Liberte et le Patriote because of the feeling that it was not sufficiently responsive to its needs. In its place, the ACFC launched L'eau vive in 1971 but was forced to cease its publication in December 1976 because of financial and personnnel difficulties. 18 See La Liberte for the months of December 1977 and January 1978 for an account of this conflict. After failing to obtain supplementary funds for its programs, the board of the Centre culturel franco-manitobain resigned effective 31 December 1977. Since then, the provincial government has taken over supervisory functions while attempting to form a new board. 19 Maclean's 18 Apr. 1977; L'Actualite, aout 1977. 20 Richard Ares, Les positions ethniques, linguistiques et religieuses des Canadiens-frangais a la suite du recensement de 1971 (Montreal 1975); Jacques Henripin, L'immigration et le desiquilibre linguistique (n.p. n.d.); Richard Joy, Languages in conflict (Toronto 1972). 21 Richard Ares, Les positions ethniques, 96. 22 FFHQ, Les heritiers de lord Durham, i: 24. 23 Ibid., i: 19-43, passim. 24 Maurice Baudoux, 'Les franco-canadiens de 1'Ouest: constitutifs d'une societe francophone canadienne,' in Royal Society of Canada, Transactions xm, 4th ser. (1975): 141-9.

GEORGE F.G. STANLEY

The flowering of the Acadian renaissance

The Acadians are the French-speaking people of Canada whose forbears settled in what today is Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Prince Edward Island. They do not constitute a large segment of the Canadian population. But they have played a dramatic role in our history and, despite their small numbers, they will play a vital role in the future of the Canadian confederation. A stubborn, courageous, tenacious people, they have survived the vicissitudes of the past, and have overcome the hostility and indifference of the near-present, by their determination and their will to live. In many ways they are myth become reality.

I The first group of European French to establish a colony in what is now Canada arrived in the summer of 1604 under the Sieur de Monts. After a miserable winter spent on a bleak island in the St Croix River, they established themselves on the shore of the Annapolis Basin in Nova Scotia. Here, in the summer of 1605, began the colony which became the principal centre of French settlement in Acadie under the name of Port Royal.1 The settlers of 1605 were not the progenitors of the Acadians of the present day. Neither were those who were attracted to Port Royal by Jean de Biencourt de Poutrincourt, to whom de Monts gave the region around the Annapolis Basin, or by his son Charles de Biencourt. Within a few years these early settlers were displaced by Sir William Alexander's Scots, when Acadie and Canada fell victim to British arms in 1628.

20 George F.G. Stanley Four years later, however, Canada and Acadie were both returned to France by the treaty of Saint-Germain-en-Laye. Isaac de Razilly, the agent of the Company of New France, not only carried the Scots back to Great Britain, but also landed a boatload of French settlers at La Heve. These people, mostly from the west coast of France south of the Loire, Poitou, Aunis, and Saintonge, were the fathers of Canada's Acadian population. Coming not from Brittany and Normandy, like the French Canadians, but from the southern coastal region of France, where vast areas of marshland were protected from eroding sea by artificial dikes, the new settlers felt very much at home in the marsh areas of Port Royal and the upper regions of the Bay of Fundy. They kept to the shoreline and made no effort to settle the uplands and, when they did move, they chose other marshland areas, including Grand Pre, the Minas Basin, and Beaubassin. Some settlers went to Cape Breton, others to Canso, Cape Sable, Port Rossignol, others to the valleys of the Memramcook, Petitcodiac, or Shepody, and to the mouth of the St John River. Some of these Acadian colonies were no more than trading posts; others were merely fishing stations. The principal areas of agricultural settlement remained the tidal salt marshes at Port Royal, Minas, and Beaubassin. Acadie grew slowly, much more slowly than its Canadian counterpart in the St Lawrence valley. Some colonists were sent to Acadie after the 16305: a few soldiers for the defence of Port Royal; a few artisans looking for work; a few women looking for husbands. But because there was no general organized immigration to Acadie, it is still possible to identify Acadians today, in the United States and in Canada, by their family names. There were comparatively few of them. Dugas, Gaudet, Landry, and Aucoin were among the earliest arrivals. Arsenault, Comeau, Cormier, Boudreau, Gallant, Legere, LeBlanc, Robichaud, Theriault, and others are equally familiar names. Genevieve Massignon says there are seventy-six Acadian family names and that the forty-two families who came prior to 1671 are the progenitors of two-thirds of the Acadian population of today.2 The date of the first census, 1671, is important to the historian as well as to the genealogist. Four hundred people constituted the population of Acadie, of whom 375 were located in Nova Scotia, mostly in and around Port Royal and along the Annapolis River. In all probability the census missed some of the fishermen and traders in more remote parts of the colony, but one can reasonably assume that the total figure did not exceed 500. Perrot's census,

21 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance fifteen years later, was more exact. It recorded 583 in Port Royal (including 30 soldiers), 127 at Beaubassin, 57 at Minas, 26 at lie Perce, and little groups at Cape Sable, La Heve, Chedabucto, St John River, St Croix, Machias, Pentagouet, Nipisiguit, and Miramichi, making a total of 875. In 1703 the census revealed that Port Royal had declined to 504, but Minas (including Pisiquid and Cobequid) had grown to 527, and Beaubassin to 246, for a total of 1,277 in the three main agricultural settlements. There were about 1,400 to 1,450 in all Acadie. In 1710, the year prior to the surrender of Port Royal to Colonel Francis Nicholson, the population of Acadie was estimated to be 2,000.3 The treaty of Utrecht in 1713, by which Great Britain acquired the area from France, brought about no immediate or drastic disruption of the Acadian style of life. The population continued to increase, although the greatest growth took place not in the old centre at Port Royal (renamed Annapolis Royal), but in the settlements along Minas Basin and the Chignecto Isthmus. New settlements on the Memramcook and Petitcodiac rivers also grew in numbers. In the absence of the type of census so familiar in the French regime, it is difficult to give an accurate estimate of the strength of the Acadian colonies, but the generally accepted view is that, by the mid-eighteenth century, the Acadians in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick numbered about 10,000 (1,750 in Annapolis Royal, 5,000 in the Minas Basin settlements, i,600 in the Chignecto settlements, and 1,200 in Memramcook and related areas). If we include the Acadians on lie Saint-Jean (Prince Edward Island) and lie Royale (Cape Breton), the whole population amounted to about I2,500.4 The significance of this brief demographic history cannot be overestimated. The relative isolation of the Acadian population, both from France and Canada, prior to the treaty of Utrecht, and their complete isolation after the introduction of British rule in Nova Scotia, forced Acadians to look to themselves, both for their mates and for their thoughts. There was no strengthening immigration from France, or from Canada, and little mixing with the English and American Protestants. The Acadian population grew, not by reinforcements from outside the community, but by intermarriage within the group.5 This meant, of course, genetic inbreeding - a fact which is substantiated by the number of dispensations granted by the church for marriage within the forbidden bounds of consanguinity. Is it surprising, then, that the Acadians developed a strong sense of kinship, a kind of clan rela-

22 George F.G. Stanley tionship not unlike that found in the Highlands of Scotland, although that kinship lacked the feudal character of the Scottish clan? Is it surprising that the Acadians, from an early period, saw themselves as a distinct people, different from those around them, and different, too, from the French of France and the French of Quebec? It is this clan sense of identity which explains, in part at least, why the Acadians could not identify themselves with the politics of the British and the Americans and why they were reluctant to abandon Nova Scotia after the treaty of Utrecht either to seek refuge with the Canadians in Quebec or move to the new French colony on lie Royale. It explains why they clung so tenaciously to their lands, and had to be driven by Le Loutre to cross the Missaguash from Beaubassin into what later became known as New Brunswick. What they did identify with was the land which had been settled by their forefathers. Acadie was their homeland, not France or Canada. They would stay there. And when they were finally driven out by Lawrence's soldiers in 1755, they struggled for over a generation to return.6

II It was the misfortune of the Acadians that, from the outset of their establishment in North America, they were caught in the cross-fire of British and French imperial rivalries. Geography separated them from their natural allies, the French Canadians, living along the banks of the St Lawrence River; geography also made the region in which they lived an extension of the shores of New England. While winter snow and ice closed all communication between Acadie and Canada, the open sea provided easy access to Boston, winter and summer alike. Politically Acadie was more vital to France than to Great Britain. Acadie in French hands posed no real threat to the growth and development of New England, but Acadie in English hands was a threat to France's vital link with Canada. English control of Acadie and Newfoundland at one and the same time would ultimately bring about the exclusion of France from North America.7 Aside from the economics of the situation, political and military strategy determined Acadie's role as the battlefield between Great Britain and France during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The acquisition of Acadie in 1713 presented the British authorities with two serious problems: to determine exactly what were the boundaries of

23 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance Acadie, and what was to be done about the Acadians. For the first forty years not much was done about either. The Missaguash River, part of the present boundary between New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, was accepted as a temporary frontier pending the conclusion of negotiations in Europe, and the British administrators at Annapolis Royal allowed the Acadians to remain unmolested upon their lands. On several occasions attempts were made to persuade the new subjects to take an unqualified oath of allegiance to the British crown, but when they demurred the matter was not pressed.8 Then came the renewal of the war between Great Britain and France, followed by the capture of Louisbourg in 1745 and its return by the treaty of Aix-laChapelle in 1748, the establishment of Halifax in 1749, and the appointment of a strong-minded governor, Charles Lawrence, in 1753. The relaxed atmosphere of the earlier period disappeared. Nova Scotia ceased to be an Acadian colony governed by an easy-going, if not indifferent, British administration; it was on its way to becoming an Anglo-American colony under an anti-French governor. Thus was the way prepared for the expulsion of 1755, the grand derangement. How many bewildered Acadians were expelled from their homeland can only be guessed at - over 6,000, perhaps more.9 Most of the deportees were sent to Great Britain's American colonies, the majority to Massachusetts, Maryland, and Virginia, smaller groups to New York, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, and Georgia. Some escaped to what is now New Brunswick, to lie Royale and lie Saint-Jean, only to be rounded up later. A few fled to Canada to establish homes near Quebec, Trois-Rivieres, and Montreal. Others made their way to Saint-Pierre and Miquelon. Generally speaking, they were not welcome guests, particularly in the Thirteen Colonies. Virginia packed her contingent off to England, Massachusetts protested against the policy of dumping Acadians in that colony, and Lawrence begged New York not to send its quota back to Nova Scotia. Like the wandering Jew, the Acadians seemed to be forever on the move.10 Some Acadians tried, almost at once, to return to their former homes; some drifted to the Caribbean, and some to France. But France had little interest in them and thought about settling them in Corsica and French Guiana. Only Spain really wanted them; Spain was looking for colonists to people Louisiana, which it had acquired from France in 1762. Then, in 1764, the Lords of Trade informed Governor Wilmot that the Acadians might be allowed once more to settle in Nova Scotia. They could not, of course, return to their old

24 George F.G. Stanley lands on the Bay of Fundy; these had been grabbed by the New Englanders. They had, therefore, to find new homes, in Cape Breton at Cheticamp, Grand-Etang, Margaree Harbour, Ardoise, and Arichat, at Havre Boucher and Tracadie along the north shore of Nova Scotia, and Pointe-de-1'Eglise (Church Point), Saulnierville, Meteghan, Ste Anne du Ruisseau, Surette Island, and West Pubnico along the south shore; Tignish, Malpeque, Rustico, Mont Carmel, and Miscouche in Prince Edward Island; Memramcook, Shediac, Cocagne, Bouctouche, Richibucto in Westmorland and Kent counties in New Brunswick; Tracadie, Caraquet, Bathurst, Restigouche, and Madawaska in northern New Brunswick; Gaspe, Carleton, Cascapedia, Bonaventure, Matapedia, and Paspebiac along the Baie des Chaleurs in Quebec. in

By 1800, for the first time since 1613, the Acadians were free to develop a self-contained, agricultural life, secure from the vagaries of international politics. They were settled, some 8,400 of them, if not on their original farmlands, at least in areas where they were not likely to be disturbed. The Nova Scotian government showed no disposition to try to assimilate them into the life of the province, or even to appoint magistrates among them. From experience, they knew that, with the exception of Louisiana, nobody really wanted them. In Quebec, rapid absorption into the French community awaited them. That had been the fate of the refugees who had fled there a generation earlier, and Nova Scotian indifference was better than Quebec assimilation. They had lost none of their independence or cohesion as a result of their travels, and they did not want to travel again. But could they be certain they would not have to do so? Admittedly they were putting down roots once again in the soil of their fathers. They had their own language. They had their own clergy. But would it always remain that way - particularly after the migration into the Maritimes of large numbers of Anglo-American refugees from the American revolution, Scottish refugees from the Highland clearances, and the starving thousands from Ireland? The Acadians, secure in their own parishes, living and letting live, may not have felt any implied threat in what was happening, but their clergy felt it. The French-speaking clergy therefore took over the leadership of the Acadian parishes and provided a spiritual strength to bolster the Acadian sense

25 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance of community, giving it form and meaning. Physical isolation could be no sure protection to the Acadian communities, but the faith would be. Hence, during the nineteenth century and into the twentieth, Acadian identity, which had survived the wars and expulsion of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, was given a real sense of purpose by the Roman Catholic Church. God and the nation, culture and the land would be Acadie's sure defence, just as they were in Quebec. From the beginning the church played an important role in Acadie. Secular priests came to the colony as early as 1604 and 1610. Two Jesuits arrived with Poutrincourt in 1611 and the Recollets came in 1619. The Capuchins began their work in 1632, establishing missions at La Heve, Port Royal, and even as far away as the Baie des Chaleurs. In 1688 the bishop of Quebec, Mgr Saint-Vallier, paid a pastoral visit to Acadie. With him came several Sulpicians who took over the missions at Port Royal, Grand Pre, and Beaubassin. Most missionary efforts were directed towards the Indians, but this did not mean that the Acadians were neglected. It meant simply that the main thrust of missionary activity was towards winning new converts for Christ. In any event the Acadians were disposed to show the same independence towards the clergy that they displayed towards the civil authorities. No priest-ridden people they - certainly this is the conclusion that one would draw from the circular distributed to the Acadian clergy in 1742 by the bishop of Quebec.11 The expulsion of 1755 halted most of the activities of the Catholic clergy among the Acadians in the Maritimes. During the next few years those Acadians remaining carried on with the help of the 'anciens' of the parish, old men who were authorised to say a 'white mass,' and even to perform the sacrament of marriage in the absence of duly ordained priests.12 The barren period did not, however, last long. In the 17605 priests returned to the Maritime mission field, among them Abbe Bailly. Others followed, notably Abbe Mathurin Bourg, who covered the region between the Baie des Chaleurs and Minudie, Nova Scotia. Between 1780 and 1800 new parishes were established in the now stabilised Acadian settlements. Some of the new missionaries, Messires Castanet and Desjardins, for example, were refugees from the revolution in France. All of this missionary activity was under the direction of the bishop of Quebec, and pastoral visits from Mgr Denault in 1804 and Mgr Plessis kept the church authorities informed of the progress of Catholic action in the old Acadian regions.13

26 George F.G. Stanley Although responsibility for the supervision and administration of the various missions in Acadie had traditionally rested with the bishop of Quebec, when the first apostolic vicariate was formed in the Maritimes in 1817, it was entrusted to an Irishman, the Reverend Edmund Burke, who became bishop of Zion inpartibus infidelium. Twelve years later, another apostolic vicariate, including the Magdalen Islands, Gaspesie, Prince Edward Island, Cape Breton, and New Brunswick, was placed under the administration of the Scot, Bernard Angus MacEachern, who became first bishop of Charlottetown. In 1842 Halifax and Saint John became seats of bishoprics, followed in 1844 by Antigonish and in 1860 by Chatham. In each of these dioceses there were Acadian parishoners; over none of them presided an Acadian, or even a francophone bishop.14 It was only after a long and arduous battle, filled with racial recriminations, intrigues, and appeals to Rome by Acadian clergy and laymen alike, that the Acadians were accorded a bishop of their own descent: Edward LeBlanc, who was appointed to the see of Saint John in I9I2. 15 The first step taken, others followed. In 1920 Patrice-Alexandre Chiasson was appointed to Chatham and in 1938 the bishop's headquarters were moved to Bathurst. About the same time new French language dioceses were established: Moncton in 1936 (Alfred Melanson), Edmundston in 1944 (Marie-Antoine Roy), and Yarmouth in 1952 (Albert Lemenager). It is hard to understand why it took so long for the Acadians to secure recognition in the higher echelons of the Catholic Church in the Maritimes. Such recognition had to come as a matter of justice to a people whose numbers had increased to 350,000 by 1961 and whose loyalty was unquestioned.16 During the nineteenth century, the role of the church in shaping Acadian life was paramount. Education had, of course, always been the handmaiden of theology, and from the outset of Acadian history, the church had directed its efforts towards the establishment of schools and colleges. A seminary was established by the Capuchins at La Heve as early as 1632, predating the Jesuit college at Quebec and Harvard College in Massachusetts. The seminary moved to Port Royal in 1635. In J643 twelve students were in attendance.17 The seminary, however, soon closed its doors, but other schools were opened at Saint-Jean in 1645 anc* Nipisiguit in 1648. Female education was the responsibility of the sisters of the Congregation of NotreDame. None of these schools survived the Anglo-American invasions of the end of the century. As the Acadians re-established themselves after the expulsion, the clergy returned to the task of founding schools. The Abbe

27 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance Sigogne commenced a school at Pointe-de-1'Eglise in Nova Scotia, the Abbe Legarde opened a school at Saint-Basile in New Brunswick, and the Abbe Beaulieu started one at Rustico on Prince Edward Island. These are simply a few examples of what was happening throughout the Acadian settlements in the early part of the nineteenth century. Admittedly these schools only provided education of a rudimentary character, but that was true of practically all the schools in the Maritimes at this time, whether the language of instruction was French or English. During the first third of the century there were in New Brunswick for instance, no school inspectors, no superintendents of education, no central direction of educational policy.18 With the development of provincially sponsored primary schools, the need for educational facilities at the college level became apparent, if only to cater to and produce a provincial elite. The Anglicans were first in the field with their colleges at Fredericton and Windsor, followed by the Baptists (Horton Academy, later Acadia), Presbyterians (Pictou Academy), Methodists (Mount Allison), the Irish (St Mary's) and Scottish Roman Catholics (St Francis Xavier). All of these colleges were English language institutions. Bishop Denaut of Quebec had contemplated a French language college for the Acadians at Memramcook, but it was not until 1854 that the Reverend Francois-Xavier Lafrance took up where Mgr Denaut had left off. The new college, however, did not prosper until it came under the direction of Father Lefebvre and the priests of the Community of the Holy Cross.19 The college, named after St Joseph, subsequently acquired university status by provincial statute, and over the next half century furnished the Acadian people with an educated professional elite from which it drew most of its political leaders. In the course of time Universite Saint-Joseph was joined by other French language colleges, including those at Pointe-de-1'Eglise (1890), Bathurst (1899, 1916), and Edmundston (1946).20 Finally, in 1963 Saint-Joseph moved to Moncton to become the Universite de Moncton, an institution which is today the intellectual centre of Acadie.21 IV

Having re-established themselves in their old homeland, the Acadians were now free to return to their next problem, that of their own self-awareness. With the second part of the nineteenth century we enter upon what is usually referred to as the 'Acadian renaissance.5 During this period a national

28 George F.G. Stanley organization was set up, through which Acadians might express their collective identity, and special symbols were selected which would be a visible affirmation of their inward and spiritual ambitions. In part, the Acadian renaissance may be linked with the publication in 1847, m the United States, of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's celebrated poem Evangeline. The poem is not, and never was intended to be, a recital of historical facts. It is easy to play down the significance of the poem as Acadian history; it is much more difficult to play it down as a factor shaping Acadian history.22 The poem elicited a strong emotional response among the Acadians. Perhaps more than anything else, it convinced Acadians that they belonged to a people with an ethic and an identity of its own. They were, in fact, a distinct people with their own distinctive history. But Longfellow was not the sole father of the Acadian renaissance. There were others, graduates of the College Saint-Joseph, notably Pierre Landry and Pascal Poirier, who made names for themselves in politics and literature both inside and beyond the boundaries of Acadie.23 Inspiration for the Acadians came too from Quebec, where Ludger Duvernay and George-Etienne Carder had organized in Montreal in 1834 a national French Canadian society, the Societe Saint-Jean-Baptiste, to promote and to defend the institutions of Frenchspeaking people all over North America. In 1842 a branch was established in Quebec City. Whether the impetus came from the United States, or from Quebec, or from Memramcook, or simply from a desire to thwart the Irish who had taken control of the Catholic hierarchy in the Maritimes, the Acadians began, in the second part of the nineteenth century, to assert themselves in a positive rather than a negative way. And directing and animating them were the Acadian clergy. Without their assistance, blessing, and guidance, it is doubtful the movement towards Acadian self-definition would have enjoyed the success it did. In 1880 the Societe Saint-Jean-Baptiste invited all French-speaking communities in North America to attend a congress in Quebec. Some fortyone Acadians accepted the invitation, and took part in the deliberations. So impressed were they with what they saw, that they resolved to hold a similar gathering for Acadians in Memramcook. On 20-21 July 1881, over 5,000 Acadians from all parts of the Maritimes met at the College Saint-Joseph. A great deal of genealogical information was exchanged, but far more important were the debates on Acadian symbolism. The Acadian clergy proposed

29 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance the adoption of 15 August, the feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin, as the national day for Acadians. Others, including Pierre Landry who had attended the Quebec congress, favoured 24 June, Saint-Jean-Baptiste day, the national holiday of the French Canadians. Landry felt that Acadians should demonstrate their solidarity with French Canada. When the issue was put to a vote, a resounding majority accepted 15 August. Among those who spoke out strongly for Assumption Day was the young Acadian priest, Stanislas Doucet. To him it was essential that Acadians emphasize their distinctiveness, their identity as a people separate and culturally different from the people of Quebec.24 In this he was supported by the Abbe Giroir, the first Acadian from Nova Scotia to be ordained to the priesthood. Among the laymen who backed the two priests were Pascal Poirier and Urbain Johnson. The Memramcook congress also chose the Blessed Virgin as the patron saint of Acadie and instructed the Abbe Franfois-Marie Richard to prepare a design for a national flag. At the second congress at Miscouche, Prince Edward Island, the Acadians adopted the French tricolour with the gold star as their national flag, and the 'Ave Stella Maris' as their national hymn. The success of the early conventions led to others: at Pointe-de-1'Eglise in Nova Scotia in 1890, at Arichat (Cape Breton) in 1900, at Caraquet in New Brunswick in 1905, at Saint-Basile in Madawaska County in 1908. These gatherings were organized by the Societe nationale I'Assomption which had been formed as a kind of Acadian national secretariat after the congress at Memramcook. Under the direction and impetus provided by this body, conventions were held regularly until 1937. Meanwhile, in 1903, at Waltham, Massachusetts, an insurance company bearing the name Societe mutuelle TAssomption had been organized by Acadians living in the United States. In 1905 officials of the Nationale and the Mutuelle began to collaborate with each other, and, while remaining separate entities, worked hand in glove during the years that followed. This kind of co-operation was facilitated by the move of the Mutuelle's offices to Moncton in 1913.25 From the various conventions sponsored by the Nationale, two things stand out as of particular historical significance. In the first place, the various congresses provided the Acadians with a sounding board. They provided an opportunity for Acadians to express, as a collectivity, their feelings and attitudes on matters of importance to them: education, publishing, the need for an Acadian bishop, the establishment of a historic park at Grand Pre. In the

30 George F.G. Stanley second place, the conventions enabled the clergy to keep the general direction of the national movement in their own hands. Each meeting began with a solemn high mass, and laymen and clergy alike talked in terms of the firm alliance of the nation and the faith. And this alliance was undoubtedly to the benefit of the national cause; at that period of history, the priest, rather than the politician, held the confidence of the farmers and fishermen of Acadie. The priests were close to the people in their everyday contact with the faithful. And they also held the keys to the gates of heaven.26 V

For the first twenty years of the nineteenth century there were, in fact, no Acadian political leaders. The Acadians did not vote. And when they did, as happened in Westmorland County in 1785, the election was annulled. In 1796, Pierre Duperre and nineteen others in Madawaska protested their good faith and their loyalty to King George in and asked for the franchise, but their request was rejected.27 The religious oaths imposed by the Test Act, passed in England in 1673 to keep Roman Catholics out of political office, and modified as far as Canada was concerned by the Quebec Act in 1774, were still in effect in the Maritime provinces. But the oaths were not always rigorously applied. From 1727 onwards in England, annual indemnity bills were passed to 'indemnify' those who had 'forgotten,' or neglected to take the Anglican communion before accepting office. Hence there was no difficulty about Acadians accepting commissions in the armed services. In the 17908 Oliver Cyr became the first Acadian to receive a militia commission in Madawaska.28 The same seems to have applied to magistrates. Otho Robichaud served as Indian interpreter and became a justice of the peace in 1796. Joseph Guegen (Goguen) of Cocagne became a justice of the peace in 1800, apparently because he was the only educated person in the region of whom the government had any knowledge.29 The religious tests for the assembly, however, were applied in the Maritime provinces until the repeal of the Test Act in 1828. Once rid of the Test Act, Acadians could sit in the legislature. In 1830 Anselme Doucet was elected to represent Digby in Nova Scotia, and in 1836 Frederic Robichaud and Simon d'Entremont entered the House of Assembly. Ten years later Amand Landry became the first Acadian to hold a seat in the New Brunswick legislature, and in 1854 Stanislas Poirier of Tignish became the first Acadian assemblyman in Prince Edward Island. The

31 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance first Acadian to hold the premiership of a Canadian province was AubinEdmond Arsenault, the son of Senator J. Octave Arsenault of Prince Edward Island. Educated at the College Saint-Joseph in Memramcook, he held the office of premier of the island from 1917 to 1919 and from 1919 to 1921 was leader of the Conservative opposition.30 Yet, owing to their small numbers, the Acadians never played any significant role in Nova Scotia or Prince Edward Island politics. The situation in New Brunswick was different. Between 1829 and 1879 three Acadians held seats in the New Brunswick House of Assembly, four were elected in 1882, eight in 1899, ten in 1917, thirteen in 1948, fifteen in 1960, and sixteen in 1963.3I After Amand Landry, the door to political influence was ajar, at least in New Brunswick. More significant than the early efforts of Amand Landry were those of his son, Pierre. Born the year of his father's first election, he succeeded to his father's seat for Westmorland County in 1871, at the age of twenty-five, and then went on to obtain a place on the treasury benches as minister of public works in 1878. In 1883 he moved to the federal parliament in Ottawa. There was some talk of his taking over the leadership of the provincial Conservative party, but he preferred to continue his career on the bench to which he was appointed in 1890. In 1916 he was knighted by King George v, the first and only Acadian ever to be so honoured. During his political career, Landry sought to advance the interests of his people on all occasions. He was, for instance, largely responsible for Pascal Poirier's appointment to the Senate in 1885, an appointment which served as a precedent for the subsequent appointment of other Acadians, including Octave Arsenault from Prince Edward Island in 1895 and Ambroise Comeau from Nova Scotia in 1907. Landry's success, both in Fredericton and Ottawa, had important consequences for Acadians. Because he was a supporter of Sir John A. Macdonald, he carried the great majority of New Brunswick Acadians into the Conservative party. During the second half of the nineteenth century and into the twentieth, the Acadian vote was a Conservative vote, as, of course, was the French vote in Quebec. When, in 1903, there was a move to persuade Landry to take over the leadership of the provincial Conservative party, the Liberals were in a state of panic.32 But they need not have worried, Landry remained on the bench, and his political influence did not survive his death. At this time the Liberals were making a strong pitch for the support of the Acadians. In 1900 Sir Wilfrid Laurier had made it a point to attend the Acadian congress at Arichat, to be seen and to be heard. And his appearance

32 George F.G. Stanley was not without effect, since more Acadian votes swung to the Liberal party. This trend was strengthened by the imposition of conscription during World War i. No more than the French Canadians of Quebec did the Acadians like the idea of compulsory military service. When Laurier came out against conscription, the Acadians flocked to the polls to vote for him. It was not just a matter of voting for the federal Liberals; the provincial Liberals were gaining Acadian support. Certainly Walter Foster was prepared to recognize the extent of this support when he appointed three Acadians - L.A. Dugal, J.E. Michaud, and Pierre Veniot - to the provincial cabinet. There was a great deal of truth in Pierre Veniot's remarks to Mackenzie King in 1921, when he said 'in the dark days of 1917, when the Liberal party in the province seemed to be all shot to pieces, it was the French counties that saved the situation ... Without the French vote the Liberal party would be nil in this province.'33 It was in recognition of the new Liberal party political alliance that, when Foster retired in 1923, the Liberal party caucus, for the first time in New Brunswick history, chose an Acadian as leader of the party and as provincial premier. Given the intolerance of many English-speaking New Brunswickers, it was a tribute to Veniot that the Conservative press should congratulate him whole-heartedly and look upon his appointment as provincial premier as a 'monumental achievement for the Acadian people.'34 Two years later, in 1925, Veniot found himself back in opposition; he failed to win a single seat in the constituencies in which English-speaking Protestants were in the majority, or to lose a single seat in any constituency in which there was a heavy Acadian population.35 Discouraged, Veniot resigned the leadership of the provincial Liberal party and moved to Ottawa where he became postmaster general in the government of Mackenzie King. In the years that followed, the Acadians continued to give their political support to the Liberal party, but a generation would elapse before that party would venture to accept another Acadian as leader. Finally, in 1958 they chose Louis-Joseph Robichaud who had been born the year of Veniot's defeat. Educated at Bathurst and at Laval, Robichaud became New Brunswick's second Acadian premier in 1960. During the ten years of the Robichaud administration, great strides were made in the direction of co-operation and partnership between the Frenchand English-speaking peoples in New Brunswick. Despite its imperfections, Robichaud's 'Equal Opportunity/Chance egal pour tous' program did much to redress inequalities between the Acadian and the English-speaking

33 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance constituencies, and between the rural and urban areas of the province, in such fields as education, health, and public administration. His government was also responsible for the establishment of the Universite de Moncton, the Ecole normale, and the Official Languages Bill, making both French and English official languages within the boundaries of New Brunswick.36 Perhaps the most significant of Robichaud's achievements was to instil in the Acadian people the idea of collective political action and to convince English-speaking New Brunswickers that there was some virtue in the idea of French-English partnership in the conduct of public affairs. Of course, Robichaud did not have it all his own way. He had to make compromises. That surely is one of the realities of political life. Unlike Veniot, who had come to the premiership by the process of nomination, Robichaud won his position as New Brunswick's first minister by election at the polls on three separate occasions; he therefore had the support not only of the francophone population, but of a considerable portion of the anglophone population as well. New Brunswick had come a long way since the days of Pierre Landry. When Louis Robichaud retired from the leadership of the provincial Liberals in 1971, Robert Higgins, a Saint John lawyer, became party leader, an appointment which he held until his resignation in 1978. In May of that year Joseph Daigle, a Kent County lawyer like Robichaud, who had resigned as a judge to contest a seat in the legislature in 1974, was elected leader at a Liberal party convention, thus establishing a precedent in the party for the rotation of francophone and anglophone political leaders. Richard Hatfield, who had driven Robichaud from office in October 1970, had also defeated Higgins, becoming the first Conservative in many years to make successful inroads in the Liberal counties of northern and northeastern New Brunswick, but in October 1978, he was nearly beaten by Joseph Daigle. The Conservative majority was only two seats; indeed, had it not been for the fact that a disgruntled Liberal chose to run against the official Liberal candidate in Shippegan-les-Isles, thus making it possible for the Conservative candidate to win the election, the result would probably have been a tie, 29 Conservatives and 29 Liberals.37 Elsewhere, in the traditionally Liberal north, Daigle defeated two of Hatfield's French-speaking ministers, one of whom, Roland Boudreau, minister of natural resources, lost his seat in NigadooChaleur owing largely to the strong showing of the Parti Acadien leader, Jean-Pierre Lanteigne. At the same time, Daigle lost two of the seats in anglophone Saint John formerly held by the Liberal party. It therefore still

34 George F.G. Stanley remains to be seen whether Joseph Daigle can, like Louis Robichaud, muster sufficient strength in the English-speaking counties to be able to form New Brunswick's next government. VI

During the half century between the 19208 and 19708, the Acadians of New Brunswick underwent many changes. In 1921 there were 121,000 in the province (31 per cent of the total population); in 1971 they numbered over 235,000 (37 per cent of the population).38 The Acadians remain concentrated in the northern and northeastern counties along the Baie des Chaleurs and Northumberland Strait, particularly in Madawaska, Gloucester, and Kent counties, where they constitute over 80 per cent of the population. In Restigouche they make up 64 per cent, and in Victoria and Westmorland a little more than 40 per cent. In Northumberland County, lying between Kent, Gloucester, and Restigouche, the Acadians account for only 30 per cent. About 5 per cent of the people in the counties to the south and southwest, where the bulk of the population is English-speaking, acknowledge French as their mother tongue. One change to be noted is the movement from the rural areas into the towns. By 1971, almost half, 48.8 per cent, of the francophone population of New Brunswick no longer lived off the land and the sea as they did a century earlier. But it was not just the numbers of the people that were changing; their attitudes were also undergoing a change. The old concepts were losing their vitality, in particular that of religious faith as the principal pillar of the nation. During the 19308, the years of the Great Depression in Canada, a small group of the Acadian elite, deeply concerned about the insignificant part played by the French-speaking people in New Brunswick, undertook to expand their role, through the medium of a secret society, the Ordre des commandeurs de Jacques Cartier. This organization had begun in October 1926 in Ottawa, the work of a small group of French Canadians, still resentful of Ontario's notorious Regulation 17 insisting upon English as the sole language of instruction, and anxious to help their compatriots acquire greater influence in the federal and Ontario civil services. The purpose of the order was to counter what many French Canadians regarded as the clandestine and malevolent activities of the Masonic and Orange lodges within the public service. The idea of a

35 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance secret society, inspired by Catholic and national ideals, appealed to other French Canadian leaders, and Commanderies of the order were formed, not only in Quebec and Ontario, but also in New Brunswick, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Alberta. The motto of the order, Dieu et Paine, summed up its basic objectives. The order (sometimes referred to as La Patente) received the blessing of the Roman Catholic clergy, but its membership was made up largely of laymen, primarily professionals and businessmen, recognized leaders in their communities. It was not intended that the order should replace existing national societies, but rather that it should supplement and stimulate their activities. The Ordre des commandeurs de Jacques Carrier was introduced into New Brunswick in November 1933. And during the next thirty years it played a significant if unpublicized part in the social, economic, religious, and political life of the Acadian population. Commanderies were established in Campbellton, Caraquet, Edmundston, and Moncton, under the direction of Dr Felix Dumont, Dr E. Paulin, Dr Albert-M. Sormany, and Dr Alphonse Sormany, respectively. One of the active members was Gaspard Boucher, proprietor and editor of the Edmundston newspaper, Le Madawaska. After the existence of the order was revealed to the general public in 1963 and 1964, through articles which appeared in Maclean's magazine and in the Montreal newspaper, La Patrie, the order's influence declined and it was dissolved in 1966. Its strength and effectiveness had depended upon its secrecy and upon the discretion of its members. The question arises, did the order achieve anything for the Acadian population? The anti-elitist will respond negatively. Nevertheless, a survey of L'Emerillon, Le Madawaska, the papers of Dr Theo Godin in the Centre d'etudes acadiennes, the Memoires of Calixte Savoie and the publications of Alexandre Savoie, both former members of the order, leaves the reader with an impression of positive results. In politics, the Commanderies of the order influenced the Acadian vote in favour of the Liberal party - particularly during the election of 1935 - and obtained direct access to political patronage when members of the order, notably Gaspard Boucher and Pio-H. Laporte, were named to the provincial cabinet. The order also played a role in other aspects of Acadian life: in the activities of the caisses populaires and in the co-operative movement; in the establishment of summer courses at the Universite du Sacre-Coeur at Bathurst; in the formation of the Association acadienne d'education; in the appointment of Amedee Blanchard as

36 George F.G. Stanley inspector of schools in Madawaska and Victoria counties; in the establishment of a French section of the Normal School in Fredericton. All of this was accomplished behind closed doors by a small group of men, working without fanfare and without publicity.39 To say that the role of the church in Acadie was declining during these years is not to suggest that it suddenly ceased. On the contrary, during the 'dirty thirties' the clergy promoted colonization, a return to the land, as a partial answer to the economic distress of the time; they gave their blessing to the co-operative movement which came out of St Francis Xavier University; and they encouraged the extension into New Brunswick of the Association catholique de la jeunesse canadienne, a Catholic action young people's group which enjoyed clerical and nationalist support in Quebec. But after World War n the clergy found themselves faced with new political and social ideas, which New Brunswickers had picked up in Europe and in other parts of Canada. Acadians who had served in the armed forces and in the Upper Canadian and Quebec factories now talked in ideological terms foreign to the traditional outlook of the church. And although they may not have been violently anti-clerical, they were increasingly indifferent to the church of their fathers. Even the Societe nationale 1'Assomption underwent changes its founders would never have contemplated, much less advocated. The Nationale had, in fact, lost much of its impetus and enthusiasm after 1937. No conventions had been organized in the post-war period. Not until the approach of the bicentenary of the grand derangement did it come to life long enough to organize the celebration of 1955. But when the banquets and speeches were over, it quietly folded up. At a meeting in 1957 at Memramcook, the site of the first great Acadian convention of 1881 and the last in 1937, it was decided that the society should be reorganized. The name 1'Assomption was dropped. The old society had done much to consolidate the Acadian community, to ensure its survival and to provide it with meaning, but its methods and its symbols were out of date. The new organization was to be known simply as the Societe nationale des Acadians. It would pick up where the old society had left off, but with new ideas and methods. Cultural and ideological expansion rather than survival and adherence to religious faith was now the principal objective.40 But the new society never really got beyond the point reached by its predecessor. It failed to convince the general public that it was what they

37 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance wanted. Perhaps it cast its net too far. Perhaps it fell into the wrong hands. In any event, in 1973, a new body was formed, the Societe des Acadiens de Nouveau-Brunswick. Similar bodies, incidentally, already existed in Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island. The Societe nationale did not, however, disappear from the scene; it has continued as an umbrella organization, maintaining the link between the three provincial organizations.41 In the new organizations the role of the church is much less obvious and much less influential. Men such as the Moncton lawyer Adelard Savoie, the educator Clement Cormier, a priest and former rector of Universite SaintJoseph, and Mgr Norbert Robichaud, the second bishop of Moncton, might continue to support the traditional point of view while denouncing the growth of secularism, the evils of urbanization, and the deplorable tendency of the clergy to withdraw into the sacristy; they might appeal to the lessons of history and the patriotism of Acadians, particularly during the Robichaud years; but the younger generation of activists, inspired by the Quiet Revolution and the writings of Jean Hubert, was both anti-clerical and antipatriotic. Hubert had come from Quebec to edit the Moncton French language daily paper L'Evangeline in 1950. His self-imposed mission was to pull the Acadian people out of their parochialism and to lead them to a realization that they were an integral part of the great world of French civilization.42 For thirteen years he hammered away at the same theme, winning converts to his point of view. When he returned to Quebec in 1963, he left behind him a devoted band of militant activists who were to make their mark in the next few years. It was the Societe nationale des Acadiens which provided them with their opportunity. The Nationale had been concerned about its failure to attract members from among the younger people in the Acadian communities. They decided, therefore, that if a separate organization was available, young people might be induced to support the patriotic ideals for which Acadian leaders had been working since the days of the conventions. The new organization, Ralliement de la jeunesse, came into being in 1966. Almost at once it fell into the hands of a group of outspoken activists, including the ex-priest, Roger Savoie, and the sociologist, Camille Richard. Savoie and Richard and their friends had been meeting some time prior to the formation of the Ralliement as an informal political club at the Universite de Moncton. To them the Ralliement seemed a heaven-sent opportunity to

38 George F.G. Stanley spread their ideas of social and political action. By widening, or pretending to widen, the basis of the Ralliement's membership, financial assistance was obtained from the Centennial Commission in Ottawa, ostensibly for the promotion of Canadian unity. But unity was neither their interest nor their intention. From the outset, the Ralliement was never anything other than a small group of left-wing students whose aim, as Camille Richard frankly admitted, was 'to establish contact with Quebec.'43 There was, in fact, little that was Acadian about the Ralliement. Those who joined the organization rejected the old Acadian symbols, the flag, the hymn, the doctrine of faith and language; they denounced the Acadian elite and denied the relevancy of tradition; they employed a revolutionary jargon and talked of a social and economic Utopia in the future. The tone of their discussions was rebellious, their desire was to provoke, and their intention to profane.44 They would have nothing to do with the traditional association of religion with nationalism. They quite happily discarded the label Acadian. To be an Acadian was to be folkloric, to belong to an outmoded generation of nationalists.45 The members of the Ralliement thought of themselves as the new nationalists, as francophones, part of the great francophone world, not as Acadians. Above all they saw themselves as social and cultural revolutionaries. The Ralliement did not survive many months. It had no real strength of numbers and no practical program. After 1967 the only evidence of its existence consisted of a few documents, a manifesto, and the legacy of student troubles which plagued Moncton during the next two years. Michel Blanchard's conflict with the university authorities; Raymond LeBlanc's demand for the annexation of the francophone counties of New Brunswick to Quebec;46 Roger Savoie's continued agitation; the provocations of the student publications L'Insecte andL'Embryon', the confrontation with Leonard Jones, then mayor of Moncton; the film L'Acadie, L'Acadie, staged by Pierre Perrault and Michel Brault; all these developments were the product of the neo-nationalist movement in New Brunswick, and stemmed from the ideology of the Ralliement. To the new nationalists, nothing was sacred, nothing except the revolution. Christ was repudiated and Karl Marx elevated in his place; and the hammer and sickle replaced the golden star on the tricolour. As for history, 'sauvez-nous de la renaissance acadienne' was the answer. 'C'est a nous,' wrote Blanchard in L'lnsecte, 'professeurs et etudiants, intellectuels que nous sommes, de declencher la revolution... la population suivra nos traces ensuite.'47

39 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance But overheated student radicalism in Moncton was never representative of Acadian opinion within the province of New Brunswick. Despite the fact that the young revolutionaries rarely reached the farmer in Kent, the fisherman in Gloucester, or the pulp worker in Madawaska, they endeavoured to identify themselves with the working class. This fact explains why the Parti Acadien was founded, not in Moncton, but in the north. Even though the formation of the party is associated with the neo-nationalist period in New Brunswick history, it was largely the product of the practical economic and political problems of the northern region rather than the theoretical issues raised by the Moncton ideologues. The Parti Acadien was organized in February 1972. The first leader was Euclide Chiasson of Petit Rocher. The Parti Acadien ran thirteen candidates in the provincial election of 1974 but won no seats, although the votes taken from the Liberals by Chiasson in the constituency of Nigadoo-Chaleur were sufficient to unseat the sitting member and ensure the election of the Conservative candidate. In 1978 they again did well in Nigadoo-Chaleur but failed to win a seat. The new nationalists, like the members of the Ralliement before them, were too elitist themselves, even though they were elitists in disharmony with their own history. VII

The noisy demonstrations and verbal violence of the new nationalist left in Moncton tended, unfortunately, to obscure the fact that other elements in the Acadian population did have reasonable complaints and reasonable aspirations. Life had never been easy for Acadians. Subjected to invasions and neglected by France in the seventeenth century, deported and deprived of their civil rights in the eighteenth, and ignored in the nineteenth, they had, nevertheless, maintained their faith, identity, and homogeneity. Even in the twentieth century, collective life was still difficult for them. In New Brunswick, where their numerical strength was greatest, they had achieved recognition by compromise and by persistence, but it was a recognition which operated under certain geographical, economic, and cultural constraints. The Acadians of New Brunswick, despite the fact that their principal strength lies north of a line extending from Victoria County to Westmorland, do not form a solid ethnic block. Each of their principal centres of concentration, Madawaska, Gloucester, and Kent, is separated from the others by areas in which there is a strong anglophone population. Moreover, these

40 George F.G. Stanley three centres of population are not of a nature to sustain a large, expanding, and prosperous population; the land is poor for agricultural production, even in Kent; and fishing, lumbering, and mining are not labour-intensive industries. The result is unemployment and emigration. Emigration weakens the strength of the community, a fact which is confirmed by the decline in the Acadian share of the total provincial population from 38.8 per cent in 1961 to 37 per cent in 1971.48 If the emigration is to regions outside New Brunswick, to Quebec or Ontario, the emigres are lost permanently to the province; if the emigration is to the southern counties where the land is better and the employment opportunities greater, the emigres are exposed to a high rate of assimilation into the anglophone population, ranging from 39.8 per cent in York County to 74.3 per cent in Kings County. Assimilation is a two-way street. There is some assimilation of those of English ethnic origin into the francophone population in Madawaska, Gloucester, and Kent, but it is much less common than the linguistic assimilation of the French-speaking people living in the anglophone counties. The rate of assimilation of the francophone population declined between 1961 and 1971, but it still remains very high. In New Brunswick the rate of assimilation dropped only 5 per cent from 31.14 per cent in 1961 to 26.293 in 1971, in Prince Edward Island from 68.066 per cent to 64.266 in the same period, and in Nova Scotia from 63.972 in 1961 to 61.116 in 1971. The Acadian community, too, is caught up in the constitutional crisis in Canada. It is natural that the Acadians should be interested in what happens to the Canadian union and what happens to Quebec. After all, Acadians and Quebecois share a common origin. Priests from Quebec ministered to the Acadians in the barren years after the expulsion, and the Societe SaintJean-Baptiste provided the model and inspiration for the original national Acadian society. Acadians and Quebecois shared a mutual antipathy towards military conscription in two world wars. At the same time, because the Acadians are francophones living within a province with an anglophone majority, they have been disposed generally to share Henri Bourassa's dream of a Canada in which the equality of the two founding races would become a fundamental fact of political life. They are afraid, most of them, of Quebec's separation from the rest of Canada, and afraid, too, of a union of the Maritime provinces in which they would find themselves a minority numbering no more than 17 per cent of the total population.

41 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance What options are open to them? 49 The new nationalists advocate the annexation to Quebec of the area north of the Victoria County-Westmorland County line. Recognizing that such a proposal would be unacceptable in Fredericton and Ottawa and probably to the Acadians themselves, the Parti Acadien has suggested that the region in question be established as a separate province to be called Acadie.50 It is difficult to see the New Brunswick government ever agreeing to such a proposal, even if the southern part of the province were to respond by seeking union with Nova Scotia. The splitting of the province in half, either to annex the north to Quebec or to set it up as a separate province, is no more practical than the suggestion that New Brunswick should absorb Gaspesie and the Magdalen Islands to assist the Acadians to achieve an approximate numerical equality with the Englishspeaking population in the province. The latter suggestion is based upon the argument that both Gaspesie and the Magdalens contain a high percentage of Acadians. A separate Acadian province? There are too many ingredients lacking: demographic strength and concentration, economic viability, and an urban centre of importance. Even the francophone university in Moncton would be outside the proposed boundaries of the province of Acadie. Some romantic hotheads, with little imagination and less judgment, whose names have been associated with the Front de liberation du Quebec, talk of violence and even of rebellion.51 But violence is not part of the Acadian tradition - a fact of which both France and Great Britain were aware in the eighteenth century. More traditional was the step taken in June 1977 by the Societe des Acadiens du Nouveau-Brunswick to hold a meeting of the so-called Etatsgeneraux d'Acadie in November 1978, to see if a consensus existed among the Acadian people with respect to their future within Canada and New Brunswick.52 The Etats-generaux seems to have experienced internal difficulties and, in May 1978, it severed its connection with the parent body. What the future holds for the Etats-generaux is open to question. It may fall back upon history and revive the familiar idea of a national 'convention' - after all, the term Etats-generaux has certain revolutionary and separatist connotations - or it may fall into the hands of the radical left - in which case it would cease to be truly representative of the Acadian community.53 The only practical proposal is that of partnership, and that means the recognition of the Acadian fact by the anglophone people of New Brunswick

42 George F.G. Stanley and recognition, too, of the moral justice of the Acadian claim to equality of opportunity, economic and social. It means French schools and bilingual services. It means a greater determination on the part of Acadians to work through existing political institutions to influence party programs and to share political power with their English-speaking associates.54 It means, quite frankly, following, not the urgings of the ideologues, but the practical example of Louis Robichaud. With halting steps, New Brunswick is now moving in this direction. With good will and an understanding that extremists, whether they speak French or English, never represent the majority, equality is bound to come, and better sooner than later. Without partnership, neither Acadie nor New Brunswick will see out the present century. NOTES 1 The French colony in the Maritime region was known as Acadie; in 1621 the area acquired the name of Nova Scotia, when James i granted the region to his fellow Scot, Sir William Alexander, later Earl of Stirling. There are several explanations offered as to the derivation of the name Acadia or Acadie. Some authorities suggest that the word comes from the word Arcadie or Larcadia, used on various sixteenth-century maps and attributed to Verrazzano; others believe that the word derives from the Micmac word quoddy or cady, meaning a piece of land. These explanations are not, of course, mutually exclusive. Acadie and Nova Scotia were used, the first by Quebec and Paris, and the second by Boston and London, to describe the same area. See A.H. Clark, Acadia, the geography of early Nova Scotia to 1760 (Madison 1968), 71 ni. 2 G. Massignon, Les parlers franc,ais d'Acadie: enquete linguistique, 2 vols. (Paris 1962), i: 42, 70. 3 Fran9ois Rameau de Saint-Pere, La France aux colonies, etudes sur le developpement de la race franc,.aise hors de VEurope (Paris 1859), 124-7. Clark, Acadia, 123, 130. 4 Clark, Acadia, 211. 5 There was some intermarriage with the native population, but for the most part the metis offspring became identified with the Indians rather than with the Acadians. Naomi Griffiths discusses intermarriage within the group in her book The Acadians: creation of a people (Toronto 1973), 14. 6 This is the theme of Alonie de Lestres, Au Cap Blomidon (Montreal 1932). Alonie de Lestres was the nom de plume of Canon Lionel Groulx. 7 Sir Charles Lucas, A historical geography of the British dominions, Canada, part i (Oxford 1923), 172. 8 See Maxwell Sutherland, 'Richard Philipps,' Dictionary of Canadian biography (Toronto 1974), m: 517. According to D.H. Gillis in his article, 'Acadia,' in Encyclopedia Canadiana (Ottawa 1960), i: 44, Philipps urged that the colony be given back to France.

43 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance 9 J.B. Brebner, New England's outpost: Acadia before the conquest of Canada (Hamden 1965) 224-6. See also A.G. Doughty, The Acadian exiles (Toronto 1920), 136; Antoine Bernard, Histoire de VAcadie (Moncton 1939), 61-2, and Clark, Acadia., 346-51. Other sources suggest that the numbers deported may have been much greater. See Marguerite Michaud, La reconstruction franchise au Nouveau-Brunswick (Fredericton 1955)5 23. 10 For the movements of the Acadians between 1755 and 1800, see R.G. LeBlanc, 'The Acadian migrations,' Canadian Geographical Journal LXXXI (July 1970): 10-19. 11 Henri Tetu et C-O. Gagnon, Mandements des eveques de Quebec (Quebec 1887), 15-16. 12 Michaud, La reconstruction, 59-60. Also Desire Leger, L'histoire de la paroisse de Saint-Pierre de Cocagne (Moncton 1920), 35. 13 The inventory of the correspondence of Joseph-Octave Plessis will be found in the Rapports de I'Archiviste de la Province de Quebec, 1927-8, 1928-9, 1932-3. See also Cyril Bryne, 'The Maritime visits of Joseph-Octave Plessis, bishop of Quebec,' Nova Scotia Historical Society Collections 39 (1977): 23—47. 14 The domination of the Maritime dioceses by the Irish and Scottish clergy during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries is evident from the following appointments. Halifax: Edmund Burke (1818-20), William Fraser (1842-4), William Walsh (184458), Thomas Connolly (1859-76), Michael Hannan (1877-82), Cornelius O'Brien (1883-1906), Edward McCarthy (1906-31). Saint John: William Dollard (1843-51), Thomas Connolly (1852-9), John Sweeney (1860-1901), Timothy Casey (1901-12). Chatham: James Rogers (1860-1902), Thomas Barry (1902-20), Louis J. O'Leary (auxiliary) (1914-20). Charlottetown: Angus MacEachern (1829-35), Bernard Donald McDonald (1837-59), Peter Mclntyre (1860-91), James McDonald (1891-1912), Henry O'Leary (1913-20), Louis J. O'Leary (1920-30). Arichat (until 1886) and Antigonish: William Fraser (1844-51), Colin MacKinnon (185277), John Cameron (1877-1910). 15 See Camille-Antoine Doucet, Une etoile s'est levee en Acadie, Marcel-Francois Richard (Rogersville 1973). 16 The total by provinces were: New Brunswick 232,127, Nova Scotia 87,883, and Prince Edward Island 17,418. 17 Omer Le Gresley, L'enseignement du francais en Acadie (Mamers 1926), 34. 18 Katherine F.C. McNaughton, The development of the theory and practice of education in New Brunswick, 1784-1900 (Fredericton 1947), 89. 19 For the founding of the College Saint-Joseph, see P.F. Bourgeois, Vie de I'abbe Franc, ois-Xavier Lafrance (Montreal 1913). 20 For an account of the Acadian classical colleges, see G.F.G. Stanley, 'Les colleges classiques de langue francaise en Acadie,' Societe historique acadienne, Cahiers vi (1975): 117-37. 21 See Aphonse Lafreniere et a/., Rapport de la Commission de planification academique de I'universite de Moncton^ 2 vols (Moncton 1971). 22 C.J. d'Entremont et a/., Petit manuel de I'histoire d'Acadie des debuts a 1976 (Moncton 1976), 3e partie, 33-4.

44 George F.G. Stanley 23 For biographical studies of Landry and Poirier, see Delia M.M. Stanley, Au service de deux peuples, Pierre-Amand Landry (Moncton 1977) and Gerard Beaulieu, 'Pascal Poirier, premier senateur acadien, 1852-1933' (unpublished MA thesis, Universite d'Ottawa 1971). 24 Eloi DeGrace, Monseigneur Stanislas J. Doucet (Shippigan 1977), 49. See also Fernand Robidoux, Conventions nationales des Acadiens, Memramcook, Miscouche, Pointe de I'Eglise, 1881, 1884, 1890 (Shediac 1907), I. 25 AJ. Leger, Les grandes lignes de I'histoire de la Societe TAssomption (Quebec 1933), 43ff, 56-726 Delia Stanley, Au service, 194. 27 Petition of P. Duperre and 19 others, 18 Feb. 1796, RLE/1796, Public Archives of New Brunswick (PANE). 28 In a letter to Edward Winslow, 2 July 1792, Thomas Costin wrote: 'I am likewise happy that Oliver Sir (Cyr) hath received the Commission of Captain; he is a faithful servant and will sertently conform himself by the Laws and Regulations of New Brunswick; he has inroll'd the Inhabitants and would wish to have the Acts of Militia in French that he might Execute his Duty. I will assist him as much as will lay in my Power and translate the Acts Militia in French.' W.O. Raymond, Winslow papers, 1776-1826 (Saint John 1901), 395. When Pierre Duperre complained of having been asked to take the declaration against transubstantiation, Jonathan Odell wrote to Amos Botsford stating that he had told Duperre that 'in my opinion, he was not bound to make the declaration, nor did I suppose it would be required, but that I gave him the translations of it, in order that, if it should be required he might know what it was.' Odell to Botsford, 26 Feb. 1803, RLE/i8o3/Misc., PANE. 29 W.A. Spray, 'Early Northumberland County, 1765-1825, a study in local government' (unpublished MA thesis, University of New Brunswick 1963). 30 J.H. Blanchard, The Acadians of Prince Edward Island, 1720-1964 (Charlottetown I976)5 9i> 99-100. 31 C.J. d'Entremont et a/., Petit manuel, 3e partie, 12. 32 Delia Stanley, Au service, 176. 33 Veniot to King, 26 Dec. 1921, as quoted in A.T. Doyle, Front benches and back rooms (n.p. 1977), 225. For a discussion of the Acadian reaction towards conscription, see M.S. Spigelman, 'Les Acadiens et les Canadiens en temps de guerre,' Societe historique acadienne, Cahiers vm (1977): 5-22. 34 Blanchard, Acadians, 99-100. 35 Doyle, Front benches, 255-8. The Ku Klux Klan is said to have come into the province to help defeat Veniot. 36 In his review of J.P. Hautecoeur, L'Acadie du discours: pour une sociologie de la culture acadienne (Quebec 1975), in the Revue d'histoire de I'Amerique franchise 29 (1976): 592-3, Leon Theriault criticizes the author's reluctance to give due credit to Louis Robichaud's efforts to improve French language facilities in Moncton. 27 R.B. Byers and John Saywell, eds, Canadian annual review of politics and public affairs, 1978 (Toronto 1980), 177-80.

45 The flowering of the Acadian renaissance 38 The demographic details in this paper are taken from the Federation des francophones hors Quebec, Les heritiers de lord Durham, 2 vols. (n.p. 1975), n. 39 Alexandre-J. Savoie, Un siecle de revendications scolaires an Nouveau Brunswick (Edmundston 1980), n. 40 Clement Cormier, 'La societe nationale des Acadiens,' L'Evangeline, 24 juin 1957, 15 aout 1971. 41 FFHQ, Les heritiers de lord Durham, n: 9. 42 Hautecoeur, L'Acadie, 113-16. 43 Ibid., 199. Richard stated: 'en invitant des gens de 1'exterieur c'etait bien des gens de la gauche qu'on invitait... le probleme de 1'unite canadienne, 93 n'entrait pas en ligne de compte. On n'en a meme pas discute de cette affaire la.' When the organization began, the members invited a number of prominent Quebecois, including Rene Levesque and Claude Ryan, to speak to them. Only two accepted: professors Jacques Lazure and Robert Sevigny. Richard told Hautecoeur, 'On voulait etablir un contact avec Quebec ... On voulait des intellectuels.' (Ibid., 200.) 44 Ibid., 202-3, 215, 217, 218. 45 Ibid., 223-5. This attitude was still thought to be prevalent in the early 19708. When the Lafreniere Commission proposed that the name of the Universite de Moncton be changed to TUniversite Acadienne,' it encountered opposition from the university authorities on the grounds that many students would consider the name 'folkloriste' and would not accept it. 46 LeBlanc wrote: 'II n'y a done pas de renaissance en Acadie parceque I'Ac^adie est chose du passe. II y a cependant une revolution qui s'opere dans notre milieu, une revolution qui nous encourage a crier a tout bas: "Vive la francophonie libre!'" See L'Evangeline, 28 mars 1968. 47 L'Insecte, decembre 1968, quoted in Hautecoeur, L'Acadie, 292. 48 FFHQ, Les heritiers de lord Durham, n: 31. 49 Ibid., n: 47. 50 It is significant that, in September 1980, the Societe des Acadiens du NouveauBrunswick moved its headquarters from Moncton to Petit Rocher, located in the region which would become the proposed Acadian province. Petit Rocher is near Bathurst, central to the most heavily populated Acadian region. For various articles relating to Acadian nationalist thinking, see L'Action Nationale, LXVII (1977). 51 This idea seems to have originated with a former member of the New Brunswick legislature, Andre Dumont, now a member of the Parti Acadien. He states that when the union of the Maritime provinces was being discussed, he declared: 'Sur vos somptueux bureaux d'acajou, depliez une humble mappe du Nouveau Brunswick, placez-y une regie en diagonale de Grand-Sault a Moncton. En suivant bien cette direction, tirez une ligne au crayon d'un bout a 1'autre et inscrivez de nouveau dans la partie superieure de ce partage 1'appellation ACADIE en grosses lettres.' L'Acayen, juin 1972. 52 L'Evangeline, 7, 16 decembre 1977; 31 Janvier 1978. 53 The English term should be 'Estates-Generar rather than 'States-General.' The latter seems to imply states in the territorial sense. In those instances in which the Estates-

46 George F.G. Stanley General met in France, that body was representative of the various classes or estates of society: clergy, nobility, commonalty. In 1672, Frontenac summoned the 'estates' of Canada, an action disapproved in Paris. In 1789 the Estates-General met in France and took the first steps towards what became the French revolution. 54 Michel Bastarache, 'La contribution des Acadiens du Nouveau Brunswick au grand debat sur 1'unite nationale' (quelques elements de discussion en vue de la tenue des Etats-generaux d'Acadie a 1'automne de 1978, mimeographed, February 1978), 16-18.

E.R. FORBES

In search of a post-confederation Maritime historiography5 1900-1967

This paper began as a critical review from a Maritime perspective of Professor Carl Berger's The writing of Canadian history: aspects of English-Canadian historical writing, 1900-1970 (Toronto 1976). I had initially envisioned it as contribution to a kind of Carl Berger 'roast.'1 The approach had its appeal. Had not his work received the highest award to which a Canadian historian might aspire? And had not the author supped with the gods, or at least the governor general? Obviously some good-natured raillery and honest criticism would help restore the author's status as a fallible human being. To this end one could point out that in The writing of Canadian history, Professor Berger did not mention a single major historical work on the Maritimes for the period after confederation. Surely this was a shocking display of regional bias! But, upon reflection, this author too was unable to name any books dealing primarily with aspects of post-confederation Maritime history written in English by a professional historian in the first century after confederation. Thus, the paper turned into an examination of the deficiencies of Maritime post-confederation historiography. In fact, this is a story of two failures: the failure of mainstream Canadian historians to pursue themes which readily included the Maritimes, or to include the Maritimes in the themes which they did pursue, and the failure of academics residing in the region to respond effectively to the Maritimers' own obvious, and sometimes desperate, search for an historical perspective which would help them to understand their plight in a modern world. Neglect and stereotyping left the Reprinted with minor editorial changes from Acadiensis vm (autumn 1978): 3-21, by permission.

48 E.R. Forbes Maritime student with a version of Canadian history to which he was unable to relate and which seriously distorted the national picture. The emphases in Canadian historical writing, at least until the 19505, tended to enrich Maritime historiography in the pre-confederation period while diverting attention away from it thereafter. The focus on FrenchEnglish relations encouraged a host of amateur and professional historians such as Francis Parkman, James Hannay, D.C. Harvey, and Archibald MacMechan to examine the Acadians, their conflict with the English, and their ultimate expulsion. Naomi Griffiths has noted over two hundred works on the expulsion alone.2 But English Canadian historians appeared to lose all interest in the Acadians after the deportation; those concerned with the problems of francophone minorities directed their attention almost exclusively to Ontario and the west. Similarly, the theme of Canada's step-by-step growth from colony to nation - the other primary preoccupation of Canadian historians at the beginning of this century3 - encouraged both imperialist and liberal-nationalist scholars, such as James Hannay, D.C. Harvey, Chester Martin, W.R. Livingston and J.A. Roy, to explore a variety of Maritime topics relating to constitutional development, including the 'struggle' for responsible government and the 'achievement' of confederation, and to develop a cult of Joseph Howe, hero of the fight for responsible government and anti-hero in the conflict over confederation. But after confederation, the road to nation and commonwealth bypassed the Maritimes entirely in a focus on trade policy, imperial conferences, and external affairs. For constitutional historians the Maritimes had virtually ceased to exist.4 This was in conspicuous contrast to the prairies whose historians, led by the ubiquitous Chester Martin, found a parallel to Canada's struggle for autonomy in their own evolution to 'full' provincial status. This approach served to express sectional grievances and even suggested a rationale for securing increased subsidies from federal governments.5 The shift in interest from British-Canadian to Canadian-American relations after World War I helped the student of the modern Maritimes only a little. Boundary disputes in the region were settled in an earlier era. J.B. Brebner confined his thesis of Nova Scotia as an extension of New England to the Acadian and revolutionary periods. Even the voluminous Carnegie series yielded but scattered bits of information, largely confined to population movement, fisheries disputes, and the timber industry.6 The view of Canada's history as the story of the development of a series of staples for

49 In search of a post-confederation maritime historiography export, which also became fashionable in the inter-war period, contributed only slightly more. Accounts of the fur trade touched on the Maritimes only in the earliest period; those of the timber trade largely petered out with confederation.7 Harold Innis' Cod fisheries devoted but two of fifteen chapters to the Atlantic fishery after 1867, and studies of the wheat economy ignored the Maritimes entirely.8 The frontier approach, which also diverted attention away from the Maritimes in the modern era, paradoxically contributed substantially to the image of the region which did emerge. Frederick Jackson Turner's essay of 1893 set out the hypothesis of a frontier moving in stages westward through the United States with the availability of free land. This frontier provided a 'crucible' in which 'immigrants were Americanized, liberated, and fused into a mixed race.' The ideas of social stratification were sloughed off with other cultural baggage, and from this process came a dynamic for social and material progress, democracy, and nationalism.9 It was a thesis, which with a few adjustments for differences in westward development, could readily be applied to Canada.10 The thesis had tremendous appeal to those who could still see themselves or their region as close to the frontier stage. After all, it implied that they were progressive, democratic, and represented the true essence of the nation. But it was difficult for Maritimers to perceive themselves as part of a frontier society. The Maritimers were the only provinces lacking huge territories in the process of settlement or other forms of primitive development. And even a cursory examination suggested that here the process of cultural fusion was neither rapid nor complete. In short, the frontier approach implied that for an understanding of the progressive dynamic animating Canada in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, one should look westward to Ontario, to the prairies, to British Columbia and to the north. The Maritimes were of interest only as a foil against which to demonstrate the validity of the frontier approach; simple logic suggested that, if the frontier encouraged progressive, egalitarian, and democratic attitudes, then that part of the country furthest removed from the frontier stage must be conservative, socially stratified, and unprogressive. It would be simplistic, however, to attribute the pervasive frontier influence in Canadian writing merely to a conscious acceptance of the theories outlined by Turner. In 1970 Michael Cross commented that 'an avowed "frontierist" is hardly to be found in a day's walk. Yet evidence of the fron-

50 E.R. Forbes tier approach is to be discovered in the writings of a great many historians, many of whom would take umbrage at having this fact drawn to their attention.'11 Perhaps the latter were unaware of any debt to Turner because they were influenced more by the popular ideas in which Turner's work had its roots. Often the 'greatest' and certainly the most popular historians are those who express clearly ideas and emotions implicit in the local folk culture.12 Henry Nash Smith, in Virgin land: the American west as symbol and myth, suggested such a role for Turner. The principal ingredients of Turner's hypothesis - the focus on the west, pride in democracy, the provision for new opportunities, and the emphasis on agricultural settlement were already very much a part of the Americans' view of their country when Turner presented his paper. Canadians, too, developed a myth of the west similar in essence to that of the Americans. Professor Gerald Friesen has outlined the principal ingredients of that myth, which portrayed the west as a source of individualism, new opportunities, virility, co-operative ideals, democracy, cultural fusion, and material and social progress.13 Undoubtedly Turner's contribution to the formulation and articulation of this myth was significant; one suspects, however, in view of the all-pervasive expression of these ideas in popular culture and the emotional satisfaction they provided for so many Canadians, that a similar myth would have evolved even had Turner remained a journalist.14 In any case, the 'myth of the west,' as Professor Friesen has noted, 'captured' English Canada before the end of World War I. The popular view that western development and the wheat economy were the keys to Canada's current and future prosperity suggests an underlying economic motive in the myth's triumph. In a bid for immigrants, propaganda put out by governments, railways, and boards of trade portrayed Canada as a frontier community. The ideals of the western myth - democracy, cultural fusion, agrarianism, and progress - had become so firmly rooted in British, American, and Canadian traditions that most English Canadians delighted in ascribing them to their country.15 The popular literature of the day, including the work of Canadians Ralph Connor and RJ.C. Stead, as well as Americans widely read in Canada, such as Zane Grey, trumpeted the virtues of the frontier ad nauseam.16 In the western myth's capture of Canadian historians, the key factor was probably personal contact with the prairies. Westerners espoused their myth with a passion and commitment that was contagious. In the early decades of

51 In search of a post-confederation maritime historiography the twentieth century, those who took their news from the Winnipeg Free Press, attended the sermons of a William Ivens, J.S. Woodsworth, or other prairie social gospel preachers, and rubbed shoulders with the enthusiasts of the grain-growers' co-operatives could hardly have avoided a warm glow of satisfaction that they too were involved in a dynamic experiment, which would lead the way to a prosperous and morally superior nation. One of the striking facts revealed in Berger's survey was the number of Canada's leading historians of the first half of the century who taught on the prairies at formative stages of their careers. These included Chester Martin, Frank Underbill, A.R.M. Lower, W.A. Macintosh, D.C. Masters, and sociologist S.D. Clark. Not surprisingly, some of the leading Canadian exponents of frontierism came from this group. Both Frank Underbill, who lectured at the University of Saskatchewan from 1914 to 1926, with only a brief interruption, and A.R.M. Lower, who taught at Wesley College in Winnipeg until his call to Queen's in 1947, proclaimed a version of Canadian history in which the ideas of Turner and the western myth were prominently featured - a version of Canadian history in which the Maritimes virtually ceased to exist after the union. As Underbill succinctly put it: 'As for the Maritime provinces, nothing, of course, ever happens down there.'17 A.R.M. Lower, who had enthusiastically espoused the Turner thesis from the beginning of the 19308, made the same point more subtly by entirely ignoring this period of Maritime history in his Canadians in the making. Although Lower was already showing interest in the role of the metropolis when this text appeared in 1958, the following excerpt reveals his continued commitment to the myth of the west and his disdain for the Maritimes: There is an ocean of difference between the relatively mature localism of a secondary urban community and the air that blows through the national capital, Ottawa. This air begins to blow at Montreal, where the meeting of the two cultures makes for unwilling breath. It strengthens in Ottawa, whose major reason for existence is the duty of seeing in all directions. A current from it runs down to Toronto and the western peninsula of Ontario (only three chapters ago this was 'western Canada'), both of which are rescued from parochialism by the scope of their economic activities. But it is at the head of the lakes that the air begins to blow strong, for with Port Arthur the traveller is in another world, the West. From Lakehead to the Pacific coast, the same air blows. The same kind of observation could be made as one goes northward, for here too there is another world. The atmosphere is similar to that of

52 E.R. Forbes the West. It has the geographical emancipation, the hope, energy, lack of convention, readiness to accept all comers and on equal terms, that mark new societies wherein, the old moulds having been broken, the pieces are set loose and shaken up into new patterns.18

As the western myth grew in popularity, Maritimers became increasingly conscious of the need to assert a regional perspective of their own. This was the goal of the semi-scholarly historical and literary journal, Acadiensis, established in 1901, and the popular Busy East of Canada, founded in I9io.19 Writing in the latter, R.V. Sharp of Sydney most clearly articulated the Maritime dilemma. If the western myth - a myth which set such unMaritime criteria for nationalism as rapid cultural fusion and unrelieved agrarianism - were allowed to define the nation, how then could Maritimers identify themselves as Canadians? They would. Sharp argued, have to assert their own version of Canadianism - a Maritime Canadianism. A country such as these Maritimes, a race of Canadians such as these eastern men of pioneer breed have no need to turn to the provinces of the melting pot for their conceptions of Canada and Canadians. It is time the east came out from behind the skirts of the west and made it clear to the world that there is more than great sweeps of Prairie, more than Rocky Mountains and mushroom cities and immigrant citizens - that there is a Canada, distinct and individual from this, a Canada with a definite past as old as any in America, a Canada with a definite future which is not at all the future of the country of golden grain. Canada cannot be served by bending the old to the new. Each must go its way; and the east must realize itself, even as the west has done.20

In the 19205 the leaders of the Maritime Rights Movement became aware of the deficiencies of Canadian historiography regarding national commitments allegedly made to their region at confederation and in subsequent decades. Sporadically they published pamphlets and magazine and newspaper articles to show the historical background of their grievances, A.P. Paterson, wholesale grocer from Saint John, turned out a lengthy pamphlet entitled The true story of confederation, a second edition of which was circulated by the New Brunswick king's printer in 1926. Dartmouth journalist, H.S. Congdon, produced a spate of articles on the historical basis of the Maritimes' claims to Canada's winter trade. F.C. Cornell, the freight rate

53 In search of a post-confederation maritime historiography expert employed by the Maritime Transportation Committee, dug up considerable information on the history of transportation policy in the region. Constant appeals to dominion statistician R.H. Coates for data led to the publication of historical profiles on the Maritimes in 1927, 1934, and I948.21 Literally dozens of studies commissioned for or prepared as submissions to a proliferating number of provincial and federal royal commissions attempted to show the historical background of Maritime problems. None of these, with the exception of S.A. Saunders' Economic history of the Maritime provinces (Ottawa 1939), merits serious attention as historical literature on the Maritimes.22 But their accumulation, along with the other material mentioned above, reveals a pressing desire by Maritimers to understand their recent past, the nature of their industries and society, and their role in the Canadian nation. In meeting this need, they were poorly served by the Canadian historical community. Even historians within the Maritimes tended to pursue other interests. At Dalhousie University, George Wilson, a 'progressive' in his youth who turned to history for an understanding of society and a guide for future reform, found Canadian history dull and, having contributed a dull book of his own on Robert Baldwin and responsible government, escaped to the more exhilarating clime of the French revolution.23 At Acadia R.S. Longley produced a biography of Francis Hincks, and at Mount Allison D.G.G. Kerr laboured on the biography of a colonial governor. Nova Scotia's provincial archivist, D.C. Harvey, was prolific and varied in his choice of topics, examining Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, and the region as a whole, but he steadfastly adhered to the earlier period, at least until the twilight of his career.24 New Brunswick was the scene of the most promising attempt to develop an indigenous historiography of the modern Maritime period. In 1927 J.C. Webster of Shediac produced a pamphlet, entitled The distressed Maritimes, in which he castigated the country in general and the Maritimes in particular for their neglect of culture and education and identified this neglect as the most critical of Maritime problems.25 Webster was in a strong position to criticize. A gentleman and scholar in the British liberal tradition, Webster wrote on the Acadian period, invested his personal fortune in the collection of books and manuscripts that would otherwise have been lost, at least to New Brunswick, and served as patron to the New Brunswick Museum.26 In 1934, acting on his own initiative, he attracted to the museum a most promis-

54 E.R. Forbes ing scholar in A.G. Bailey, and managed to secure grants for his sustenance from the Carnegie Foundation. Meanwhile, A.P. Paterson, minister of education in the Dysart government, sought to carve out a Maritime perspective in Canadian historiography and establish once and for all all the 'true' story of confederation. Distrusting the traditional 'ivory tower' concept of the university, and influenced by theories of adult education then current, Paterson proposed to establish Bailey in a chair of Maritime history directly responsible to the minister of education. From this position the incumbent might be expected to produce a suitable version of Canadian history which he would then disseminate at the University of New Brunswick and in lectures and study groups throughout the province. As an independent scholar, Bailey was less than enthused. Aided by Webster's influence with other cabinet ministers, he secured instead an appointment to a new chair in history at the University of New Brunswick, a chair supported but not controlled by the provincial government.27 Professor Bailey took seriously the responsibility of helping to develop the history of the constitutency which his university served. He prepared a series of essays on New Brunswick and confederation, but much to A.P. Paterson's disgust, instead of serving as a basis for regional propaganda as had Chester Martin's early work on the west, they proved a model of scholarly detachment.28 Bailey also launched what was intended to be a wholesale attack on the lamentable lack of historical literature on his province. Drawing up a list of some thirty thesis topics which stressed economic, social, and cultural history, he eventually secured a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation to fund graduate students and the publication, under his editorship, of expanded versions of their theses. The first of these studies, a solid examination of the development of the New Brunswick school system by Katherine MacNaughton, broke the confederation barrier by carrying its analysis forward to I900.29 Unfortunately, the first study published was also the last, as Bailey was sucked into the maw of academic administration. In 1946 he passed on his mantle as regional historian to W.S. MacNutt. But MacNutt decided that the pre-confederation period would have to be re-worked before one could hope to understand the later period. When major academic studies of the post-confederation Maritime provinces finally did materialize in the 19508 and 19608, they came not from historians but political scientists. The Government of Canada series, edited

55 In search of a post-confederation maritime historiography by Nova Scotia-born R. MacGregor Dawson, yielded studies of political institutions in each of the three provinces.30 Frank MacKinnon's The government of Prince Edward Island (Toronto 1951)5 J. Murray Beck's The government of Nova Scotia (Toronto 1957), and Hugh Thorburn's Politics 'of New Brunswick (Toronto 1961) contained sufficient historical perspective to make them the most important contributions to the modern historiography of each province up to that time. Although concentrating on the contemporary politics of New Brunswick in the 19508, Thorburn examined the traditional, regional, and ethnic divisions in the province and provided a brief synthesis of the chiefly French language literature on the Acadian renaissance. MacKinnon's work on the island was a study of governmental institutions from their colonial origins through the modern era. Beck's study followed a similar format, but with much richer historical detail and analysis, especially for the later period. Indeed, although not technically fitting the scope of Berger's study, this is one work which perhaps should have been included for its monumental contribution to a neglected field of Canadian history. Yet, from the historian's viewpoint, all three works had their limitations. They were narrowly political; they were written before much private political correspondence was available; and they relied to a significant degree on each author's personal acquaintance with his province and on confidential interviews with unnamed politicians and other prominent citizens. Writing after a period of more than two decades of Liberal ascendancy in provincial and federal politics, Beck frequently repeated the Liberal mythology, although not necessarily endorsing it as factual.31 His scholarship appeared to be tinged also with a barely suppressed indignation at what he considered the conservatism of his province's leaders in failing to develop innovative legislation and to protect provincial and regional interests at the federal level. He so stressed, for example, the 'omnipresent caution' of Premier Murray's long regime (1896-1923) that the province's participation in reforms of North America's 'progressive era' - including its pioneering role in technical education - went quite unnoticed.32 His claim that 'Nova Scotian members of Parliament have followed a thoroughly conservative course, never resorting to the radical procedure of threatening to break up a government or even deviating from the party line to strengthen their bargaining position' has not been sustained by subsequent investigation.33 Nevertheless, his general picture of overriding political conservatism has gone unquestioned by

56 E.R. Forbes Canadian historians, for it fitted perfectly the ultra-conservative stereotype already firmly established for the region. Logically deducible from the frontier thesis, the popular stereotype had received a strong boost from the prairies' disappointment at the Maritimes' rejection of their leadership in the Progressive movement. Refusing to admit that Maritime interests differed in any way from their own, prairie Progressives ascribed their failure in the region to one factor - the innate conservatism and traditional partisanship of the people.34 Residents of the central Canadian metropolises were also happy to attribute the destruction of the Maritime economy to the generally unprogressive nature of the Maritime character - a cause for which they could in no way be held responsible. According to R.L. Calder, a Montreal barrister, instead of trying to help themselves, Maritimers preferred 'to sit on the country store steps ... chew apples and talk politics.5 Or, as Harold Cunningham put it in an article in MacLean's Magazine, the Maritime provinces were like a housewife who, having married for money which failed to materialize, 'neglected her housework, went down to the seashore ... watched the ships go by and pouted.'35 Although it is not surprising in view of the paucity of research that contemporary stereotypes should provide historians with explanations for Maritime behaviour, it is ironic that one of those who relied on the stereotype was W.L. Morton who had stressed distinct regional perspectives in his 1946 critique of the Laurentian school of Canadian historians. In 1950 Morton himself gave an effective affirmation of the prairie regional perspective in his Progressive party in Canada (Toronto 1950). But in this and in his later works, he appeared to draw his interpretations of Maritime behaviour from the Winnipeg Free Press. Having established the Progressive party as the product of a unique economic base - the 'political expression of the monolithic wheat economy' - he then explained its failure in the far east by a wholly gratuitous invocation of Maritime conservatism.36 His oft-cited article, 'The bias of prairie politics,' minimized the effectiveness of separate political movements by exaggerating Maritime gains from working within the traditional party framework - an exaggeration which was a standard ploy by the prairie press and politicians in demanding more for their region.37 The shaky foundations of Morton's generalizations about the modern Maritimes are most clearly revealed, however, in a highly misleading statement in The kingdom of Canada; there he informs the reader that in the 19205 'Maritimers refrained from protest or talk of secession as in the past. They gener-

57 In search of a post-confederation maritime historiography ally put their faith in the Liberal party and followed the veteran Fielding and the young J.L. Ralston in seeking relief by pressure on that party. In 1926 they were rewarded by the appointment of a royal commission on Maritime claims.'38 This, of course, was the period of the Maritime Rights Movement, the secession resolution of H.W. Corning, and the overwhelming Conservative victories in the region in three provincial and two federal elections. Similar distortions can be found in other monographic literature. In 1950 Catherine Cleverdon's The woman suffrage movement in Canada provided a more balanced regional study of a nation-wide movement. Each of the traditional regions received a separate chapter. But despite the regional approach, the traditional myth of the frontier and the Maritime stereotype continued to dominate. The overriding thesis was apparent in the chapter subheadings. Ontario was the 'Pioneer' which 'bore the brunt of pioneering for women's rights.' Then the prairies, which represented 'Democracy's "Grass Roots",' took the lead in giving full political privileges to women, an action 'typical of western progressiveness.' The Maritimes, 'Stronghold of Conservatism,' afflicted by a 'weight of indifference' and an 'atmosphere of conservatism,' brought up the rear, at least for English Canada.39 Cleverdon's Maritime chapter is a classic example of begging the question and using emotive language to support a weak thesis. The suffrage movement in Canada, as Cleverdon portrays it, was a narrow middle-class crusade involving no more than a tiny minority of women in each province. This fact is mentioned as a neutral piece of information in the chapters on each of the other regions, but in the Maritimes the non-involvement of the majority of women becomes a critical factor in demonstrating regional conservatism. In her discussions of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia women, Cleverdon manages to use the words 'indifference' or 'indifferent' nine times, 'conservative' or 'conservatism' eight times, and adds, perhaps for stylistic variation, the terms 'disinterest,' 'apathy,' 'hostility,' 'contempt,' and 'ultraconservative.' What evidence is there to justify the thesis of a greater Maritime conservatism in women's rights? For New Brunswick and Nova Scotia before 1912 there seems to be none at all. Indeed, Maritime women appear to have led the agitation for admission to universities. In 1846 a pamphlet by a Halifax lady scathingly asked: 'Who gave you men the right to establish Colleges, and Universities, at which to educate your sons, in all the substantial sciences ... while woman, hedged about on every hand by the guardianship of a governess, is taught... the whole science of composing and scrawling

58 E.R. Forbes billet-doux after the most approved method ...?'4° A later pamphlet berated Joseph Howe for his failure to take up the cause, and in 1859 Mount Allison University admitted its first women students to a degree program. Most other Maritime universities soon followed. Cleverdon portrayed E.H. Stowe of Toronto as the heroic pioneer of the Canadian feminist movement, citing particularly her influence in securing the admission of women to the University of Toronto in 1886. This 'triumph' came eleven years after Mount Allison had granted the first bachelor of science degree awarded to a woman in the British empire.41 For Halifax, at least, the suffrage movement of the i88os and 18905 marked the culmination of nearly half a century of vigorous debate on women's place in society.42 And for those two decades the agitation in the two larger Maritime provinces followed a pattern similar to that of the other provinces - a pattern characterized by a plethora of bills, supported by a comparable number of petitions, and meeting an identical lack of success. Defeated in every province by the end of the 18908, the movement entered what Cleverdon called a 'breathing period' from which it would not emerge until 1912. The fact that Nova Scotia and New Brunswick women were tardy by two or three years in actually securing the vote hardly justifies the image of an all-pervasive indifference or hostility to the feminist movement arising from an innate regional conservatism. Morton and Cleverdon were but the first of many historians to invoke this stereotype as the explanation of supposedly deviant behaviour by Maritimers. Sometimes the evolution of the stereotype involved a co-operative effort by several historians. This seems to be the case in the field of labour history. A multi-volume series on Social Credit included D.C. Masters' study of the Winnipeg General Strike which suggested a greater militancy and radicalism among labour in western Canada. S.D. Clark's foreword to Masters' work took the process a step further by setting the One Big Union in 'the tradition of American frontier radicalism.'43 With the west more radical than Ontario, all that was needed was a conservative Maritimes to round out the familiar frontier model. In his survey of labour unrest in Canada, S.M. Jamieson initially shied away from the western myth by stressing the importance of the industries involved rather than the regions in which they were located. But when he came to the Maritimes he reverted to the traditional pattern. Since there was

59 In search of a post-confederation maritime historiography no research to indicate radical labour activity in the Maritimes outside of the coal-mining areas, he readily concluded that there was none. Maritime labour was 'exceedingly conservative in political and other orientations.'44 Certainly if he knew anything about Amherst's version of the One Big Union or the Trades and Labour Congress' expulsion of the Nova Scotia Federation of Labour in the reaction against industrial unionism, he made no mention of them.45 British Columbia's Martin Robin took the final step and excluded even the coal-miners on the assumption that nothing radical of a political nature involving labour had ever developed in the conservative Maritimes. Thus his Radical politics and Canadian labour omitted all mention of the protracted struggles between 'radicals' and 'progressives' for control of district 26 of the United Mine Workers (UMW) of America, the largest geographically cohesive block of organized labour in the country. In 1922 the radicals endorsed a program which included the statement that 'we proclaim openly to all the world that we are out for the complete overthrow of the capitalist system and capitalist state, peaceable if we may, forceable if we must,' and they elected their slate of candidates to the executive by majorities of approximately four to one.46 That the radicals did not succeed in their goal of linking up with the Red International and ultimately succumbed to a concerted effort of repression from the UMW International, the British Empire Steel Corporation, and the local government does not erase the significance of their victory. Labour in the Maritimes did not achieve a revolution, or even come close, but where in North America did they do so? Accumulated ignorance also contributed to the stereotype of religious conservatism in the Maritimes. First, the author of a University of Toronto MA thesis on the social gospel in the Methodist church suggested, without any reference to Maritime sources, that the social gospel had little impact on the church there. Stewart Crysdale and E.A. Christie noted the hostile response by the Halifax Presbyterian Witness to labour's tactics in the Winnipeg General Strike.47 Apparently guided by such comments, the western myth, and the overriding stereotype of Maritime conservatism, Richard Allen rashly concluded that the Maritimes was 'a part of the nation where the social gospel had made virtually no impact whatsoever.' Not only was this conclusion inconsistent with Allen's own thesis that the movement in Canada was a product of broad intellectual currents, but it ignored the fact that all of the

60 E.R. Forbes major Protestant denominations in the Maritimes formally endorsed social gospel principles and that clergymen from the Maritimes were active in the movement at the national level.48 Practical considerations, closely related to the theoretical, also inhibited the development of modern Maritime historiography. By their judgments and interests, historians influenced what archivists collected and the availability of source material in turn influenced historians' interests and the direction of their research. Since historians were primarily concerned with the early Maritimes, this was the period for which papers were collected, catalogued, and even published by the Public Archives of Nova Scotia, the New Brunswick Museum, and the Public Archives of Canada (PAC). Materials of a later period languished in private attics or government offices, forgotten or destroyed as fate might decree. In the late 19605 when this author sought the proceedings of the 1926 federal royal commission on Maritime claims, the archivists at the Public Archives of Nova Scotia and PAC had no idea where they were located. The former turned up a copy a few years later; the latter, according to a recent note in the Canadian Historical Review, located a set last year.49 The attitudes of historians found echo even in the archival finding aids. One such aid on the R.B. Hanson papers at the PAC informed the reader that only papers of national significance had been microfilmed; Hanson's legal papers and Maritime correspondence had been returned uncopied! It was particularly ironic that when two successive Nova Scotia archivists finally turned to a post-confederation topic, a biography of W.S. Fielding, it should block rather than facilitate the research of others; the Fielding papers, one of that archives' most important political collections, remained closed until the biography was completed. Thus, it is understandable that a historian undertaking the study of a national movement should gratefully seize upon the stereotype rather than attempt the difficult, expensive, and probably frustrating task of trying to locate the materials necessary to develop a genuine appreciation of the region. It is not the purpose of this paper to develop a new myth of a dynamic and progressive Maritimes. What I am trying to show is that we really know little about the Maritimes in the post-confederation period. Much of our so-called knowledge is highly suspect, having in many cases been deduced from the frontier myth supported by contemporary attitudes, or a repetition of the stereotype seized upon as a convenience by the researcher, who boggled at the task of having to open a neglected field as only a small part of a major

61 In search of a post-confederation maritime historiography study. With repetition in so many books on so many topics, the stereotype has become an accepted historical 'fact.' It should not be necessary to point out the danger of dealing in stereotypes, be they regional, racial, or national. It is not that the stereotype is entirely false, although that may be the case on occasion. The danger lies in an acceptance of a point of view in which fact and fiction are jumbled together without critical analysis. The term 'conservative' is particularly unfortunate since it is a comparative term which has little meaning unless the point of comparison is clearly indicated. In many cases 'conservative' was used by Atari timers themselves to compare the Maritimes, less to some other region, than to their own ideal of what their region should be. In this sense, the term becomes a statement of social criticism. That appears to be the way it was used in the various comments of Maritimers employed as evidence by Cleverdon. One suspects that there was also an element of social criticism in Beck's ringing indictment of Nova Scotia's leaders for their excessive caution in domestic legislation and their failure to protect regional interests at the federal level. Another danger of the stereotype, towards which historians in particular should be alert, is its static image which does not allow for chronological variation. Perhaps there were periods when a careful and specific comparison with other regions would show the Maritimes to be more conservative in certain respects. By the end of the 19308, for example, they had endured two decades of depression - one more than the rest of the country. Successive attempts at political and social protest had failed.50 Their people had reason to be pragmatic, cautious, and sceptical - especially of the ready solutions to their problems offered by outsiders. Thus it is perhaps not surprising that some Maritimers who lived through this period have been quick to brand people of their region as conservative and have found it difficult to imagine the optimism of an earlier age. Perhaps too it explains the comments of some visitors to the region in this period, although here one has to be careful that 'conservative' does not merely mean 'different' - something the outsider may in his arrogance not fully understand. The criticism given above is directed at the 'bad old days' of Canadian historiography. Canadian graduate studies are no longer under the control of a few 'great' men in one or two central Canadian universities, and no single journal can now pose as the arbiter of what constitutes 'national' significance in historical writing. In the 19608 student militancy and preoccupation with 'relevance' and the universities' concern for numbers swept many cobwebs

62 E.R.Forbes out of the system, making universities more responsive to student demands regarding curricula. This has contributed to expanding enrolment in Canadian courses, which tend to be offered earlier in the students' program and to focus more intensively on the modern period. Student interest has thus reinforced a focus on 'limited identities.'51 In the Maritimes, students reflect the continued desire by Maritimers to understand the society with which they most closely relate - a desire also suggested by the success of popular history on the region.52 During the expansion of Maritime universities in the late 19605 and early 19708, almost all hired regional specialists, nearly half of whom were working on the modern period. Archives have proliferated and benefited from the competition. A regionalized national museum encouraged work in the modern period. Both the articles and the review articles of a revived Acadiensis reflect a wide variety of approaches by regional scholars - approaches and ideas drawn from a broad international community. Any future study of Canadian or Maritime historiography will find much greater problems of organization than those encountered by Berger. But although the outlook of modern Maritimes studies is promising, the effects of the long period of neglect and stereotyping will continue to be felt for years to come. Many scholars working both within and outside the region now ignore the old stereotypes, basing their analysis on a rigorous assessment of evidence. But analysing the Maritimes is still no easy task, especially for those for whom that complex region is not a primary focus. It is still much easier to make a token reference to the stereotype, toss in a few anecdotes about quaint Maritime customs, and then shift the discussion back to the 'important' regions. More serious than such simple failings of human nature however, is the extent to which the stereotype of Maritime conservatism is embedded in the classics of Canadian historical literature. How can the student be expected to read such works without unconsciously absorbing the false picture of the Maritimes which they tend to convey? Obviously he or she cannot. Thus it becomes the duty of authors and teachers of Canadian history to force a critical assessment of the Maritime stereotype wherever it may be encountered. NOTES i The paper was originally presented at a session on Maritime historiography at the Atlantic Canada Studies Conference ('The Great Chautauqua,' Fredericton, April

63 In search of a post-confederation maritime historiography

2 3 4

5

6

7

8

9 10 11 12

1978). Professor Berger acted as chairman/commentator at the session. For an earlier discussion of Maritime historiography see G.A. Rawlyk, 'A new golden age of Maritime historiography?,' Queen's Quarterly LXXVI (1969): 56-65. Especially useful on the work of the last decade is a 1976 CBC radio production of five programs on the 'New History of Atlantic Canada' in the series 'This is Ideas' with David Frank as historical adviser. Naomi Griffiths, 'The Acadian deportation: a study in historiography and nationalism' (unpublished MA thesis, University of New Brunswick 1957), 3. Berger, The writing of Canadian history, 17. See also J.M.S. Careless, 'Frontierism, metropolitanism, and Canadian history,' CHR xxxv (1954): 1-21. In Chester Martin, Foundations of Canadian nationhood (Toronto 1955), the Maritimes receive no mention in the last 117 pages except for the usual brief note on the entry of Prince Edward Island into confederation. Chester Martin, The natural resources question: the historical basis of provincial claims (Winnipeg 1920). C.C. Lingard, Territorial government in Canada: the autonomy question in the old North-West Territories (Toronto 1949). L.H. Thomas, The struggle for responsible government in the North-West Territories (Toronto 1959). M.L. Hansen and J.B. Brebner, The mingling of the Canadian and American peoples (New Haven and Toronto 1969). L.B. Shippee, Canadian-American relations 1848-1874 (Toronto and New Haven 1939). C. Tansill, Canadian-American relations, 1875-1911 (Toronto and New Haven 1939). See A.R.M. Lower's Settlement and the forest frontier in eastern Canada (Toronto 1936), The North American assault on the Canadian forest (Toronto 1938), and Great Britain's woodyard (Toronto 1973). The North American assault did include a sketchy article-length survey of forest industries in the Maritimes after confederation by S.A. Saunders. H. Innis, The cod fisheries: the history of an international economy (New Haven 1940); V.C. Fowke, The National Policy and the wheat economy (Toronto 1957). That such a topic might have been extended to include a Maritime perspective is not as ridiculous as it might appear on the surface. Maritime development, especially that of its major cities, was fundamentally altered by an attempt to participate in both the National Policy and the wheat economy as Elizabeth McGahan's 'The port in the city: Saint John, N.B. (1867-1911) and the process of integration' (unpublished PHD thesis, University of New Brunswick 1979) demonstrates. The early writings of Frederick Jackson Turner (Essay Index Reprint Series, Freeport, N.Y. 1938), 211. Chester Martin, Foundations, 271-5. M.S. Cross, ed., The frontier thesis and the Canadas (Toronto 1970), I. H.N. Smith, Virgin land: the American west as symbol and myth (New York 1950), 293. In Frederick Jackson Turner, historian, scholar, teacher (New York 1973), Turner's biographer, R.A. Billington, stresses the 'indelible impressions' made by Turner's boyhood experiences in a frontier community and outlines the conjunction of circumstances which made his work popular. Not the least of these was the revolt

64 E.R. Forbes

13 14 15 16

17 18

19 20 21

22 23

of the midwest against the cultural domination of New England (pp. 17 and 112). To these factors Richard Hofstadter added the emotional needs of the progressives. 'At last the democratic middle-class reformers, especially those rooted in the agrarian traditions of the Middle West, were beginning to find a historical basis for their politics.' The progressive historians (New York 1968), 86. G.A. Friesen, 'Studies in the development of western regional consciousness' (unpublished PHD thesis, University of Toronto 1973), no. In 1919, Turner conceded the same point regarding the United States. Quoted in Billington, 112. Friesen, 'Studies in the development of western regional consciousness,' 109. See for example, Ralph Connor, The man From Glengarry (London 1901); R.J.C. Stead, The cowpuncher (Toronto 1918); Zane Grey, The light of the western stars (New York 1913); Zane Grey's more than two dozen novels, many of which explicitly developed the theme of the superiority and reforming influence of the western frontier, were available from T. Eaton catalogues on into the 19508. F.H. Underbill, The image of confederation (Toronto 1964), 63; also cited in Rawlyk, 'A new golden age,' 55. A.R.M. Lower, Canadians in the making (Toronto 1958), 358. In his autobiography Lower was more explicit. The Maritimes were 'the most conservative parts of English Canada ... It is in the less restless, less dynamic nature of their society that Maritimers differ from other parts of English Canada.' My first seventy-five years (Toronto 1967), 226. P.A. Buckner, 'Acadiensis n,' Acadiensis i (autumn 1971): 3-9. Busy East later became the Atlantic Advocate. R.V. Sharp, 'Do you know who we are,' Busy East of Canada (December 1919), 9-13. [H.S. Congdon], The Maritime provinces claim their rights under the act of confederation: the right of Maritime ports to the transatlantic trade of Canada ([Dartmouth 1923]); 'Proceedings of the Board of Railway Commissioners for Canada,' 1926, vol. 262, Public Archives of Canada (Cornell's findings received their widest distribution in Nova Scotia's published submission to the Duncan Commission); The Maritime provinces since confederation (Ottawa 1927); and The Maritime provinces in their relation to the national economy of Canada (Ottawa 1934, 1948). Sixteen major federal and provincial royal commissions investigated Maritime problems between 1925 and 1967. Each received up to several dozen submissions. G.E. Wilson, Robert Baldwin, a study in the struggle for responsible government (Toronto 1933). The comments on Wilson are based largely on recollections of his statements in lectures, which this author attended in 1965, and in his informal discussions with graduate students. Wilson loved his students but had little interest in the region in which they resided. 'Never did I think that my life would be spent in the Maritime Provinces,' he wrote in his autobiography. (G.E. Wilson, All for nothing ([Halifax] 1973), 39-40.) 'That was a part of the Dominion about which I knew little and cared less. All my life I had looked westward. Canada extended to the

65 In search of a post-confederation maritime historiography

24

25 26 27

28 29 30

31 32

Pacific and all movement was towards the sunset. The three Atlantic Provinces were a curious enclave that history had made part of the country but which were of little importance. It was the last place a boy raised in Ontario expected to go.' That he remained in the region more than half a century he attributed to 'lack of initiative' and the freedom from supervision or pressure to publish which he enjoyed at Dalhousie University. See also G.E. Wilson, 'Have I anything to declare?'. Royal Society of Canada, Transactions LVI, ser. 3 (1962): 81-92. R.S. Longley, Sir Francis Hincks, a study of Canadian politics, railways and finance in the nineteenth century (Toronto 1943). D.G.G. Kerr, Sir Edmund Head, a scholarly governor (Toronto 1954). Harvey began the project of a biography of W.S. Fielding which was later taken over by his successor at the Public Archives of Nova Scotia (PANS), C.B. Fergusson. See Carman Miller's review of the first volume of this work in Acadiensis i (spring 1972): 91-8. Harvey's papers at the PANS provide an extensive, although incomplete bibliography of his published works. J.C. Webster, The distressed Maritimes: a study of educational and cultural conditions in Canada (Ryerson essay no.35, Toronto 1926). G.F.G. Stanley, 'John Clarence Webster: the laird of Shediac,' Acadiensis, in (autumn I973) 5 59-60. A.G. Bailey, 'Origins of the study of history at the University of New Brunswick' (manuscript at UNB Department of History), 3, 23, supplemented by an interview with the author, April 1978. See also A.G. Bailey, 'Retrospective thoughts of an ethnohistorian,' Canadian Historical Association, Historical papers, 1977, 15-29. A.G. Bailey, Culture and nationality (Toronto 1972), chaps 5, 6, and 7. K.F.C. MacNaughton, The development of the theory and practice of education in New Brunswick, 1784-1900 (Fredericton 1947). Dawson was born and attended highschool in Bridgewater, Nova Scotia. He studied and later taught at Dalhousie University, one of several university appointments he held before entering the Department of Political Science at the University of Toronto in 1938. Progress-Enterprise (Lunenburg), 23 July 1958 (citation courtesy of Dr Ron Macdonald, who has investigated Dawson's career for the National Historic Sites and Monuments Board). See, for example, his treatment of Maritime attitudes on the tariff and the role of the 1926 Duncan Commission. Beck, The government of Nova Scotia, 340-1. According to Beck, under Murray 'the Ontario statute book became the utmost limits to which Nova Scotia might hope to aspire in many matters' (Beck, Government, 201; on Murray's caution, see 161-2, 166-7, 189-90, 202, 203, 204, 209, 257). The Murray government's program of technical vocational education, introduced in 1907, was reputed to be the first in Canada. Canadian Annual Review, 1907, 620-1 and Daily Echo (Halifax), 24 May 1913. While Murray's 'progressive' reforms were far from radical and were probably dictated more by the interests of capital than labour, in this, as the works of Gabriel Kolko, James Weinstein, and H.V. Nelles suggest, they conformed to a pattern which appears to have had few exceptions on the North American continent. See Gabriel Kolko, The triumph of conservatism (New York

66 E.R. Forbes

33

34

35 36 37 38 39

40

41

42

43

1963); James Weinstein, The corporate ideal in the liberal state, 1900-1918 (Boston 1968); H.V. Nelles, The politics of development: forests, mines and hydro-electric power in Ontario, 1849-1914 (Toronto 1974). Beck, Government, 170. While it is difficult to prove what threats may or may not have been made in the secrecy of cabinet and caucus, Maritime MPS did 'bargain tough' on several occasions. For example, in 1876 they appeared to have blocked the rising surge of protectionist sentiment in the national Liberal party and in 1884, after several separate caucuses and Macdonald's complaints of 'blackmailing,' secured a commitment to a CPR 'Short Line.' Naturally as their percentage of seats declined, the number of opportunities for them to exert such pressure declined accordingly. B.C. Thompson, Alexander Mackenzie: Clear Grit (Toronto 1960), 260; M.E. Angus, 'The politics of the Short Line' (unpublished MA thesis, University of New Brunswick 1958), 62, 67; and D.G. Creighton, John A. Macdonald: the old chieftain (Toronto 1968), 416 E.R. Forbes, 'Never the twain did meet: prairie-Maritime relations,' CHR nx (1978): 28. The terms 'conservative' and 'conservatism,' as employed by contemporaries and later historians, are negative and critical epithets equivalent to backward, cynical, timid, or unprogressive; any resemblance to any political or social philosophy living or dead is probably coincidental. Telegraph (Quebec), 12 Oct. 1926; MacLean's Magazine, 15 Oct. 1926. W.L. Morton, 'Clio in Canada: the interpretation of Canadian history,' in Carl Berger, ed., Approaches to Canadian history (Toronto 1967). W.L. Morton, 'The bias of prairie politics,' in Donald Swainson, ed., Historical essays on the prairie provinces (repr. Toronto 1970), 296. W.L. Morton, The kingdom of Canada (Toronto 1963), 445. C.L. Cleverdon, The woman suffrage movement in Canada ... (repr. Toronto 1974), see especially 24, 44, 49, and chap. 6. In his introduction, Professor Ramsay Cook did not help to correct the stereotype when he disenfranchised the women of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia until the 'early 19205' and then sought new reasons to account for their conservatism. Ibid., xv. Essays on the future destiny of Nova Scotia, improvement of female education, and on peace (Halifax 1846). The copy of a subsequent essay by 'An Anonymous Lady' which this author read in the open stacks of the Dalhousie University Library in 1965 had been inscribed with a quill pen 'by an insane female.' Unfortunately this pamphlet can no longer be located. R.S. Harris, A history of higher education in Canada, 1663-1960 (Toronto 1976), II; V.J. Strong-Boag, The parliament of women: the National Council of Women of Canada, 1893-1929 (Ottawa 1976), 12-13. Robert Sedgewick, The proper sphere and influence of women in Christian society (Halifax 1856). John Munro, The place and work of women in the church (Halifax 1877). J.S. David, A reply to the 'The place and work of women in the church' [Halifax n.d.]. Debates and proceedings of the House of Assembly of Nova Scotia, 1886, 506. D.C. Masters, The Winnipeg General Strike (Toronto 1950), viii.

67 In search of a post-confederation maritime historiography 44 S.M. Jamieson, Times of trouble: labour unrest and industrial conflict in Canada, 1900-66 (Ottawa 1968), 25, 100. 45 Nolan Reilly, The general strike in Amherst, Nova Scotia, 1919,' Acadiensis ix (spring 1980): 56-77. 46 Martin Robin, Radical politics and Canadian labour (Kingston 1968). Workers Weekly (Stellarton), 30 June, 25 Aug. 1922. 47 M.V. Royce, The contribution of the Methodist church to social welfare in Canada' (unpublished MA thesis, University of Toronto 1940), 238. E.A. Christie, The Presbyterian Church in Canada and its official attitude towards public affairs and social problems' (unpublished MA thesis, University of Toronto 1955), 73- Stewart Crysdale, The industrial struggle and the Protestant ethic in Canada (Toronto 1961), 83. 48 Richard Allen, The social passion: religion and social reform in Canada, 1914-1928 (Toronto 1971), no; see my extended review of the above in Acadiensis n (autumn 1972): 94-9, and E.R. Forbes, 'Prohibition and the social gospel in Nova Scotia,' Acadiensis i (autumn 1971): 15-19. 49 CHR LVIII (1977): 109. 50 E.R. Forbes, The Maritime Rights Movement: a study in Canadian regionalism (Montreal 1979). 51 J.M.S. Careless' 'Limited identities in Canada,' CHR L (1969): i-io, gave a kind of pontifical sanction to the process already underway. See also Michael Cross, 'Canadian history' in C.F. Klinck, The literary history of Canada (Toronto, and Buffalo 1976), m: 63-4. 52 Arthur T. Doyle's Front benches and back rooms ... (Toronto 1976) sold more than 7,000 copies in its first year of publication.

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LEWIS G. THOMAS

The writing of history in western Canada

Carl Berger's admirable book. The writing of Canadian history , is an essay in Canadian intellectual history of the first importance.1 But the student of western Canada might be excused if he came away with the feeling that Berger's study does not do justice to the writing of western Canadian history. Berger does say that Arthur S. Morton's major work 'advanced no generalized interpretations of Canadian history' but 'underlined the independent origins of Western Canadian history.'2 William L. Morton, to whom Berger devotes a chapter subtitled 'The delicate balance of region and nation,' he perceives as inheriting these traditions of 'independence' as well as the emphasis upon the importance for western Canada's development of its relationship to the British imperial framework.3 For Berger, primarily concerned 'with original conceptions that bore on the larger and central themes in Canadian history,' writing on the history of western Canada, except as it relates to these themes, might seem to be of peripheral importance.4 It is true that until recently comparatively little of scholarly importance has been written about the west's history. Yet Berger implies that W.L. Morton was an inheritor of a tradition, rooted not only in the University of Manitoba, but elsewhere among the university historians of the Canadian west. This paper attempts to examine the background and the collective experience of two generations of academic historians, who, domiciled in western universities, wrote about aspects of the region's history. The first generation of university historians in the west was composed of immigrants living and writing in an immigrant society. Professional historians were few in number: before 1950 the four western departments of history expanded slowly as a result of two wars, the period of recession

yo Lewis G. Thomas following World War I, and the depression of the 19308. Courses in history were often taught by professors whose qualifications in the discipline were questionable. At Alberta, for example. President Tory, a physicist and mathematician, offered the first course in English constitutional history.5 For much of this period, the historians, like their colleagues in other disciplines, were preoccupied with the creation of structures that were already in existence in central and eastern Canada. These structures were not only educational but extended into other aspects of community life. Academics played an active part in the churches and in the formation of a variety of associations, from intellectually oriented societies to golf clubs. Their extension work brought them into touch with rural communities far from Edmonton or Saskatoon.6 The first generation of western historians responded with enthusiasm and sympathy to the west, but in an age of relatively easy and rapid communication, they retained their affiliations with their native regions and with the transatlantic society which they saw as the cultural centre of Canada's world. In essence they were concerned to reinforce in the west the Canadian version of the Britannic society that had been imposed on the region by the preceding generation of English-speaking settlers. This was as much a matter of the way they lived as of what they taught and wrote. Though they were often sympathetic to western protest, they saw the solutions to western problems as Canadian solutions, consistent with the Canadian structure and ultimately beneficial to all regions and to humanity at large.7 They operated easily within the existing national network of social and cultural communication. It is not difficult to see them as part of the central Canadian garrison which maintained the outposts of the central Canadian empire in its far-flung hinterland. They shared fully in the 'sense of power' that Professor Berger has so perceptively described in this generation of Canadians.8 A preoccupation with garrison duties left little time for scholarly writing. Teaching loads were heavy, not so much in terms of student numbers as in the diversity of courses taught. The tutorial, though not formally instituted, was very much alive, for the Oxford influence was widespread in a small group that included a substantial number of Rhodes scholars.9 The students of men like Morden Heaton Long and George Malcolm Smith, two of the Alberta historians of this generation, could not complain of lack of attention to the importance of literary style and breadth of reading. History was seen, not as a means of entry to the practice of a professional discipline, but as an

71 The writing of history in western Canada essential part of a liberal education. The promising student was more likely to be directed towards the public service, at the peak of its prestige in the years between the wars, or towards a profession like law, an acceptable passport to political activity, than towards an academic career. As late as the 19308, Canadian history was still something of a poor relation in the intellectual community at large, although in western departments there was a growing disposition to treat it with respect. Not all the small number of academic historians were disposed, as was A.S. Morton, to recycle themselves in Canadian, let alone western Canadian, terms.10 Some of those who did, A.L. Burt and Chester Martin for example, did not remain in the west. Burt, however, did write a school text, and Martin made a substantial contribution to western history during his twenty years in Manitoba.11 Though their work, like that of A.R.M. Lower, who was at United College from 1929 to 1947, and who is a kind of bridge between two generations, shows evidence of their western experience, they responded to the nation rather than to the region. Arthur Silver Morton was thus exceptional; he and Walter N. Sage at the University of British Columbia, stand alone in their generation of western Canadian university historians.12 They not only wrote about the west but remained in the region to the end of their professional lives. Morton's dialogue was less with his western colleagues than with scholars in the United States and the United Kingdom, and with those in central Canada who shared his interests. Although several of his students contributed substantially to other areas of Canadian history, only Lewis H. Thomas has produced major works on western Canada.13 (He was also a student of A.L. Burt at Minnesota.) Perhaps the most notable of Morton's students, the late Hilda Neatby, had as her chief field of scholarly interest the history of French Canada, where Burt was her mentor, but in So little for the mind (Toronto 1953), her penetrating indictment of western educational policy, she made a stimulating contribution to the region's cultural history.14 S.D. Clark, another Morton student, moved into sociology, and the importance Berger gives Clark in his study may reflect the growing interest in the social history of the west.15 Though all the western university departments of history offered master's degrees from a fairly early date, and some significant theses were produced, the introduction of doctoral programs was long postponed. The resources available were held, with some justification, to be inadequate, but in retro-

72 Lewis G. Thomas spect it seems fair to say that the dominance of the Oxford tradition, with its sceptical view of the American graduate process, continued to inhibit the development of advanced study in history in the western departments until long after World War n. Historians like Morton thus lacked the important stimulus the direction of doctoral dissertations provides. The concentration on undergraduate teaching and the emphasis upon the appreciation of history, rather than on its production, created a climate in which pressure to publish was internal rather than external. Such pressure as did exist was more likely to be generated by a desire to escape from the west than by considerations related to a career in a western department. There is no question that the desire to publish the results of research at the doctoral level is important in generating scholarly books. With the possible exception of the writings of George Bryce, long associated with the University of Manitoba, and apart from Morton's and Sage's contributions, none of the significant scholarly works on the west that emerged before 1945 were by members of prairie departments of history who remained in the west.16 The teaching of history by the first generation did however bear fruit in the next generation. In 1936 George F.G. Stanley, a pupil of A.L. Burt and M.H. Long who went from the University of Alberta to Oxford, published The birth of western Canada.11 In 1963 he published Louis Kiel, the most distinguished biography of a western personality and a landmark in western historiography.18 In 1950 W.L. Morton, who had numbered among his teachers R.A. MacFarlane at Manitoba and Vincent Harlow at Oxford, published The Progressive party in Canada.19 The importance of his formidable contribution to Canadian history, not to mention the history of the Canadian west, needs no more than a mention at this point. In 1956 Lewis H. Thomas published The struggle for responsible government in the North-West Territories, 1870-97, and in 1958 Margaret A. Ormsby published British Columbia: a history.20 All four of these historians were born in the west, though Lewis H. Thomas spent most of his childhood out of the region. All received their undergraduate training at western universities. All studied outside the country, Stanley and Morton at Oxford, Ormsby and Thomas in the United States. Three - Stanley is the exception - spent a substantial part of their teaching careers at western universities.21 All have made major contributions to western history, not only in terms of publication and teaching, but also in administrative work related to the promotion of western Canadian history.

73 The writing of history in western Canada Lewis H. Thomas, for example, was instrumental in establishing a provincial archives in Saskatchewan that was far in advance of anything in the neighbouring provinces. All have been involved in the development of graduate study in the field. Stanley's involvement here might at first glance seem peripheral for reasons of domicile, but the standards set and the inspiration given by his work, and his unfailing support, interest, and wise advice have been of inestimable value. The second generation of western historians had a western undergraduate education in common. They also shared, and to say this violates a fundamental reticence of Canadian historiography, a close relationship to the western group that, in contrast to the prevailing stereotype of the homesteader, might be called 'the privileged settlers.'22 A clear perception of the role of this group may help to explain changes in the west's perception of itself. The hypothesis has been advanced elsewhere that Canada, a country of vast distances and a comparatively small population, has been pervaded and possibly held together by a network of private and personal lines of communication.23 These networks have not been satisfactorily described. John Porter in The vertical mosaic: an analysis of social class and power in Canada (Toronto 1965) and Peter Newman in The Canadian establishment (Toronto 1975) have sketched part of their upper and more visible surface but do not fully convey their extent or their complexity. Perhaps the existence of these networks must remain hypothetical until there is the analysis of the development of Canadian society that the current enthusiasm for social history promises. Yet the present trend in western history research seems to suggest that the establishment and maintenance of these networks was part of the process by which central Canada sought to create in its western hinterland a new polity in its own image.24 The central Canadian elite may even have built upon a foundation established in the days of the fur trade, at least once the colonizers realized that the west was not an entirely empty land. In shaping the new polity the privileged settler played a leading part; money, education, or social position gave him a head start and won for him the positions of influence for which he appeared to be equipped. This was not, in most cases, blatant nepotism. It was rather a sense that contiguity of social values guaranteed a commitment to the basic premises of colonial government. The superior person might be expected to support the maintenance of law and order, to have a due respect for property, and even to feel a sense of responsibility for the less fortunate. The privileged settler saw him-

74 Lewis G. Thomas self, or at least posed, as the conservator of British tradition, perhaps a gentler, and certainly a more genteel, tradition than that which was seen as infusing the westward movement of settlement in the republic to the south. The privileged settler retained his relationships with central Canada, or, if his roots were elsewhere, established where necessary a working relationship with the central Canadian elite. All these relationships could be contained within the Britannic tradition. Nowhere was this gentle tradition more firmly established than in the young universities of the west. Communication is fundamental to the academic process. The academic is sensitive to charges of parochialism or provincialism. He may often be quicker than many of his fellow parishioners or provincials to recognize the accuracy of such charges against his immediate environment. In his relatively sheltered situation he is under less pressure than most to conform to changes in values dictated by change in the balance of forces in the society around him. As a conservator of values he may observe and even deplore what he perceives as perversion rather than change. He becomes a critic of his society, without rejecting that society. Though he is alienated from what he perceives as its vices, he retains his attachment to its familiar virtues. In the writings of the second generation of western historians the element of social criticism is conspicuous. It is least so in the writings of Stanley, perhaps because he alone of the four has not been domiciled in the west since he graduated from the University of Alberta, or perhaps because his works deal largely with the earlier period of western settlement. Even so, his Louis Kiel is an effective indictment of the national impact upon the western community. Lewis H. Thomas has certainly not seen the colonial relationship between the west and central Canada as conspicuously happy in its effects on the region. The subtlety of Margaret Ormsby's social criticism makes its penetration all the deeper, and the working out in detail of her profound insights charts a course for a later generation of historians of British Columbia. W.L. Morton's devotion to Manitoba does not ignore the darker side of the history of his native province. This delineation of the weaknesses of western society is the more effective in that it is made from within, by writers who make no secret of their affection for the region. Their criticism is made within a Canadian framework, but the nature of the relationship between the west and the centre is clearly a cause, though not the only cause, for their unease. To say that they

75 The writing of history in western Canada work within a Canadian framework is not to say that they commit themselves unchangeably to a Canadian structure eternally dominated by a powerful centre. Professor Berger has aptly subtitled his chapter on W.L. Morton, 'the delicate balance of region and nation.'25 The concern that Morton feels is shared by his contemporaries. Berger projects Morton against a western Canadian experience that is still largely unexplored. This exploration is the task to which a third generation of western historians is addressing itself with vigour and imagination, often stimulated by the insights of Morton himself. In the second generation, there was not enough scholarly activity to counteract the disposition to see stereotypes borrowed from the popular version of the history of the United States west. David Breen has shown this effectively in relation to the history of ranching in Alberta. This insistence upon an American stereotype has persisted to the present. Discussing the development of Western Canada during the eighteen-eighties, W.S. MacNutt presents the traditional picture. He asserts that "Calgary itself was an outpost of the cattle industry from over the border" and that the "ragged band" of ranchers about Fort Macleod made that town "Canada's best version of a wild west."'26 Though the growth of a popular sentiment that Canada ought to have an interesting history brought attempts to assert the uniqueness of the Canadian west, these attempts were more descriptive than analytical and borrowed stereotypes again crept in. Compare, for example, the earlier accounts of the Mounted Police with R.C. Macleod's scholarly study.27 Consider the attempts to make Louis Kiel into a Canadian substitute for Davy Crockett or Daniel Boone. The third generation is putting the hypothesis of uniqueness to a searching test. The continuation of the process of testing hypotheses, Morton's included, will gradually create new ways of looking at the region. Meanwhile the light that Morton's work has shed will illuminate the paths that he has opened. It is no fault of Berger that some of his judgments on Morton are not universally accepted. Those who agree that cultural and ethnic pluralism was central to Morton's Manitoba may not accept the view that 'the idea of a pluralistic mosaic ... is a one-sided generalization of the past.'28 Integration may be almost complete, though an Indian or a metis might be dubious. Earlier acceptance by westerners of cultural difference, qualified and circumscribed though that acceptance was, may nevertheless have made the process leading to integration less painful and destructive than it might have

j6 Lewis G. Thomas been. Much more must be written about the experience of the non-charter groups in the west, and a good deal more about that of the charter groups, before there can be such confident dismissal of one of Morton's primary postulates. The perspectives of history shift inevitably from one generation to another. The post-war west is radically different from the west before 1939. The dominance of the Anglo-Protestant element is no longer as conspicuous. The level of material prosperity is high enough to accommodate the aspirations of a much larger proportion of the population. The process of assimilation to a North American norm has advanced to a degree that is, at least in material terms, decisive. Differences in ethnic heritage have, for those of European origin, ceased to coincide with differences in a standard of living measured in material terms. These trends were much less visible before 1945. The privileged settler who arrived before 1914 from central or eastern Canada, or from the United Kingdom, brought with him models of the good life he was not disposed to discard, even under the pressures generated by a harsh but, for him, a generally tolerable environment. Sustained by privilege and aided by easy and rapid communication with the societies from which he came, he passed these models on to the next generation, the one that included the second generation of western historians. By 1945, however, the ranks of the comfortable had been vastly expanded by recruits from groups which had originally enjoyed fewer advantages of language, education, material means, or social position. The process of assimilation and time have consequently modified the earlier models. The first generation had been sustained by the confidence of participation, through the British connection, in a Europecentred world. Although the second generation had not quite the unquestioning confidence of those whose outlook had been framed before 1914, for the privileged westerner between the wars civilization still had a European, not a North American, focus. London was still the capital of the world, not New York, not Boston, certainly not Toronto. To this view of the world from the Canadian west, those who had no family ties with the Canadian provinces to the east were particularly prone. But even those who had such ties were disposed to maintain aspirations, equally inspired by a Britannic model, not radically dissimilar from those of the generation of colonizers who had arrived before 1914 from eastern Canada. The privileged westerner, in so far as he had any resentments to direct

77 The writing of history in western Canada against a metropolis, turned them against central Canada. His relatives and friends there were much more likely to perceive the British relationship as hampering Canadian aspirations to a fully realized national status. Though the social, economic, and political influence of the United States pervaded the west, it was met by an established transatlantic presence, rooted in the shape of western development and refreshed and renewed by new arrivals and by the maintenance of old associations. For the dominant minority in the west, Ontario or New Brunswick might well seem more American than Alberta or British Columbia, and its members knew as much, or more, of the history, the literature, and even the geography of the British Isles as of those of the eastern provinces. The model of the good life that the privileged settlers brought with them, and to some extent realized in the half century after the west entered confederation, survived the depression and World War n. As adaptations were made to meet the demands of a new environment, it underwent a process of modification that was continuous from the moment they arrived. In the interwar period, beginning as it did in post-war recession and ending in depression and a renewal of international conflict on a world scale, opportunities for conspicuous consumption were limited. The halting pace of economic development in the west produced plenty of western protest, but this was aimed less at the privileges of a western elite than at external targets, notably in central Canada. In the collective memory, shared deprivation plays a larger part than resentment of local economic and social inequities. The view of the 19205 and 19305 put forward in much of the popular history now being published, although it scarcely exaggerates the miseries of the depression, largely ignores the fact that, though many privileged westerners became poorer, a substantial minority of westerners were comfortably removed from anything that could accurately be described as desperate poverty. One of the tasks of the university historian, one on which at least a beginning has been made, will be to put forward a more subtly shaded portrait of western society between the wars. The three decades of relative prosperity that followed 1945 markedly changed the model of the good life. In no aspect of western society is there a larger differentiation between the pre-war and post-war periods than in the relation to that society of the ethnic groups. For most of these groups effective integration is complete, or so Professor Berger says.29 'Integration' is a more appropriate word than 'assimilation,' with its implications of

78 Lewis G. Thomas absorption and digestion. Another challenge to the university historian is to make some assessment of the impact of the process of integration on the values of western society. The orientation of the model of the good life towards a Britannic ideal is no longer sustained by the old confidence in British influence. In the affluent west of today, the shift of obvious power across the Atlantic is reflected in a modification of the model in the American direction. Neimann Marcus has more to offer than Bond Street or the rue de la Paix. This tendency is by no means confined to the west, or to Canada, but one wonders whether the presence of the ethnic groups so eased the passage towards homogenization that, while comfortably accommodating what is called multiculturalism, the west finds a bicultural concept of Canadian nationality unacceptable. These changes profoundly affected the universities after 1945. Easier access as a result of the new affluence, and the widespread conviction that a university degree and acceptable employment were intimately related, meant that western history departments faced an unprecedented expansion in student numbers. Yet the departments grew slowly. At Alberta the fact that two members of the complement of four had been absent on war service and the protracted illness of G.M. Smith complicated the making of new appointments. In any case, after fifteen years of depression and war, there were few candidates with adequate qualifications. The emphasis on undergraduate teaching remained, and, as the tide of veterans receded, it was difficult to persuade administrations, let alone government, that additional appointments were necessary to cope with diminishing student numbers. In 1957 the department of Alberta received one additional member which brought its complement to only five. The department introduced a course in the history of the Canadian west in 1949 and supervised a number of MA theses in that field. Local library and archives facilities, however, remained decidedly limited. By 1957 the department had begun a process of expansion that ended only recently. Mindful of its long-standing commitment to undergraduate teaching, it reorganized its honours program. At the same time it responded to the increasing demand for advanced graduate training, not only in Canadian history but in a variety of fields. It produced its first PHD in 1964 and its first in a field specifically related to the Canadian west in 1967. With the publication of Professor T.D. Regehr's The Canadian Northern Railway, pioneer road of the northern prairies, 1895-1918 (Toronto 1976), the study of western

79 The writing of history in western Canada Canadian history at one western university could be said to have achieved some degree of maturity. Other western departments will have different landmarks and view their achievements in different ways but the experience of Alberta may be useful as illustration. The expansion of the 19608 produced a favourable atmosphere for serious study of the western Canadian experience, and the stimulus was felt not only by the second generation of western historians but by their students. The third generation of historians of the west has long since begun to publish and their re-examination of the western field is part of the continuing dialogue of scholarship. That re-examination is not merely of parochial or regional interest; monographs like Regehr's (and Macleod's on the Mounted Police) respond as much to the collective Canadian experience as to that of the west. The process of re-examination is continuous but it takes time, and the new insights it generates are absorbed only slowly into the scholarly perception of the larger national history. Perhaps the terms 're-examination' and 'revision,' applicable though they are to Berger's incisive and provocative analysis of the historiography of English-speaking Canada, are less satisfactory when applied to what is going on in western Canadian history. There the third generation of historians appears to be engaged in what may more aptly be characterized as a further exploration of their chosen field. They are also writing out of an experience significantly different from that of their elders. Berger has observed that 'the concerns and preconceptions' of the historian's own world 'constantly interject themselves into the complex dialogue between the living and the dead.'30 The Canadian west of the third generation of western historians was a different west from that in which the first generation had written and the second had been educated. This difference is reflected in much of what is now being written. Berger's book has already become part of the experience of the Canadian historian, wherever that historian centres his interest. His analysis reflects the centralist preoccupation of English-speaking historians. In view of the task he has set himself it could scarcely do otherwise. In his recognition of the importance of the work of W.L. Morton, he responds to the sense of the regional historian that the regions ought to be recognized as active forces in Canadian history, that national history cannot be understood in terms of the history of central Canada alone. The difficulties that he finds with some of Morton's concepts suggest that much of the history of

8o Lewis G. Thomas the west remains to be written. The experience of the ethnic groups and their impact on the west has, for example, been explored only sketchily by professional historians. Morton's perception here challenges analysis in depth. Berger's treatment of his historians reveals the paucity of materials for the student of Canadian intellectual history. Berger remains well within the tradition of reticence that shrouds the personalities of Canadian historians as effectively as it does those of their subjects. It seems extraordinary that he can discuss the work of W.L. Morton without any reference to his Anglicanism. Yet how far is it possible, given the resources available for the investigation of the social, intellectual, and cultural history of Canada, for any scholar to perceive and accurately represent the relationship between a Canadian intellectual and the tradition in which he is nurtured? The third generation of western historians, exploring the implications of Morton's insights, may well find themselves drawn in unexpected directions. If they follow his lead, the western historical landscape may be much enriched and the historical map made easier to read. Another historian in another generation may attempt to illuminate the historiography of western Canada as Professor Berger has illuminated the history of English Canadian historical writing. His task will be eased if the limited identities to which Morton attaches such importance have been fully explored.31 As I interpret Berger, the limited degree to which Canadian identities have been explored constituted his greatest difficulty in writing about interpretations of the collective entity. Morton, in his appreciation of the importance of identities, and his skill in representing them, thus takes his place in the continuity of Canadian historiography and, more than his predecessors, in Berger's view, offers a tentative hinge for the future. He, and his contemporaries among western historians, have not written as if they accepted the view that their region's history is simply an account of what central Canada has done to it. The regions have a history of their own, which is an indispensable part of Canadian history - in the interaction between the regions, and between the region and the nation. NOTES I Carl Berger, The writing of Canadian history: aspects of English-Canadian historical writing, 1900-1970 (Toronto 1976).

81 The writing of history in western Canada 2 Arthur S. Morton, A history of the Canadian west to 1870-71 (1st ed., London [1939]; 2nd ed., Lewis G. Thomas, ed., Toronto 1973). Berger, The writing of Canadian history, 241. 3 Berger, The writing of Canadian history, 240-1. 4 Ibid., ix. 5 Lewis H. Thomas, The renaissance of Canadian history: a biography of A.L. Bun (Toronto and Buffalo 1975), 12. 6 See E.A. Corbett, Henry Marshall Tory, beloved Canadian (Toronto 1954), 123-9, f°r a description of early extension work at the University of Alberta. 7 A.S. Morton, A history of the Canadian west, 870-920. Morton's account of the disturbances in the Red River Settlement, 1869-70, is notably sympathetic to Riel and critical of the Canadian government. As Berger points out ( The writing of Canadian history, 38), Chester Martin was sympathetic to western claims for control of natural resources. 8 Carl Berger, The sense of power: studies in the ideas of Canadian imperialism, 1867-1914 (Toronto 1970). 9 Departments of history at the western universities were small even after 1945. In the 19208 and 19308 the four departments would have been hard pressed to muster twenty historians. Among the Rhodes scholars who served for significant periods before 1939 were Walter N. Sage and D.C. Harvey at the University of British Columbia; A.L. Burt, G.S. Fife, M.H. Long, and G.M. Smith at Alberta; C.W. Lightbody at Saskatchewan; Chester Martin, D.C. Harvey and W.L. Morton at Manitoba. H.N. Fieldhouse, born in Gibraltar in 1900 and educated at Sheffield and Oxford, was at Manitoba, 1928-45. 10 A.S. Morton, A history of the Canadian west, 2nd ed., xxii. 11 Lewis H. Thomas, The renaissance of Canadian history, I2lff. A.L. Burt, The romance of the prairie provinces (Toronto 1930). Chester Bailey Martin, Lord Selkirk's work in Canada (Oxford 1916); The natural resources question: the historical basis of provincial claims (Winnipeg 1920). Martin also collaborated with A.G. Doughty on the introduction to The Kelsey papers (Ottawa 1929). His 'Dominion lands' policy appeared, with A.S. Morton's History of prairie settlement, as part of volume 2, Canadian frontiers of settlement (Toronto 1938). Martin moved to the University of Toronto in 1929. 12 Walter N. Sage was born in London, Ontario, in 1888. He was a Rhodes scholar, a lecturer at Calgary College in 1913, and, from 1918 until his retirement in 1953, at the University of British Columbia, where he was head of the department after 1932. 13 Lewis Herbert Thomas, The struggle for responsible government in the North-West Territories, 1870-97 (Toronto 1956); The University of Saskatchewan, 1909-1959 (Saskatoon 1959); The renaissance of Canadian history: a biography of A.L. Burt (Toronto 1975). He edited William Aberhart and Social Credit in Alberta (Toronto 1977), and Essays on western history (Edmonton 1976), as well as writing numerous articles. 14 Two American students of Burt at Minnesota made significant contributions to western Canadian studies: Paul F. Sharp, The agrarian revolt in western Canada; a survey

82 Lewis G. Thomas

15 16

17 18 19

20

21

22

23

showing American parallels (Minneapolis 1948); Whoop-up country: the CanadianAmerican west, 1865-1885., 2 vols. (Minneapolis 1955); and Alvin C. Gluek, Jr, Minnesota and the Manifest Destiny of the Canadian northwest: a study in CanadianAmerican relations (Toronto 1965). Berger, The writing of Canadian history, 163-9. Walter N. Sage, Sir James Douglas and British Columbia (Toronto 1930) is his bestknown work. I am referring in this sentence to the editorial work and introductions to volumes published by the Champlain Society and the Hudson's Bay Record Society by J.B. Tyrrell, LJ. Burpee, G.P.deT. Glazebrook, R.H. Fleming and E.E. Rich; to the writings of H.A. Innis, particularly A history of the Canadian fur trade (London 1923), The fur trade in Canada (New Haven 1930), and Peter Pond (Toronto 1930); and to the work of American scholars, such as F. Merk, G.L. Nute, C.M. Gates and E. Coues; and to the volumes in the Canadian Frontiers of Settlement series. G.F.G. Stanley, The birth of western Canada: a history of the Kiel rebellions (ist ed., London 1936; 2nd ed., Toronto 1960). G.F.G. Stanley, Louis Kiel (Toronto 1963). W.L. Morton, The Progressive party in Canada (Toronto 1950) was vol. I in the series, Social Credit in Alberta; its background and development. For Morton's career, see Berger, The writing of Canadian history., 238ff. Margaret A. Ormsby, British Columbia: A history (Toronto 1958). Miss Ormsby (BA 1929, MA 1931) went from the University of British Columbia, where she was a pupil of Sage and F.H. Soward, to Bryn Mawr. From 1943 until her recent retirement as head of the department of history, she was at the University of British Columbia. Stanley was at the University of British Columbia, 1946-48, and at the Royal Military College, Kingston, Ont. 1949-69. Morton was at the University of Manitoba and its affiliated colleges, 1935-66; Lewis H. Thomas was provincial archivist of Saskatchewan, 1948-57, at the University of Saskatchewan, Regina, 1957-64, and at the University of Alberta since 1964; Dr Ormsby was at the University of British Columbia 1943-77. I have tentatively explored the role of 'the privileged settlers' in an unpublished paper first read at the University of Guelph, November 1977. W.L. Morton grew up in a reasonably prosperous rural Manitoba, in the third generation of his family's experience there. His father was a member of the Manitoba legislature. L.H. Thomas, the son of a Methodist minister, spent his boyhood in his father's parishes in the Maritimes and Bermuda. He later lived with relations in Saskatoon. Stanley spent his youth in southern Alberta, much of it in the prospering city of Calgary and in a circle where the influence of the Anglican Cathedral, Western Canada College, and St Hilda's School was still strong. Dr Ormsby's parents grew fruit in the Okanagan, a region strongly influenced by the traditions of its genteel settlers from the United Kingdom. They were thus all from backgrounds where traditions of education and of civic and social responsibility were well rooted. Lewis G. Thomas, 'Associations and communications,' Canadian Historical Association, Historical papers, 1973.

83 The writing of history in western Canada 24 This is an impression derived from an acquaintance with the work of a number of students in the field, some of it unpublished. Among recent works of major importance I would cite R.C. Macleod, The North-West Mounted Police and law enforcement, 1873-1905 (Toronto 1975). 25 Berger, The writing of Canadian history, 238-58. 26 David H. Breen, The Canadian west and the ranching frontier, 1875-1922' (unpublished PHD thesis, University of Alberta 1972), 3. Breen is quoting W.S. MacNutt, 'The l88o's,' in J.M.S. Careless and R. Craig Brown, eds., The Canadians, 1867-1967 (Toronto 1967), 83-4. 27 See note 24, above. 28 Berger, The writing of Canadian history, 257. 29 Ibid. 30 Ibid., ix. 31 Though this concept of 'identities' runs through most of Morton's work, the reader is referred particularly to The Canadian identity (Madison, Wis., and Toronto 1961).

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T.W. ACHESON

The great merchant and economic development in Saint John, 1820-1850

One of the liveliest debates in recent Canadian business history has centred on the role of the nineteenth-century merchant in promoting or retarding the development of a locally controlled British North American industrial base. Supporters of the retardation theory usually argue that the colonial merchant was nurtured in a system based upon the export of raw and semi-finished produce and the import of fully manufactured materials. Dominating the ports and the transportation systems of British North America, he became the principal defender of the economic status quo, viewing any substantial rearrangement of economic relations as a threat to his world. Thus he remained the harbinger of a form of economic colonialism which bound the destiny of British North America and of the forming Dominion of Canada in a subservient relationship to more advanced national economies, particularly those of the United Kingdom and the United States. Opponents of this theory have accepted the primacy of the merchant in the colonial economies but have argued that the gulf separating the merchant from other dynamic elements in the business community was less wide than the retardationists would have us believe. They maintain that the dramatic shift from commercial to industrial emphases and from external to internal markets in the last half of the nineteenth century occurred with the consent and participation of this dominant commercial element.1 There are several difficulties within this general argument. One of the most basic concerns the definition of'merchant.' The meanest cordwainer in Reprinted with minor editorial changes from Acadiensis vm (spring 1978): 3-27, by permission.

86 T.W. Acheson the mid-nineteenth century offered his shoes for sale to the general public; conversely, many important shippers and wholesalers owned, in whole or in part, the means to process the basic staple commodities of their region. Even a restricted use of the term leaves a group of businessmen involved in a variety of commercial, financial, and transportation functions. In colonial Saint John, for example, 'merchant' was a legal status conferred on certain men at the time of their admission to the freedom of the city. Within the hierarchy of occupations eligible to be freemen, that of merchant was clearly the most important, and this importance was reflected in the fees required of those admitted to the status. Although a merchant might also be a sawmill owner, a legal and social line was clearly drawn between merchants possessing a sawmill and sawmill owners by occupation whose status was lower. Moreover, there were a number of commercial functions characteristically performed by merchants, including the importing and wholesaling of produce, the export of fish and wood products, the transport of other people's goods, the purchase of staples on other people's accounts, the sale and auction of other people's goods, private banking, and acting as agents or directors for chartered banks and fire, marine, and life insurance companies. In village business, a single merchant might have exercised most of these functions; the most successful urban merchants were those who focused their efforts on three or four. In time, the development of competing interests sharply limited the issues on which merchants were able to speak as a class or community. Indeed, on many issues, it is doubtful whether colonial boards of trade and chambers of commerce spoke for anything more than one of several elements within the business community. Another important question raised by the retardation debate concerns the extent to which 'normal' merchant behaviour was modified by the local environment. There can be little doubt that all merchants in British North America responded to short-term opportunities and that only rarely were they willing to sacrifice these opportunities on the altar of national, colonial, or civic interest.2 Yet, over time, a merchant became attached to the community in which he lived, and his response to opportunity became conditioned by the idiosyncracies of the local economy, the nature of the relationship between the local and metropolitan economies, and the impact of the economic cycle in reducing the short-term profitability of existing relationships. Any final assessment of the merchant's role in the economic development of British North America will therefore have to await the completion of a num-

87 The great merchant and economic development in Saint John her of case studies of individual communities and firms.3 This paper is an attempt to explore the role of the merchant in the economic development of colonial Saint John. The city affords an interesting case study both because of its size-in 1840 it was the third largest urban centre in British North America - and because of the central role played by the trade in timber and deals in its economic life. Traditionally the central problem in the study of the economy of Saint John has been the failure of the city to make the necessary adjustments to compensate for the dislocations occasioned by the stagnation of the wood trade following confederation. Recently, Peter McClelland has put the date of that stagnation back to mid-century, arguing that the shipbuilding industry, the most dynamic element in the provincial economy after 1850, added little to the well-being or growth of that economy.4 McClelland has highlighted the role of New Brunswick businessmen in this problem by demonstrating the tenacity with which they stood behind the wooden shipbuilding industry, investing perhaps $8 million between 1870 and 1879 in a technology which was effectively obsolete.5 These businessmen failed to make the transition to metal ships or to establish backward linkages from the shipbuilding industry - particularly those relating to the outfitting of ships and the manufacture of chains and anchors - which could develop in time into significant industries. McClelland has explained this failure in terms of 'the absence of alternatives capable of giving to regional growth the sustaining force which timber was losing' after i850.6 But even if it is admitted that shipbuilding was unable to play this dynamic role - a thesis that is much more compelling in 1870 than in 1840 - McClelland offers scant evidence to prove that manufacturing, and to a lesser extent fishing and agriculture, could not have contributed a dynamic element to the regional economy. To support his contention, he is forced to argue that they could not because they did not, an idea grounded in the assumption that by mid century New Brunswick was backward relative to other colonial economies. To demonstrate this position McClelland offers an analysis of the output of New Brunswick and Ontario agriculture 'tt the end of the nineteenth century, and points to the inability of some New Brunswick producers of consumer goods to compete with central Canadian producers on the central Canadian market in the post-confederation period. Much of this can be demonstrated for 1890, but it all presumes that what was true at that time must have been true a half-century earlier, and that the absence of a particular resource, say coal,

88 T.W. Acheson must preclude the development of any industry which employed that resource. The doubts raised by the ahistorical nature of this analysis are heightened by the persistence with which the provincial business community pursued and supported the wood trade and the wooden ship, even in the face of a technological obsolescence which by 1870 was obvious to all observers. This persistence suggests a commitment to a declining economic base understandable in the small resource-based village economies of much of the province, but more difficult to comprehend in the context of the complex, differentiated economy that existed in Saint John. Indeed, the continuance of these forms of activity and the failure of other kinds of development to occur may have been more the result of human factors than the absence of any particular material resource. Certainly Saint John in the colonial period possessed considerable potential. In 1840 the city had a population of about 27,000. Its merchants possessed a monopoly of the commerce of the Saint John River valley and its tributaries, a market of nearly 100,000 people. They also dominated the commercial life of the Bay of Fundy counties of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, containing another 90,000 people.7 The population of the Saint John River valley exceeded that of the Home District of Upper Canada, while the city's whole market area compared favourably with the Quebec City district of Lower Canada.8 By 1840 shipbuilding had been an important feature of the city's economy for two full generations, and the Saint John industry was clearly the most significant in British North America.9 In addition, a substantial and diversified manufacturing sector, designed to service both the timber trade and the growing consumer market of the area, had emerged over the previous two decades, a development reflected in the strong labour movement which had become an important feature of city life in the years following the War of 1812.10 By 1840 Saint John was marked as a growth centre with a distinct advantage over any other community in the Atlantic region. And this is of special significance because nineteenth-century manufacturing growth tended to be cumulative: as James Gilmour has demonstrated in his study of the spatial evolution of manufacturing in Ontario, early leaders generally improved their advantage over other communities.11 In many ways the decade of 18405 was the most critical of the colonial period. It witnessed the collapse of the preferences for colonial timber on the British market, a disaster which Saint John businessmen were able to over-

89 The great merchant and economic development in Saint John come mainly by making the transition from the export of timber to the export of deals. The trade in wood products reached its largest volume in that period and thereafter stagnated; the economy of the province grew increasingly dependent in the 18508 on the still further processing of wood into ships and their sale on the British market. The abrogation of the old colonial system was marked by several short-term economic downturns which severely mauled the wood trades and raised serious doubts about the viability of an economy based upon them. From our vantage point, one could argue that any group which persisted in subordinating all other interests to the needs of an already failing industry can be perceived as contributing to the retardation of the provincial economy at a critical juncture in its history. If, by virtue of their influence within the political framework of the colony and their control of the principal sources of capital, merchants were able to promote or to inhibit certain kinds of development, then their role in determining the economic destiny of the city and its hinterland was as important as the presence or absence of any specific resources. The study which follows will test this hypothesis in the context of merchant behaviour in the city of Saint John between 1820 and 1850. It will do so by examining the extent and nature of merchant wealth and the role of leading merchants in promoting or opposing development strategies in the first half of the nineteenth century. A major problem is the sheer size of the city's merchant community. During the colonial period, about 800 men held the legal status of merchant and a number of others illegally participated in merchant functions. There were large numbers of transients whose residency in the city was confined to a few years, and even larger numbers of minor businessmen whose sole claim to the status of merchant seems to have been their role as small-scale importers. Their impact on the commercial life of the city was marginal and any attempt to include them in a study of this nature - even if sufficient information were available - could seriously distort its purpose. At the other extreme the council of the Chamber of Commerce provides a definite group of influential merchants but it might represent only one faction of important merchants. To overcome both of these difficulties an effort was made to determine which merchants played important roles in the commercial and public life of the city and province over a number of years. The criteria used in the selection included ownership of significant shipping, wharfing, and waterfront facilities, directorships of important financial agencies, public esteem and

90 T.W. Acheson influence as manifested in the press and in public documents, public service, and personal wealth. Although the final decision of who to include is both arbitrary and subjective, for the purpose of this study forty leading commercial figures have been identified as 'great' merchants. Members of this group comprehended a variety of commercial interests, but all participated in vital shipping and financial concerns of the port and all possessed substantial personal resources. Their influence stemmed not only from this control over most of the city's financial resources, but also from their ability to create a climate of public opinion which identified their interests with the welfare of the community at large, and from their access to the political institutions of the colony.12 The group included twenty-nine men who held the legal status of merchant, four mariners, two grocers, one fisherman, one clerk, and three who were not freemen of the city.13 The great merchants were drawn from all elements within the broader community, but the most numerous were those of Loyalist or pre-Loyalist origins. Several, notably Ezekiel and Thomas Barlow, Noah Disbrow, Ralph Jarvis, John Ward, Stephen Wiggins, and John M. and R.D. Wilmot, were scions of important Loyalist merchant families. Several others, such as Nehemiah Merritt and Thomas and William Leavitt, were children of frugal Loyalist fishermen. Still a third group was the Simonds connection, the principal landed interest in the province, which included the pre-Loyalist, Charles Simonds, and the two fortunate young Loyalists who married his sisters, Thomas Millidge and Henry Gilbert. Equally as important as the natives were the British immigrants. By far the most significant were the Scots, Lauchlan Donaldson, John Duncan, James Kirk, Hugh Johnston, John Robertson, and John Wishart, who greatly outnumbered the Protestant Irishmen, John Kinnear and William Parks.14 All of these immigrants were the offspring of prosperous families and came to the colony as young men of substance, bringing with them at least some capital resources. From positions of comparative advantage in the early nineteenth century, these merchants rode the crest of the timber trade to wealth by the 18408. Virtually all were involved, to some degree, in the timber trade itself. Frequently they shipped timber which their crews had harvested. More often they bought timber or deals from the producer or took them in trade. Sometimes they would ship them on consignment to the British market. Rarely was timber merchandising a single activity. Usually it was part of a pattern of business endeavour which included the wholesaling and retailing of British and

91 The great merchant and economic development in Saint John American imports, coastal shipping, and the purchase, use, and sale of sailing vessels.15 Central to the business activity of all leading merchants was involvement in or ownership of one or more of the three vital elements in city commerce: the banking system, the wharves of the port, and the ships. Most sat on the directorates of at least one of the three local public banks or the local advisory committee of the Bank of British North America.16 Indeed, given the centrality of credit to the commercial system of the province, it was unthinkable that any substantial local firm would not have easy access to the financial stability which the banks offered, an access ultimately controlled by the bank directors whose committees met twice weekly to approve all loans. Access to the city wharves and water lots on the east side of Saint John harbour, the most valuable mercantile property in the colony, was also critical. The water lots had been leased in perpetuity by the city in return for the lessees' agreement to construct and maintain the wharves. In return for an annual rental of between £5 and £31, depending on location, a merchant received the right to erect improvements on the wharf, to provide free wharfage for his ships and goods, and to charge the legal rates of wharfage to all ships choosing to load or unload at this landing.17 Possession of this vital harbour resource provided the merchant with both the most geographically advantageous terminal for his sea and river commerce and a modest but continuous income. The central feature of New Brunswick trade was its decentralization. Most great merchants were not involved in the timber harvest or the sawmilling industry. Similarly, although they bought, sold, and contracted for the construction of vessels, they rarely participated directly in the shipbuilding industry. The role of most merchants was that of entrepreneur closing the links between the harbours of Saint John and Liverpool. Their vehicle was the sailing vessel, and by 1841 the port possessed nearly 90,000 tons of shipping, about equally divided between small coasting vessels and those designed for transatlantic crossings.18 There were great differences in patterns of ownership among the city's major mercantile firms. More than half of the port's tonnage was owned by its great merchants, several of whom possessed sizeable fleets. John Kirk owned fourteen vessels totalling over 7,000 tons, Stephen Wiggins ten vessels of nearly 7,000 tons, and John Wishart nine vessels of 4,500 tons. At the other extreme, a number of merchants actually owned little shipping, apparently preferring to ship through

92 T.W. Acheson others. The large firm of Crookshank and Walker, for example, had only a single vessel in 1841. The different ownership patterns reflected the kinds of mercantile specialization that had developed by 1840. The large shipowners were heavily committed to the timber trade, both as merchants and as carriers; Crookshank and Walker were West Indies merchants with strong ties to the coasting trade and played the role of commission merchant and auctioneer. But whatever the area of specialized activity an individual firm might tend to follow, the collective control by the great merchants of the financial structure, harbour facilities, and shipping industry of Saint John placed them in the position both to accumulate personal wealth and to play a significant role in determining the kind of economy which might emerge in the city and the colony. Most great merchants built up sizeable fortunes at some point in their careers. And although time and fortune were not always kind to them, the great majority managed to avoid calamitous failures.19 Any attempt to establish the extent of personal wealth of an individual over time is an exceedingly treacherous enterprise, but it is possible to get a glimpse of the collective resources of the merchant community and to establish with some accuracy the holdings of most merchants at one point in their lives. Something of the size of Saint John merchant capital can be glimpsed in the city's fleet. Assuming an average price of £5 a ton, a conservative estimate of the value of vessels registered in Saint John in 1841 would be £450,000, and the capital investment of firms such as those of James Kirk or Stephen Wiggins would have been in the order of £30-40,000.20 All firms had a basic business investment in offices, stores, warehouses, and the harbour land or wharves on which they were located. Although the size of this investment varied with the scope of the facilities, even a single store in the harbour area was worth £3,000 by mid century, and the larger facilities of many merchants plus the value of stock on hand could multiply that figure five or six times. Yet few merchants committed most of their assets to their mercantile activities. In 1826 the firm of Crookshank and Johnston, one of the largest in the city, owned assets valued at more than £50,000 ($200,000). Of this total only 20 per cent was represented by vessels (the firm owned four) and less than 10 per cent by goods on hand.21 The remainder consisted of investments in property and notes. Johnston withdrew from the firm in 1826 and received the sum of £25,000 from his partner. He also retained ownership of his own firm, H. Johnston & Co., and his total personal assets in that year amounted

93 The great merchant and economic development in Saint John to over £4o,ooo.22 Similar stories of substantial capital investment outside the major mercantile operation can be constructed for other great merchants. Nehemiah Merritt died in 1843 possessed of an estate worth about £60,000 ($240,000) exclusive of ships and business stock.23 In 1864 Stephen Wiggins left more than $700,000 to his heirs, about half of it in assets not connected with the firm.24 And still later, in 1876, 'the Lord of the North,' John Robertson, passed on $454,000 for the benefit of his children.25 By 1840 there may have been a dozen merchants each with assets exceeding a quarter of a million American dollars, and a large part of this capital was available for investment beyond the primary enterprises of their holders. Not surprisingly the most important uses to which the great merchants of Saint John devoted their wealth were those designed to further the development strategies that the merchant community deemed essential to its economic well-being. Although direction and emphasis of these strategies changed from time to time in response to external circumstances, the broad outline is clearly visible throughout the first half of the nineteenth century. Like their counterparts in most North American ports, Saint John merchants emphasized a combination of financial institutions, transportation links, resource exploitation, and urban development to enable them to facilitate transatlantic trade and to dominate a hinterland extending for 200 miles around the city. By 1840 their dominance in shipping had turned the Bay of Fundy into a Saint John lake and their location had made the entire Saint John valley a satrapy of the city. Their greatest concerns were the development of transportation facilities into the interior and to the north shore of the province and the exploitation of the natural resources found within this natural zone of control. To achieve the first, the merchants pressured for a canal system to open Grand Lake, some sixty miles from the city. After 1835 they sought to extend the city's control to the north shore by means of a combined ship-railroad system which would involve construction of short railway lines between Grand Lake and Richibucto and between Shediac and Moncton. To exploit the natural resources of the area, they proposed to develop the sources of water power at the mouth of the Saint John River and at Grand Lake, to mine the coal resources of the Grand Lake area, and to promote the Bay of Fundy and southern whale fisheries.26 The most important institutions necessary to the maintenance of this commercial system were financial organizations, notably banks and insurance companies. Banks facilitated the transfer of funds in transatlantic trade,

94 T.W. Acheson and control of the province's major credit agencies gave the leading merchants considerable leverage in their dealings with other parts of New Brunswick society. The council of New Brunswick had co-operated with the merchant community to charter the first bank in British North America in i82o.27 But the conservative policies and limited capital resources of the Bank of New Brunswick could not keep pace with the financial needs of merchants in a rapidly expanding colony, and by 1836 they had secured royal charters for two more banking institutions, the Commercial and the City banks, over the opposition of the Executive Council of the province.28 By 1845 the three banks possessed a paid-up capital of £250,000 ($1,000,000), most of which was probably held within the city by the merchant community.29 Through the period 1830-50 banking stock never yielded less than 8 per cent a year and was viewed not only as an excellent security but also a first-class opportunity for speculation. Similar emphasis was placed on the city's two marine insurance companies, and on its fire insurance company. The £50,000 capital of the N.B. Marine Insurance Company, the largest of these firms, yielded an annual dividend of 10 to 60 per cent in the 18408, and more than 80 per cent of the stock of that company was held by city merchants in 1841.3° The stock of these companies not only yielded an excellent dividend income, but provided the basis for a flourishing speculative trade in stocks. None the less, the most important single investment made by Saint John merchants was in land. It is interesting to speculate on the reasons behind this phenomenon. Land was clearly acquired both incidentally, in payment of debts, and because of the high degree of security it offered. As well, many merchants saw an opportunity to achieve a certain status in the possession of well-known farms and favoured city residences. The nature of the acquisitions reveals several motives on the part of the purchasers: a desire to emulate a landed gentry, to create the security of rental income, to speculate on rising land prices, and, in the case of purchases outside New Brunswick, to escape the consequences of the provincial bankruptcy laws in the event of commercial disaster. All merchants maintained one and sometimes two city residences. A large landholder such as Noah Disbrow owned twelve city lots and five houses; John Robertson paid city taxes on real estate assessed at £25,000 ($100,000) - which almost certainly greatly underestimated its true market value - and held long-term leases, through his brother, on more than

95 The great merchant and economic development in Saint John one hundred city lots.31 At his death in 1876 Robertson owned city real estate valued at $250,ooo.32 Virtually all merchants owned several city lots and most possessed long-term leases on substantial tracts of city land in the harbour area. Perhaps the most obvious case of land speculation on the part of leading merchants was the development of the suburban lands lying along the Marsh Road area directly north and west of the city. As early as 1819 most of this land had been acquired from the Hazen estate by several merchants notably Nehemiah Merritt, Stephen Wiggins, Henry Gilbert, Hugh Johnston, and Walker Tisdale - as building lots and farms.33 By mid century most of the land remained in the hands of the merchant-buyers, who were in the process of subdividing it into township building lots. The same assumptions concerning the development of the interior of the province marked the merchant's land acquisition in the Saint John River valley. Instead of buying up timber land, most merchants deliberately set about to acquire land bordering on the river. Their holdings were marked by a high proportion of working farms with tenants and comprised some of the most valuable agricultural resources in the province. The estate of Hugh Johnston alone contained nearly 12,000 acres of valley land in 25 separate holdings scattered through Queens, Sunbury, York, and Carleton counties in i835.34 A number of merchants also acquired extensive holdings in other areas, notably Nova Scotia, Maine, New York, and Upper Canada. Nehemiah Merritt, for example, owned three houses at Greenwich and Amos streets in New York City, and he and Walker Tisdale each possessed more than 2,000 acres of land in Northumberland and Durham counties, Upper Canada.35 In addition to ownership of lands and financial institutions, the Saint John merchant sought security through the public sector of the economy. The debt of the city and the province and the financing of public utilities within the city offered ample opportunity for investment. The city, in particular, had no agency through which it could carry long-term debt contracted for the construction of essential public works, and from 1819 on the merchant came to play an important role as city creditor.36 By 1842 the municipal funded debt totalled £112,000 of which 40 per cent was held directly by merchants and their families and another 20 per cent by Saint John banks and insurance companies.37 The city's major public utilities were promoted and financed by its merchants. The water company was formed following the cholera epide-

96 T.W. Acheson mic of 1832, and by 1844 it had expended £27,000 on the system.38 The Gas Light Company and Reversing Falls Bridge Company were founded in the 18405 under the inspiration of the same group.39 Of all the potential investments in New Brunswick, the one that found least favour with the merchant community was secondary industry. Most merchant investment in this sector was related to the processing of natural resources produced in the province. In the wake of the growing English demand for deals in the mid 18305 several merchants acquired or constructed sawmills which they operated in conjunction with their shipping activities. Within the city John Robertson erected a large steam sawmill powered by sawdust and offal, while less impressive operations were conducted by Robert Rankin & Co., Stephen Wiggins, R.D. Wilmot, Thomas and Ezekiel Barlow, and Nehemiah Merritt.40 Outside the city the Kinnear brothers operated the Wales Stream mill.41 Several others lent their support to the Portland Mills and Tunnel Company which proposed to cut tunnels through the Reversing Falls gorge to provide water power for a sawmill complex in Portland.42 The most important industrial undertaking before 1850 was the establishment of the Phoenix Foundry by the non-merchant Thomas Barlow in the 18208. During the first two decades of its existence the firm introduced a number of technical innovations into the city, including construction of the first steamship manufactured entirely in the colony.43 In fact, most leading merchants had no financial involvement with secondary industry before 1840; those who did, with the exception of Robertson, had limited investment in the undertakings. There was little investment in the city's major secondary industry - shipbuilding - and most lumber, even in the Saint John area, was made in forty-nine sawmills owned by a different group of men.44 Quite clearly, comprehensive industrial development stood low on the list of merchant priorities in the period. In view of the rapid pace of industrial growth in the city between 1820 and 1840, the low level of merchant participation is surprising. In 1820, apart from a few shipyards, sawmills, and flour mills, Saint John's secondary industry consisted of a wide variety of traditional crafts practiced in dozens of small workshops. Over the course of the next three decades, in response to the needs of a rapidly expanding provincial society, the city and its environs were transformed into an important manufacturing centre. This development occurred along a broad front. Most obvious and most significant was the growth of the shipbuilding and sawmilling industries. But there were also a

97 The great merchant and economic development in Saint John host of industries producing for provincial consumers. Apart from the enterprises of the master tailors and shoemakers, these included twenty-four tanneries, sixteen flour mills, four iron foundries, two brass foundries, twelve furniture and four soap manufacturers, eight carriage makers, two breweries, a paper mill, and a number of minor industries.45 The capacity and resources of these firms is perhaps best illustrated by the flour industry which by 1840 represented a capital investment of over £50,000 in mills capable of producing annually more than 150,000 barrels of flour, enough to feed the entire population of the province.46 The tanners - four of whom were capable of generating more than sixty horsepower from their steamengines - made a similar claim for their industry.47 The Harris Foundry comprised a block of buildings in 1846 with a replacement value of more than £io,ooo.48 Most of these firms were developed by local entrepreneurs using their own skills and either their own capital or that provided by their family or friends. Before 1840 most merchants either involved themselves little in this development or viewed it with outright hostility. Wood and fish processing and shipbuilding were regarded as important elements in the commercial system, and some merchants were prepared to invest in these undertakings. When local grain and livestock production was expanding in the 18208, several merchants indicated some support for the tanners in their efforts to exclude cheap Canadian leather from the province, and even promoted the first steam flour mill to grind local wheat.49 However, such support was rare. More common was a violent negative reaction. The special objects of the merchants' wrath were the millers and bakers. The latter had long protested because American flour entered the colony with a 58. a barrel duty while bread entered free.50 The merchants' reply was to demand the removal of provincial tariffs on both.51 A clearer indication of the merchants' view of early industrial development is seen in the issues on which they took no position. These included virtually every request for assistnace, support, or tariff protection by every manufacturing industry and interest in the city between 1820 and 1840. Given the rapid growth of the manufacturing sector during this time, this lack of participation by the merchant community stood in sharp contrast to the support which the manufacturers were able to command in almost every other major segment of urban society. The principal organization of the merchant community was the Chamber of Commerce, and the world the merchant sought to create and maintain

98 T.W. Acheson before 1840 is clearly visible through its petitions to the municipal, provincial, and imperial governments. The central doctrine in these petitions was the reciprocity of mercantilism and imperial economic preference in return for colonial deference and loyalty in matters economic and political. The merchant identified the prosperity of the colony with his right to buy cheaply and sell dear. To do this he must not only be able to sell colonial produce in a protected imperial market, but to purchase that produce in as free a market as possible. The latter doctrine carried a special significance for colonial producers, for the merchant was prepared to use American timber and foodstuffs to keep costs as low as possible in the timber trade. Indeed, on any issue deemed vital to the prosecution of the timber trade, the ranks of the great merchants never broke in nearly half a century. Thus, timber resources held by the crown and after 1836 by the province must be leased at nominal fees.52 Severe penalties must be imposed on those stealing timber or making lumber, timber, fish, and flour of inferior quality.53 Debtors must continue to be imprisoned lest British creditors lose confidence in the colony's will to protect them, and cheap justice must be provided to permit the collection of debts.54 No provincial duties could be imposed on timber, lumber, flour, bread, pork, or manufactured tobacco, and provincial tariffs must stand at no more than 5 per cent so that the merchant might keep control of the commerce of the Annapolis Valley of Nova Scotia.55 Until 1843 imperial regulations permitted the merchant to treat the entire eastern seaboard of the United States and New Brunswick as a single commercial entity for the purposes of the timber trade, and New Brunswick timber makers found their prices set by American competition.56 Even more significant, in terms of its implications for the fortunes of farmers and millers, was the merchants' bitter and continued opposition to any attempts by either provincial or imperial parliaments to establish or maintain duties on flour or salted provisions, an opposition which finally led Lieutenant Governor Sir John Harvey to express doubts as to what extent the Saint John Chamber of Commerce 'represents the real commercial interests of the province.'57 By 1840 there is some evidence to suggest that a minority of merchants were prepared to dissent from the chamber on economic issues not directly related to the timber trade. The flour trade was a case in point. Although most fleet owners strongly supported free trade in wheat and flour in order to assure the cheapest provisions for their crews, a number of great merchants saw the commercial possibilities of a high tariff on foreign wheat and flour

99 The great merchant and economic development in Saint John which would enable them to ship wheat from England for processing in Saint John mills. And the rapidly expanding domestic market had persuaded a few that not only could greater returns be obtained by importing wheat rather than flour, but that flour mills offered the best return of all.58 None the less, until the 18405 the vast majority of merchants still believed that low tariffs were essential. After 1841 the assumptions upon which the merchants' system had been built were undermined by external factors. The first major jolt was the dramatic recession of 1841 occasioned by the collapse of the British timber market. As the ripples of this unusually severe crisis spread through the local economy, the layers of provincial society collapsed hierarchically, beginning with the ship's labourers, passing into the minor shopkeepers and journeymen craftsmen, then into the ranks of the master craftsmen, shipbuilders, traders, contractors, small merchants, and lawyers, finally claiming its victims among even the most stalwart with the bankruptcies of leading merchants such as James Hanford, Alex Yeats, and J. & H. Kinnear in i843.59 Just as the economy was recovering from the recession in 1843, the British government began its gradual dismantlement of the mercantilist structure with the regulations prohibiting the import of Maine-produced timber into the United Kingdom under the preferential tariff.60 In the short run the regulations produced no significant impact on the timber trade other than to limit the merchants' choice of producers. The long-run effect of the tariff declension between 1843 and 1849 was a sharp decline in the quantity and value of timber shipped from Saint John, and a corresponding increase in the export of lumber and deals.61 The rapid change and threat of change in the early 18408 produced a crisis of confidence in the mercantile assumptions which had dominated the economy of New Brunswick since Napoleonic times. The producer, whether shoemaker, farmer, sawmill owner, or foundry owner, had existed in a gray area of semi-protection since the creation of the colony. Although the combination of imperial protective tariffs and provincial revenue duties had been sufficient to keep most local produce competitive with that from the United States, British produce entered the colony burdened only by the small revenue tariff. Provincial duties on British manufactures, for example, were fixed at 2.5 per cent while those levied on American were 10 per cent.62 The proposed elimination of the imperial tariff threatened to visit further disaster on an already badly demoralized artisan community. Hundreds of Saint John

loo T.W. Acheson artisans and mechanics had abandoned the city during the recession of 1841-2, and the exodus continued through 1842 and 1843 as economic prospects for the colony dimmed. By 1843 the city was divided by acrimonious debate between those prepared to follow the mother country into free trade, and those who argued that the wealth of the colony was being dissipated on imported produce to the detriment of the producing classes. These protectionist views were strengthened by the emergence of a significant mechanics' revolt against what was perceived as the tyranny of the merchants. Out of the thriving mechanics' community, which had developed in the 18308, was formed, late in 1843, the Provincial Association, which brought together representatives of every major group of producers in the province.63 The association advocated protection and promotion of the interests of farmers, fishers, mechanics, and manufacturers, through the use of duties, bounties, model farms, and mechanics' fairs. Among other things it urged the imposition of a substantial tariff on cordage and canvas, coupled with the payment of a bounty to farmers to grow hemp and flax.64 By 1844 the debate between free trader and protectionist had been transferred from the meeting hall to the assembly, where the protectionists succeeded in imposing a compromise on the merchant interests after six close divisions in the house. Provincial duties were raised to 25 per cent on clocks, 20 per cent on wooden ware and chairs, 15 per cent on furniture and certain kinds of machinery, 10 per cent on castings, cut nails, and brick, and specific duties were imposed on cattle, oxen, horses, and apples. At the same time, any product required for the building of ships or the provisioning of crews, including flour, was placed on the free list. The debate over the most hotly contested duties, those on footwear and clothing, ended in a tie when a 10 per cent duty was imposed on footwear (a 5 per cent proposal was narrowly defeated) and clothing was admitted under a 4 per cent tariff.65 The compromise was only a temporary truce. Led by the Saint John Chamber of Commerce, the free traders counter-attacked at the 1845 sitting of the assembly. Winning the support of several farmers who had voted with the protectionists the previous year, the free traders succeeded in reducing the tariff schedule to its 1843 levels, cutting some duties by as much as 60 per cent.66 In response, one outraged protectionist leader vented his spleen in the columns of the Morning News on the Tree Trade Chamber of Commerce' of Saint John, those 'few selfish individuals' who were prepared to impose 'this vicious system of one-sided free trade' on the 'productive

ioI The great merchant and economic development in Saint John classes ... the bone and sinew of the country.'67 However, this setback was temporary. Much to the chagrin of leading reformers like George Fenety, protection became a basic political issue during the 18408 and 18508, one that cut across the constitutional issues so dear to the hearts of reformers.68 The revenue bill of the province was prepared each year by a select committee of the assembly which acted on resolutions passed at each sitting of the legislature. In 1847 the house, by a 21 to io majority, accepted the principle that 'in enacting a Revenue Bill, the principle of protection to home industry, irrespective of revenue, should be recognized by levying duties on those productions and manufactures of foreign countries which the people of this province are capable of producing and manufacturing themselves.'69 The thrust of this resolution was directed against American produce and the revenue bill of that year introduced differential duties on British and foreign manufacturers. After 1850, however, the protectionists on the select committee were able to develop a policy of modest protection for a number of local industries. This included a 15 per cent tariff on footwear, leather, furniture, machinery, iron castings (stoves, ranges, boilers, furnaces, grates), most agricultural implements, wagons and sleighs, veneers, cigars, hats, and pianos. The merchant community of Saint John was ill prepared to meet the threat posed by the rise of the Provincial Association. By 1843 it was still recovering from the blows dealt it by the collapse of 1841-2, and it perceived the major threat to its security among the British free traders rather than in a diverse group of local protectionists. Although the Chamber of Commerce traditionally had been the principal vehicle of merchant views, by 1843 it had come to represent the great fleet owners in their struggle against the threats to the protected status of the colonial timber trade. The chamber's initial reaction to the Provincial Association and its proposals to divert provincial resources from the timber trade into agricultural and manufacturing was negative. In strongly worded petitions to the provincial and imperial authorities, it reiterated support for traditional mercantilist policies in the timber trade and for a maximum 5 per cent duty on all provincial imports.70 Although the majority apparently accepted the Chamber of Commerce position, a significant minority came out in support of the Provincial Association and its policies of economic diversification and protective tariffs.71 Among the heretics were R.D. Wilmot, William Parks, the Jarvises, Henry Gilbert, John Walker, Noah Disbrow, Charles Ward, and Walker Tisdale.72

102 T.W. Acheson The principal spokesman for the movement in Saint John in the mid 18408 was R.D. Wilmot. When the Provincial Association entered the political arena with its platform of the 'new New Brunswick,' Wilmot was returned to the House of Assembly where he replaced his cousin, Lemuel Allan Wilmot, as the province's leading protectionist. Meanwhile, in an effort to restore a semblance of unity to the divided merchant community, the Chamber of Commerce was reorganized in the spring of 1845 and ^e membership of its new directorate reflected the attempts made to provide representation from a wide range of merchant opinions and interests.73 At the final crisis of mercantilism, in 1849, the chamber played an important part in the organization of the New Brunswick Colonial Association which brought together the city's most distinguished citizens in an effort to define the province's role in the new economic order.74 The early program of the association clearly represented an attempt to reconcile all viewpoints and included a proposal urging the encouragement of home industry.75 These efforts muted but could not entirely conceal the tensions between merchant free traders and protectionists. By 1850 the Colonial Association had dropped its proposal for the encouragement of home industry and offered reciprocity in trade and navigation with the United States as the sole panacea for the province's economic ills.76 And in the House of Assembly the merchants and their supporters were able to impose a compromise on the protectionists the effect of which was to create two economic systems. The artisan and manufacturer were granted a moderate tariff on material not required in the prosecution of the wood trades, while virtually everything necessary to the lumber industry, the timber trade, the building of wooden ships, and the victualling of crews was admitted free to the New Brunswick market. The latter included mill engines, anchors, chain, canvas, cordage, tackle, felt, sails, spikes, cotton ways, and iron bolts, bars, plates, and sheating, as well as rigging, tin and copper plate, sheathing paper, grain, flour, meal, bread, meats, fruit, and vegetables.77 In effect, every backward linkage that the rapidly growing shipbuilding and shipping industry might have provided to the provincial economy was discouraged by provincial policy. Shipbuilders were encouraged to import all materials required in the building process, other than wood. Merchants were rewarded both with the transportation costs of the building materials and with cheap vessels which they sold in the United Kingdom. It was a policy

103 The great merchant and economic development in Saint John which permitted the application of a limited range of skills and the use of a small capital to produce a product which was competitive on the British market. Unfortunately such a policy conferred only limited benefits on the provincial economy and did not provide the flexibility or profit margins that gave the ship builder either the capital resources or the incentive to undertake any extensive technological innovation. More important, it did not allow the development of substantial industries, dependent on these backward linkages, which might have promoted these changes. None the less, the activities of the Provincial Association remained an important theme in city politics into the i85os.78 Of the thirty-seven great merchants still living in Saint John after 1842, sixteen lent their support to at least some significant part of the protectionist program and twelve of these consistently supported its general objective. Not surprisingly, the merchants split on the issue of protection in terms of the emphasis which their business activities gave to the timber trade. Those with the most significant trading concerns - like John Ward, John Wishart, and John Robertson - remained largely divorced from the concerns of other elements within the broader community. They were, as well, the major shipowners and their focus remained on the transatlantic community. They did not necessarily oppose the protectionist impulse per se^ but they did fear its emphasis on economic self-sufficiency, its inefficiencies, and particularly the stated goal of protectionists to transfer resources out of the timber industry and into manufacturing, agriculture, and fishing.79 Yet, while leading merchants opposed protectionist policies where they threatened to make the New Brunswick shipping industry uncompetitive on international runs by imposing substantial tariffs on flour, bread, and port, a number were prepared to accept the new order. Although it is difficult to generalize about them, they tended to include men whose principal activities had centred on the merchandising activities of the wholesaler and those whose interests were more concerned with New Brunswick than the transatlantic community. While they were men of substance, none could match the personal fortunes amassed by the more substantial timber merchants, particularly those with heavy investments in ships. At his death in 1853, Noah Disbrow left over $80,000 (£20,800) to be divided among his six daughters and two sons, and three years later Munson Jarvis' brother William, a prominent dockside merchant, left $50,ooo.8° The next year William Parks placed a value of £17,484 (about $70,000) on the assets of his firm.81

104 T.W. Acheson By comparison, Stephen Wiggins' share of the firm of Stephen Wiggins & Son was valued at $389,000 in 1863, most of which would have been in shipping.82 Over the course of the 18508, however, a minority of the great merchants did play an increasingly important role in the industrial development of the city through promotion of enterprises as diverse as woollen mills and coal-oil refineries. As their industrial interests grew, their involvement in the staples trade became less significant. Several had been or became agents for the transfer of resources from the staples to the manufacturing sector of the provincial economy in an attempt to create a more balanced economy. The Barlow brothers have been mentioned already in connection with the secondary iron industry. The hardware merchant, William Henry Scovil, established his cut nail factory in the early 18408, and the wholesale grocer, William Parks, ended his career in the i86os as a proprietor of one of the first cotton mills in British North America. Those who identified most closely with the community were generally most willing to commit capital to its internal development; those with strong British ties and alternatives were usually much less willing to make this commitment. Thus, a relatively high proportion of merchants of Loyalist origins supported the Provincial Association and its objectives. In essence, they viewed Saint John as the central element in a limited regional economy, in preference to its position in the larger metropolitan economy. It was merchants who had developed these more limited horizons and who saw their future in terms of local enterprise who came to the support of the manufacturers and artisans of the city, the group largely responsible for the not inconsiderable manufacturing development of the period from 1820 to 1850. The manufacturers and artisans were drawn from different origins, participated at different levels of civic society, and enjoyed a distinctly inferior status to their mercantile counterparts. Their special interests and ideas received serious consideration by the leaders of the community only during periods of economic crisis, such as the 18408 and iSyos. Even then the producers were able to achieve a position of influence only in alliance with a portion of the merchant community. When merchants closed ranks, they were able to establish the goals of the community at large, and these goals were almost always designed to further the integration of the region into a larger trading complex in which the region was subordinated to the interests of a metropolitan community. So long as the imperial economic system was

105 The great merchant and economic development in Saint John possible, the merchants used their capital and their great influence to maintain and further that system, largely ignoring the interests of farmers, manufacturers, and other producers in the province. Nowhere was this more evident than in the crucial area of credit. Not only did they use the financial institutions in the city to direct the available credit to their own commercial purposes, but they successfully thwarted every effort by producers to obtain their own banking facilities. The great merchants certainly organized and financed the commercial and financial superstructure needed for the conduct of the timber trade in a major sea port, and they played important roles in providing capital for the exploitation of the natural resources of the region and for the construction of public works and utilities within the city. A minority, distinguished by their wholesaling concerns and native origins, began to participate in some fashion in the development of a more diversified urban economy. But the majority of great merchants retained a commitment to an unmodified staples economy. In the early nineteenth century it was this group which produced the dominant economic class, the institutions and myths - particularly that of commerce as the great creator of prosperity - which formed the community of Saint John. Throughout the period they were able to mould the economy to their essentially inter-regional, export-oriented needs. In so doing, they exploited the province's natural resources of timber and stimulated the development of major sawmilling and shipbuilding industries both of which produced significant short-term benefits for the economy. Ancillary benefits were derived from the provision of shipping, credit facilities, and insurance services. The manufacturing sector of the New Brunswick economy did grow rapidly in the 18505 and i86os. Gordon Bertram has demonstrated that in 1871 the per capita output of the province's manufacturing industries rivalled that of Ontario and Quebec and was nearly twice that of Nova Scotia.83 Nearly half the industrial output of New Brunswick was produced in and around the city of Saint John.84 McClelland suggests that there was an average annual growth of I per cent in New Brunswick's deal and lumber exports during the period.85 Not surprisingly, the largest components of the province's industrial output were sawmill products and wooden ships (44 per cent for the province and 38 per cent for the city).86 Apart from these traditional staples, however, virtually every industry which had received even a modest degree of protection in the previous generation flourished.

io6 T.W. Acheson Foundry products, footwear, and clothing all exceeded shipbuilding in value, while furniture and carriage making, boiler making, saw and file manufacture, tin and sheet iron output, and leather making all played significant roles in the local economy.87 Some backward linkages from shipbuilding, which earlier tariff policies had done so little to encourage, were also able to develop by the late i86os. The most obvious example was the small rope-making industry functioning in the city, and there can be little doubt that at least some of the foundry activity was stimulated by the market created by the shipbuilders.88 Yet the outlines of the earlier emphases were still visible in the city's industrial structure. Apparently there was no industry capable of producing the chain, anchors, and canvas used in the shipbuilding industry, nor to provide the machinery employed in the province's 565 sawmills.89 Although steam-engines had been constructed in Saint John in the 18405, there was no engine-building firm in the province by i8yo.90 A similar situation existed in the basic food industries. The ancient flour industry had been virtually eliminated and only a miniscule meat-curing industry survived.91 There were no distilleries and only four small breweries.92 The debate over the virtues of the ordered pastoral life as opposed to the disordered and transient nature of the timber industry was a recurring theme in nineteenth-century New Brunswick. The debate came to be couched in such explicit moral terms that it is difficult to make any assessment of the economic viability of provincial agriculture in the period, or to determine the extent to which the agricultural development of the province was affected by the timber trade.93 The rapidity of agricultural development between 1840 and 1870 would seem to indicate that there was some truth to the charges of the timber critics that the trade retarded the development of substantial agriculture in the first half of the nineteenth century. This retardation was of vital importance to the health of the colonial economy. New Brunswick ran a perennial deficit in its current account and in most years the entire trade imbalance resulted from the substantial imports of foodstuffs for use within the province. The most prominent example of this phenomenon was American wheat and flour, but it was reflected, as well, in large imports of rye flour, Indian meal, pork, beef, lamb, butter, potatoes, vegetables, fruit, and even oats. The proportion of agricultural products ranged from between 20 per cent and 40 per cent of the province's total imports.95 Wheat and flour imports alone exceeded the value of timber

ioy The great merchant and economic development in Saint John exports by 1852 and by 1855 the 170,000 barrels of flour and 110,000 bushels of wheat, worth £334,000 in all, rivalled the £380,000 in deals shipped from the province.96 New Brunswick agricultural conditions were not particularly suited to the production of wheat, although the doubling of output following the National Policy of 1879 indicates that a much larger production than occurred up to confederation was possible.97 But it is more difficult to explain the import of most other foodstuffs, which could be produced domestically. Given the fact that substantial quantities of these products were grown in the province in the 18408, that the land for producing more was readily available, and that there was a substantial local demand for these foodstuffs which could not be met by local producers, it seems probable that the incentives offered by the timber trade, and the refusal of the province to afford even nominal protection to local producers were the major factors in inhibiting the growth of a more substantial agricultural sector before 1850. In the final analysis there is no simple answer to the question of merchant responsibility for economic growth or retardation in Saint John and New Brunswick. While they agreed on the validity of the concept of economic growth, merchants rarely spoke with a single voice when the subject of a specific development strategy was raised. Most were prepared to permit, and some to support a strategy which included the development of certain kinds of secondary industry. These efforts were generally successful although this success was due more to the efforts of the city's artisans than to its merchants. Merchant endeavours were particularly aimed at supporting and preserving the traditional timber staple and its milling, shipping, and shipbuilding ancillaries. The manufacture of producer goods used in any of these activities, including mill engines and machinery, shipbuilding materials, and domestic foodstuffs needed for ship's crews, lumberers, and mill labourers, were afforded no encouragement. In effect two economic systems, based upon mutually exclusive values, were the result of the synthesis which emerged from the conflicts of the 18408. The most obvious victim of that synthesis was the shipbuilding industry, potentially the most dynamic element in the provincial economy, which was locked into the more conservative timber trade economy. Thus a city containing a number of secondary iron and steel firms, which for decades had possessed the capability of manufacturing complete steamships and engines, and a labour force skilled at working in both wood and iron was

108 T.W. Acheson unable to manufacture metal ships or even to make any substantial adjustment in the face of technological changes which were gradually eroding this vital industry. In the course of i86os and iSyos the shipbuilders built and the timber merchants bought and sold ships in the traditional way simply because they could not perceive the industry apart from the timber trade or from the lumber which was basic to both building and trade. Although the timber merchants were not able to shape the provincial economy to their perceptions by themselves, they provided an effective and powerful leadership to substantial interests in the province which identified with the traditional timber trade. By 1871 the economy was becoming increasingly diversified and self-sufficient and the dynamic elements were to be found in secondary industry and in agriculture, but the influence of the great merchants delayed this development by two critical decades. In this sense they contributed to the retardation of a viable industrial base in the city. NOTES 1 The literature of this debate has been explored by L.R. MacDonald in 'Merchants against industry: an idea and its origins,' Canadian Historical Review LVI (1975): 263-81 2 A point most recently made by Professor Gerald Tulchinsky in The river barons (Toronto 1977), 234. 3 None the less, a good beginning has been made with Tulchinsky's examination of the Montreal business community at mid century, and in David Sutherland's study of the business strategies of Halifax merchants in the colonial period. David Sutherland, 'Halifax merchants and the pursuit of development, 1783-1850,' CHR ox (1978): 1-17. 4 Peter D. McClelland, 'The New Brunswick economy in the nineteenth century' (unpublished PHD thesis, Harvard University 1966), 3-4. McClelland argues that shipbuilding may have added no more than 2.6 per cent to the gross regional product (p. 189) and that it had few significant backward or forward linkages. 5 Ibid., 229-30. 6 Ibid., 4. 7 New Brunswick, Journal of the House of Assembly, 1841, xvii-xxx; Canada, Census, 1871, iv: 125. 8 Canada, Census, 1871, iv: 128. 9 The early development of this industry is discussed by Lewis R. Fischer in 'From barques to barges: shipping industry of Saint John, N.B., 1820-1914' (unpublished paper read to the Atlantic Canada Studies Conference, Fredericton 1978). 10 Eugene A. Forsey, The Canadian labour movement, 1812-1902 (Canadian Historical Association pamphlet, Ottawa 1974), 3-4; J. Richard Rice, 'A history of organized

109 The great merchant and economic development in Saint John

11 12

13

14

15

16 17

18

19

20 21 22

labour in Saint John, New Brunswick, 1813-1890' (unpublished MA thesis, University of New Brunswick 1968), chap. i. James M. Gilmour, Spatial evolution of manufacturing: southern Ontario, 1851-1891 (Toronto 1972). For the extent to which they succeeded in identifying their interests with the community see the testimonials to the merchants delivered by George Fenety and Henry Chubb, the city's most respected and influential newspapers editors in the 18408; Commercial News and General Advertiser (Saint John), 10 Sept. 1839, an(^ New Brunswick Courier (Saint John), 10 Feb. 1843. See also W. Stewart MacNutt, 'Politics of the timber trade in colonial New Brunswick, 1825-40,' CHR xxx (1949): 47-65. This group includes L.H. Deveber, Thomas Barlow, Ezekiel Barlow, Jr, Issac Bedell, Robert W. Crookshank, Noah Disbrow, Jr, Lauchlan Donaldson, John Duncan, Henry Gilbert, James T. Hanford, John Hammond, David Hatfield, James Hendricks, Ralph M. Jarvis, Hugh Johnston, Sr, Hugh Johnston, Jr, John H. Kinnear, James Kirk, Thomas Leavitt, William H. Leavitt, Nehemiah Merritt, Thomas Millidge, D.L. McLaughlin, Thomas E. Millidge, William Parks, John Pollok, Robert Rankin, E.D.W. Ratchford, John Robertson, W.H. Scovil, Charles Simonds, Walker Tisdale, John V. Thurgar, John Walker, John Ward, Jr, Charles Ward, Stephen Wiggins, John M. Wilmot, R.D. Wilmot, John Wishart. David Macmillan explores the early development of the Saint John Scottish community in 'The new men in action: Scottish mercantile and shipping operations in the North American colonies, 1760-1825,' Canadian business history: selected studies, 1497-1971 (Toronto 1972), 82-99. A good description of these activities is found in Graeme Wynn, 'Industry, entrepreneurship and opportunity in the New Brunswick timber trade,' in Lewis R. Fischer and Eric W. Sager, eds, The enterprising Canadians: entrepreneurs and economic development in eastern Canada, 1820-1914 (St John's 1979). Reports revealing the directors and the financial state of affairs of each bank were published annually in Journal of the House of Assembly. Schedule of real estate belonging to St John, wharf leases in perpetuity, Records of the Executive Council, REX/PA, Misc., Provincial Archives of New Brunswick (PANE). This description of the Saint John fleet, containing information on the date of acquisition, size, and ownership of each vessel, is found in 'Customs House account, returns of shipping, Port of Saint John, New Brunswick,' Journal of the House of Assembly > 1842, cclvii-cclxvii. Two notable failures were the firms John M. Wilmot, in 1837 an^ James Hanford, Alex Yeats, and J. & H. Kinnear, in 1843. New Brunswick Courier, 4 Mar., 18, 25 Nov. 1843; A.R.M. Lower, Great Britain's woodyard (Toronto 1973), 151. Prices for vessels built in New Brunswick fluctuated between £5 and £12 a ton throughout the 18308 and 18408. Account book i, pp.5-10, Hugh Johnston papers, New Brunswick Museum (NBM). Schedule of real and personal effects, May 1826, ibid.

i io T.W. Acheson 23 Last will and testament of Nehemiah Merritt, Records of the Court of Probate, City and county of Saint John, book G, 13iff., PANB. The totals include estimates of property values. 24 Stephen Wiggins, 1864, RG 7, RS 71, PANE. 25 John Robertson, 1876, ibid. 26 New Brunswick, Records of the Legislative Assembly (RLE), 1834, Petitions, vol. 2, no.4i; 1836, Petitions, vol. 5, nos.70, 75, 81; 1834, Petitions, vol. 6, no. 130, PANE. 27 James Hannay, History of New Brunswick (Saint John 1909), n: 428-9. 28 NB, RLE, 1836, Petitions, vol. 5, no.64, PANE; Hannay, History, 430-2. 29 These estimates are drawn from Bank of New Brunswick dividend payments, newspaper accounts of bank stock sales, and wills. There was no public statement disclosing the ownership of bank stock in colonial New Brunswick. 30 The annual reports of the N.B. Marine Insurance Company between 1830 and 1850 may be found in the appendices of the journals of the New Brunswick House of Assembly. See for example New Brunswick, Journal of the House of Assembly., 1842, appendix - Returns of incorporated companies, the N.B. Marine Insurance Company. 31 Records of the Court of Probate, City and county of Saint John, Book H, 4546°., PANE, provide the details of Disbrow's holdings. Robertson's are found in John Robertson to Common Council, io Oct. 1849, Saint John Common Council supporting papers, vol. 20, Saint John manuscripts, PANE; Saint John schedule (etc.), 1842, REX/PA, Misc., PANE. 32 John Robertson, 1876, RG 7, RS 71, PANE. 33 Extract of cash received for land sold, 1814-21, William F. Hazen papers, Daybook and journal, 1814-34, NBM. 34 Inventory of estate of Hugh Johnston, I May 1835, Hugh Johnston papers, Account book I, NBM. 35 Records of the Court of Probate, City and County of Saint John, Book G, 131; Book I, 267,

PANE.

36 The city debt rose from £4,413 in 1822 to £115,366 in 1845. Minutes of the Common Council, v, 5 Apr. 1822; xvn, io Sept. 1845, Common clerk's office, Saint John City Hall. 37 Common Council supporting papers, vi, 7/8-12/13 Sept. 1842, Saint John Manuscript, PANE. 38 NB, RLE, 1844, Petitions, vol. 7, no.iSi, PANB. 39 New Brunswick Courier, 27 Mar. 1843. 40 New Brunswick Courier, II Sept. 1852; Morning News (Saint John), 23 Apr. 1841. 41 New Brunswick Courier, 25 Nov. 1843. 42 NB, RLE, 1834, Petitions, vol. 2, no.4i; 1836, Petitions, vol. 5, no.75; 1839, Petitions, vol. 2, no.43. PANB. 43 Common Council minutes, xv, 23 Dec. 1840, 14 Jan. 1841, Common clerk's office, Saint John City Hall. 44 The most important of these was probably George Bond who held the lease for the tidal-powered Carleton mills, the most significant power source in the Saint John area.

in The great merchant and economic development in Saint John 45 NB, RLE, 1836, Petitions, vol. 5, no.H2; 1840, Petitions, vol. 4, no.122; 1843, Petitions, vol. 6, no.149; 1850, Petitions, vol. 17, nos.357, 414, PANE. New Brunswick Courier, 12 Oct. 1850, 5 July 1851. 46 NB, RLE, 1840, Petitions, vol. 4, no. 122, PANE. 47 NB, RLE, 1845, Petitions, vol. 9, no.298, PANE. 48 New Brunswick Courier, 27 June 1846. 49 NB, RLE, 1828, Petitions, vol. 2, no.43; 1834, Petitions, vol. 4, no.9i, PANE. 50 NB, RLE, 1835, petitions, vol. 4, no.124; 1842, Petitions, vol. 3, no.54, PANE. 51 NB, RLE, 1833, Petitions, vol. 3, no.102; 1840, Petitions, vol. 4, no.i2i; 1842, Petitions, vol. 12, no.237; 1851, Petitions, vol. 15, no.457, PANE. New Brunswick Courier, 4 Feb. 184352 W.S. MacNutt, 'Politics of the timber trade,' 47-65; Graeme Wynn, 'Administration in adversity: the deputy surveyors and control of the New Brunswick crown forests before 1844,' Acadiensis vn (autumn 1977): 49-65. 53 NB, RLE, 1824, D, Petitions, no.6; 1839, Petitions, vol. 3, no.8o, PANE. 54 NB, RLE, 1831, F, Petitions, vol. 2, no.io, PANE. 55 NB, RLE, 1850, Petitions, vol. 6, no.138, PANE. New Brunswick Courier, 24 Feb. 1849. 56 New Brunswick Courier, 20 Jan. 1844. 57 Sir John Harvey to Lord Glenelg, 15 May 1838, co 188/59, {£733-42, Public Record Office (PRO), but also see Petition of St John merchants, 17 Feb. 1834, co 188/49, ff.169-71; Sir John Harvey to Lord John Russell, 4 Sept. 1840, co 188/69, ff-I52~3; Sir William Colebrooke to Stanley, 29 Mar. 1842, co 188/75, ff-34I~5- Both Harvey and Colebrooke feared the economic and social consequences of an over-specialized staples economy. 58 NB, RLE, 1840, Petitions, vol. 4, no. 122, PANE. Among the dissenters were N. Merritt, R. Rankin, John Walker, D. Wilmot, I. Bedell, Wm. Parks. 59 New Brunswick Courier, 4 Mar., 3 June, 15 July, 7 Oct., 18, 25 Nov. 1843. 60 NB, RLE, 1843, Petitions, vol. 9, no.244, PANE. 61 Between 1840 and 1849 tne value of timber exports from New Brunswick declined from £271,000 to £179,000; that of deals and boards increased from £180,000 to £266,000. New Brunswick, Journal of the House of Assembly, 1841, 1850, Customs House returns. 62 Ibid., 1842, appendix, cclxxiv. 63 New Brunswick Courier, 4 Jan. 1844. 64 Ibid., 10 Feb. 1844. 65 New Brunswick, Journal of the House of Assembly, 1844, 152-7. 66 Morning News, 24 Mar. 1845. The defectors included Barbaric from Restigouche, Earle from Queens, Hanington and Palmer from Westmorland. See New Brunswick, Journal of the House of Assembly, 1845, 219-21. 67 Morning News, 19 Mar. 1845. 68 Editor and publisher of the Morning News and later queen's printer under the Liberals, Fenety was unsympathetic to the views of the protectionists. G.E. Fenety, Political notes and observations (Fredericton 1867), I3 chaps 5, 21. On the other hand

112 T.W. Acheson

69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77

both Lemuel Allan Wilmot and Samuel Leonard Tilley supported the protectionist position. New Brunswick, Journal of the House of Assembly, 1847, 190-1. New Brunswick Courier., 4 Feb. 1844. Ibid., 10 Feb. 1844. NB, RLE, 1843, Petitions, vol. 6, no. 143, PANE. Morning News, 2, 16 Apr., 6, 7 May 1845; 25 F£b- T846. New Brunswick Courier, 28 June, 4 Aug. 1849. Ibid., 15 Sept. 1849. Ibid., 8 June 1850. The evolution of New Brunswick policy between 1837 and 1860 is illustrated through the tariffs imposed on the following commodities of British or foreign origin in percentages.

Wagons Footwear Agricultural implements Stoves Chain Canvas Cordage Mill engines Meat Bread flour

1837

1842

British Foreign origin origin

British Foreign origin origin

2-5 2.5

10

5

2-5 2-5

free

free

2-5 2.5

10

free free free free free

1848 1844

1845

British Foreign origin origin

10

10

10

10

4 7-5

4 4

free

free

10

10

10

4 7-5

10

2-5 2-5

10

free free

free free

free free

free free free

10

free

free free

free

free

free

free

10

1855

1859

30 30

15 15

15 15

4 4

15 15

free free free

free free free

free free free

15 15 i i i

15 15 I I I

free free

free free

free free

free free

10

free

12.5 free

free

4

4

10

free

free

SOURCE: New Brunswick, Statutes, 7 Will. IV, c.i; 5 Viet., c.r, 7 Viet., c.i; 8 Viet., c.2; 11 Viet., c.i; 18 Viet., c.i.

78 79 80 81

NB, RLE, 1850, Petitions, vol. 6, no.4i6. PANE. New Brunswick Courier, 10 Feb. 1843, 23 Feb. 1850. Noah Disbrow, 1853; William Jarvis, 1856, RG 7, RS 71, PANE. Partnership agreements, William Parks papers, F no.3, NBM. This figure does not include Park's personal estate. 82 Stephen Wiggins, 1853, RG 7, RS 71, PANE. 83 Gordon W. Bertram, 'Historical statistics on growth and structure in manufacturing in Canada, 1870-1957,' in J. Henripen and A. Asimakopulas, eds, Canadian Political Science Association, Conference on Statistics 1962 and 1963 (Toronto 1964), 122. The figures for Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia were $69.60, $62.60, $59.80, $30.70. 84 Saint John County's output totalled $8,312,627-, that of the province was $17,367,687. Canada, Census 0/1871, m, table LIV.

113 The great merchant and economic development in Saint John 85 McClelland, 'New Brunswick economy,' 124. 86 Ibid., tables xxn, xxxix. 87 The shipbuilding industry produced vessels to a value of $538,042 and employed 647 men. Foundry output, including fittings, nails, and tacks, was $786,000 (507 employees); clothing $826,660 (1,033 employees); footwear $539,230 (565 employees). Canada, Census,, 1871, in, tables xxi, xxn, xxm, xxiv, xxxvi, xxxvn, xxxix, XLV, LI, LII, LIII. 88 Ibid., table L. 89 The number of sawmills in the province had declined in the i86os. There were 609 water-powered and 80 steam-powered sawmills in 1861. Canada, Census, 1871, iv: 336-43. 90 Canada, Census, 1871, in, table XLVI. 91 Ibid., tables xxi, xxxvn. 92 Ibid., table xxxv. 93 Soil maps seem to indicate that the agricultural potential of the province is limited. However, since the arable area comprises several million acres of land, this source is only useful as an indicator of the upper limits of agricultural growth. In the short run the province possessed a considerable potential as the rapid growth of mid century reveals. 94 Acreage of cultivated land increased from 435,861 in 1840 to 1,171,157 in 1870, at a rate much more rapid than that of population growth. Consequently the number of cultivated acres per capita rose from 2.7 to 4.6. In the single decade of the i86os the number of farmers in the province rose by nearly 30 per cent; the population by 13 per cent. Canada, Census, 1871, in: 90-1, iv: 129, 336-43. 95 New Brunswick, Journal of the House of Assembly', 1841, cclxxvi-cclxxvii; 1856, clxiii-clxvi. 96 Flour and wheat to the value of £169,000 was imported in 1854. This compared with exports of 134,000 tons of timber valued at £165,000. Two years later the respective values of the two commodities was £286,000 and £160,000, and in 1855 imported flour and wheat totalled £377,000, a value rivalling the province's lumber output (£437,000). See New Brunswick, Journal of the House of Assembly, 1853, 1855, 1856, Customs House returns. 97 Canada, Census, 1881, in: 42-3, 120-1, 158-9. New Brunswick wheat output rose from 204,911 bushels in 1871 to 521,956 in 1881.

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ALAN FJ. ARTIBISE

Patterns of prairie urban development 1871-1950

Urban development on the prairies in the period prior to 1950 can be divided into three eras. During the first, stretching from the iSyos to 1913, numerous urban communities were established and many enjoyed a decade or more of rapid growth and prosperity. The general urban pattern of the region was set in these crucial years, and by 1913 five cities had emerged as dominant urban centres. These cities - Winnipeg, Regina, Saskatoon, Calgary, and Edmonton - have remained the primary urban concentrations of the region. The second era, which lasted until the early 19405, was a time of only moderate growth. During this period many cities suffered short-term population losses, while all prairie centres experienced severe economic difficulties. By the early years of World War n, however, a third era of renewed growth and prosperity was underway.1 Urban growth on the prairies as elsewhere has been affected by such diverse factors as general economic trends and the state of agricultural, transportation, and industrial technology. The surge of growth enjoyed by prairie cities in the first decade of this century, for example, was tied to Canada's general economic prosperity, just as the relative decline of the region's cities during the decade of the 19308 was in part the result of severe economic crisis throughout the western world. Similarly, the rapidity and degree of urbanization in the region after 1901 was related to the development of new agricultural practices and the expansion of railways. Like cities elsewhere, urban centres on the prairies were linked to and dependent upon external influences, and no study of urban development can be complete without recognizing these factors.2 Nevertheless, it is one thing to recognize that urban development is not independent of external influence and quite another to argue that it occurs

n6 Alan FJ. Artibise primarily as the result of these broad, impersonal factors. This kind of analysis, cultivated by some social scientists, tends to de-emphasize or ignore one of the principal ingredients affecting urban growth - the human factor.3 It is often the decisions of local elites which confer advantage unequally across the landscape in the process of urban development. The residents of cities respond to possibilities and problems, and their hopes, beliefs, energy, community spirit, initiative, and adaptability play an important role in determining the rate of growth, degree of prosperity, and the shape of a city.4 Indeed, at certain periods in a city's history, the role of individuals and groups is critical. Behind every large city there are a number of enterprising promoters, and the difference between big-city and small-town status comes in part from the different strategies followed by their respective decision makers.5 Even geographical advantage, that most important of fortuitious variables, requires human agency for translation into urban prosperity.6 Moreover, once decisions are made and opportunities taken or lost, subsequent development is more difficult to control since the structures (physical, economic, social, and political) put in place in one era usually outlast the people who put them there and impose constraints on later generations. The framework of growth, however hastily devised, can seldom be undone easily.7 This was certainly the case with the prairies' five major urban centres. In the early era of development, a marked fluidity existed when the opportunities for recruiting the acknowledged attributes of city status - population, major transportation facilities, capital investment - were open to all. Because the leaders of Winnipeg, Regina, Saskatoon, Calgary, and Edmonton reacted more effectively than did their rivals, these urban centres were rewarded with rapid growth and big-city status. In the second era, from 1914 to the early 19408, many of the structures, ideas, and routines that had worked in the past to fuel growth were no longer adequate. In many cases they became obstacles to continued or renewed growth, and the three decades following 1913 were taken up with repeated efforts to alter or overcome the negative effects of decisions made earlier. All five cities struggled to regain the initiative that was so important to continued success. The problems of the interwar era were aggravated by a long period of depression, but it is also true that only with great difficulty was it possible to redefine or reorder the earlier framework of growth to deal with current problems. By the early 19405,

ii 7 Patterns of prairie urban development some of the problems had been overcome and the five centres looked forward to better times. Yet the ability of the cities to take advantage of post-war prosperity was limited; although some changes had been made and some obstacles overcome, the framework remained relatively rigid. By the 19505 prairie cities were in most respects still tied to structures, ideas, and routines of a bygone era, and no amount of simple manoeuvring could alter this legacy in a major way. Growth in the post-1945 era occurred in spite of the framework and the efforts of urban elites rather than because of them. The argument that local people played a key role in determining the rate of growth and degree of prosperity of the five major prairie cities hinges on the ability of certain groups within those cities to make and implement critical decisions. Several case studies of prairie cities have shown that these communities were controlled, in virtually all respects, by small, close-knit elites.8 Decision making was relatively simple. From formulation to implementation, a small group controlled the process. Although several different organizations or institutions became involved along the way, membership in each overlapped sufficiently to ensure continuity from start to finish. Thus, even though a desire for a particular policy may have originated during lunch at an exclusive club or during a game of golf, it quickly moved up the hierarchy to discussion in the press, at the board of trade, and finally, to implementation by city council. Virtually the same individuals were involved at all stages. From club to church, counting house to city council, the urban elites formed an interlocking directorate. Decision making, in addition to being dominated by a small commercial elite, was also a closed process. Citizen participation is a post-1950 phenomenon; previously the commercial elites neither bothered about nor were bothered by significant opposition.9 A variety of factors, including a restricted franchise, plural voting, effective propaganda, and a centralized form of government, assured the elites that their conceptions of desirable public policy would prevail. But the influence of the elites also stemmed from a wide range of shared characteristics. The vast majority of the elite were Anglo-Saxon Protestants of relatively humble origin who had come west from the small towns and cities of the Maritimes and Ontario. Before migrating, many had gained considerable experience in promoting growth in eastern urban centres. Within their chosen communities, the commercial elites were the men who possessed the proverbial stake in the community.

n8 Alan FJ. Artibise Most were successful entrepreneurs who had built up personal fortunes in real estate or commerce or were in the process of doing so. Most also belonged to an astonishing array of business and social organizations.10 The similar backgrounds and associations of prairie urban elites meant that they were in frequent contact with each other: on the street, at meetings, in the club, at social events, and in church. Not surprisingly, this propinquity helped to generate a general consensus about urban growth and to expedite implementation of policies designed to encourage growth. The elite shared what might be called the booster spirit. While the booster mentality was made up of a web of beliefs and attitudes, a few stand out above the others: a belief in the desirability of growth and material success; a desire to encourage growth at the expense of virtually all other considerations; a high degree of community spirit within the local elite coupled with a high degree of distrust for competing elites in other centres; a scornful attitude toward organized labour, the poor, and anyone who did not support the growth ethic; a loose degree of attachment to Social Darwinism; a belief in the special role of local government; and, finally, a strong strain of realism.11 This last element was especially important. Though the philosophy or outlook of the prairie booster was surcharged with an optimism which sometimes resulted in self-deception, it was rarely blind to the essentials of urban growth. Boosters realized that the development of the prairies would result in the establishment of a large number of towns and villages linked to a limited number of commercial cities situated at the junction points of several railway lines. They also knew that the uniform topography of the prairies placed a large number of small centres on an almost equal footing as aspirants for the coveted big-city status. Only a few possessed natural advantages as town sites and these were either shared with others or were not sufficiently prominent to discourage rivals. Every booster knew, almost instinctively, that the telling distinction would be the initiative and skill of the community's leaders. The first era of prairie urban development began with the incorporation of Winnipeg as a city in 1873 and ended with the onset of a severe recession in 1913. Unlike subsequent eras, this one has been studied in some depth.12 In virtually every aspiring urban centre concerted efforts were made to facilitate growth. These policies took a variety of forms, including early city incorporations, massive boundary extensions, huge public works programs, deficit financing, special tax policies, railway promotion, immigration encouragement, industry attraction, municipal ownership, and efforts to attain status

TABLE i Population growth in selected prairie cities, 1871-1971 i8yi Winnipeg Calgary Edmonton Regina Saskatoon Moose Jaw Brandon St Boniface Lethbridge Medicine Hat Prince Albert Portage la Prairie Red Deer

1881

241 7,985 8oob 817 1,283 — —

1891

1901

1911

1921

1931

1941

25,639 3,867 300a i,68i c -

42,340 4,392 4,176 2,249 H3 1,558 5,620 2,019 2,072 3,020

136,035

179,087 63,305

218,785

30,213

34,432

3,901

5,892

221,960 88,904 93,817 58,245 43,027 20,753 17,383 18,157 14,612 10,571 12,508 7,187 2,924

I,200d 3,778

1,553 M70 3,363 —

43,704* 24,900 12,004

13,823 13,839

7,483 8,050

5,608

1,785

6,245

323

2,118

58,821* 25,739 19,285 15,397 12,821

11,907 9,634 7,352 6,766

2,328

83,761 79,187 53,209 43,291 21,299 17,082

16,305 13,489

10,300

9,905

6,597 2,344

1951 235,710 129,060 159,631* 71,319 53,268 24,355* 20,598* 26,342 22,947 16,364 17,149 8,511 7,575*

1961 265,429* 249,641* 281,027* 112,141* 95,526* 33,206* 28,166 37,6oo 35,454* 24,484* 24,168* 12,388* 19,612*

1971 246,246 403,319* 438,152* 139,469* 126,449* 31,854* 31,150 46,714* 41,217* 26,518* 28,464* 12,950 27,674*

SOURCE: Institute of Local Government, Urban population growth and municipal organization (Kingston 1973), table n-i. * Indicates change in census area since previous census year. a This is an approximation taken from City of Edmonton records. b The population of Regina in 1882-3 was between '800 and 900 souls.' E.G. Drake, Regina: the queen city (Toronto 1955), 22. c Ibid., 71. d This is an approximation. See Regina Leader, 16 June 1892.

120 Alan FJ. Artibise as both provincial capital and home of the provincial university. Policies differed in degree and kind from centre to centre, but no prairie community was immune to boosterism. The decisions made by urban elites were important factors in the determination of the pattern of urban development. In the case of Winnipeg, for example, 'the effects of the policies of the commercial elite on the urban geography of the region were striking. By defeating Selkirk in its bid for the railway, by winning freight rate and other concessions from the Canadian Pacific Railway, and by attaining control of the grain trade, merchant wholesalers and traders made possible the emergence of Winnipeg as the primate city of the eastern prairies.'13 In the absence of these efforts a more diffuse urban pattern would have emerged. Instead, in the relatively short span of four decades, five urban centres had bypassed their regional competitors and had gained a prominent place within the ranks of Canada's largest cities, as tables I, 2, and 3 reveal. Booster policies also affected the region's growth rate. In gross terms, urban growth in the prairie region in the decade preceding World War I surpassed that in all other regions of the country. Urban population jumped from 19.3 per cent of the total population in 1901 to 28.8 per cent in 1911, an increase of 9.5 per cent. However, tables 4 and 5 show that during this decade urban population growth in the Maritimes was 6.5 per cent, in Quebec 7.7 per cent, in Ontario 9.2 per cent, and in British Columbia 4.5 per cent. The prairie region's relative newness, together with the development of the wheat economy of the prairies, had much to do with this rapid rate of urbanization.14 Nevertheless, many of the immigrants and some of the capital investment that did come to the area might have gone elsewhere, had the urban elites throughout the prairies not made their massive efforts. Although the growth strategies pursued by Winnipeg, Calgary, Edmonton, Regina, and Saskatoon were successful in so far as these cities were the largest on the prairies by 1913, there is evidence to suggest that other centres - including several with greater initial advantages than the eventual winners - lost out partly because their leaders' policies and initiatives were not up to the competition. And in the absence of sufficient skill, natural advantages were incapable of sustaining growth in the long run. In general, leaders in the losing cities were more divided and complacent, and often confined their activities to broadsides in the press.15

TABLE 2 Population growth and change in major prairie cities, 1901-61 Winnipeg Number

1901 1906 1911 1916 1921 1926 1931 1936 1941 1946 1951 1956 1961

42,340 90,153 136,035 163,000 179,087 189,708 218,785 215,814 221,960 229,045 235,710 255,093 265,429

Regina

Saskatoon

Percentage change

Percentage Number change

Number

112.9 33-7 19.8 9-9 5-9 15.3 -14

2,249 6,169 30,213 26,127 34,432 37,329 53,209 53,354 58,245 60,246 7i,3i9 89,755 112,141

H3 3,011 12,004 21,048 25,739 31,234 43,291 41,734 43,027 46,028 53,268 72,858 95,526

2.8

3-2 2-9 8.2

4-1

—

174-3 389-7 -13-5 31.8 8.4 42.5 0.3 9-2 34 18.4 25-9 24.9

Edmonton

Calgary

Percentage change

Percentage Number change

Percentage Number change

2564.6 298.7 75-3 22.3 21.3 38.6 -3-6 3-1 7.0 15-7 36.8 31.1

4,176 11,126 24,900 53,846 58,821 65,163 79,187 85,774 93,8i7 113,116 159,631 226,002 281,027

SOURCES: Canada, Census, 1901—61; Census of the prairie provinces, 1926, 1936, 1946.

— 116.4 123.8 116.2 9.2 10.8 21.5 8.3 94 20.6

41. 1 70.7 24.3

4,392 11,967 43,704 56,514 63,305 65,291 83,761 83,407 88,904 100,044 129,060 181,780 249,641

172.5 265.2 29-3 12.0 3-1

28.3 -0.4

6.6 12.5 29.0 40.8 37-3

TABLE 3 Rank of selected Canadian cities by size, 1901-61 Rank i 2

3 4 5 6 7

8 9 10

ii 12 13 14 15

16 17 18 19 36 73 77 97 IIO

1901

I9II

1921

1931

1941

I95I

1961

Montreal Toronto Quebec Ottawa Hamilton

Montreal Toronto

Montreal Toronto

Montreal Toronto Vancouver

Montreal Toronto Vancouver

Montreal Toronto Vancouver

Montreal Toronto Vancouver

WINNIPEG

Halifax Saint John London Vancouver Victoria Kingston Brantford Hull Windsor Sherbrooke Guelph Charlottetown Trois-Rivieres CALGARY EDMONTON REGINA SASKATOON

WINNIPEG

WINNIPEG

Vancouver Ottawa Hamilton Quebec Halifax London

Vancouver Hamilton Ottawa Quebec

WINNIPEG

WINNIPEG

WINNIPEG

WINNIPEG

Hamilton Quebec Ottawa

Ottawa Quebec Hamilton

Ottawa Hamilton Quebec

CALGARY

CALGARY EDMONTON

Ottawa Quebec Hamilton Windsor

EDMONTON

EDMONTON

EDMONTON CALGARY

CALGARY

EDMONTON

Windsor London

Saint John Victoria

Halifax Saint John Victoria Windsor

REGINA EDMONTON

Brantford Kingston Peterborough Hull Windsor SASKATOON -

SOURCES: Canada, Census, 1931-61.

London

REGINA

London Windsor Verdun Halifax REGINA

Saint John

Brantford

SASKATOON

SASKATOON

Victoria Trois-Rivieres Kitchener -

Verdun Hull "

Halifax London CALGARY

Kitchener Victoria Saint John Thunder Bay REGINA

Sudbury

CALGARY

Halifax Victoria Kitchener Saint John Sudbury Thunder Bay

London Windsor Halifax Victoria Kitchener Sudbury REGINA

Thunder Bay Saint John

SASKATOON

REGINA SASKATOON

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

SASKATOON

—

123 Patterns of prairie urban development TABLE 4 Rural and urban population growth in the prairie provinces, 1901-51 (in thousands)

1901 1911 1921

1931 1941 1951

Manitoba

Saskatchewan

Alberta

Rural

Urban

Rural

Urban

Rural

64 193 269 343 360 440

86 413 630 735 704 579

6 80 128 187 192 252

61 264 411 504 531 489

192

269

341

357 370 337

Total prairies Urban

Rural

Urban

Urban percentage

12

339 946 1,382 1,596 1,605 1,405

81 383 574 758 818 1,142

19-3 28.8 29-3 32.2 33-7 44-8

110 177 228 266 450

SOURCE: Canada, Census, 1956, 'Analytical report: rural and urban population,' 26. NOTE: Urban population for the years 1901-31 represents the population residing in incorporated cities, towns, and villages of 1,000 and over and incorporated municipalities of this size range surrounding the larger cities which were later defined as parts of the census metropolitan areas. For 1941 and 1951 the urban figure also includes population residing in unincorporated suburban parts of major urban areas. TABLE 5 Percentage of population urban in Canada's regions, I90i~5i a Region

1901

1911

British Columbia Prairies Ontario Quebec Maritimes b

46.4 19-3 43-6 38.2 26.2

50.9 28.8 52.8 45-9 32.7

1921

U-5) c (9.5) (9.2) (7-7) (6.5)

56.1 29-3 60.7 52.0 37-9

1931

(5.2) (0.5) (7.9) (4.1) (5-2)

67.3 32.2 65.3 59-7 38.9

1941

(11.2) (2.9) (4-6) (7-7) (i.o)

67.8 33-7 69.2 61.7 42.9

1951

(0.5) (1-5) (3.9) (2.0) (4.0)

70.8 44.8 734 67.0 47-7

(3.0) (n.i) (4-2) (5.3) (4.8)

SOURCE: Canada, Census, of 1956, 'Analytical report: rural and urban population,' 26. a See definition in note to table 4. b Does not include Newfoundland in 1951. c Bracketed figures represent percentage increase for decade.

By 1913, the five major prairie cities had firmly established a framework for future development. While this framework included a variety of elements ranging from particular patterns of physical development to special tax policies and government structures, the key factor was the attitude of the deci-

124 Alan FJ. Artibise sion makers. The pre-1913 experience confirmed in the minds of the elites in all five cities that a booster mentality was essential to continued growth. More than ever before, the elites subscribed to the belief that 'cities are made by the initiative and enterprise of its citizens.'16 Not one of the tenets of the booster philosophy had been dislodged by experience. In terms of attitudes toward railways, immigration, industrial encouragement, labour, inter-city rivalries, and the role of government, the commercial elites of prairie cites entered the inter-war era intent on following past practices. Nineteen thirteen was a pivotal year in the history of prairie urban development. Behind was prosperity and rapid growth; ahead lay three decades of relative stagnation and almost continuous crisis. This second era in prairie urban development was one in which both the major cities and the region itself suffered substantial decline in growth rates. Four of the cities Winnipeg, Calgary, Regina, and Saskatoon - dropped in the ranking of Canadian cities by size between 1921 and 1941. In regional terms, the prairies switched from being the fastest to the slowest growing region in the country. The urban percentage of the prairies' population increased by only 4.9 per cent between 1911 and 1941, while the increase was 16.9 per cent in British Columbia, 16.4 per cent in Ontario, 15.8 per cent in Quebec, and 10.2 per cent in the Maritimes. This sharp decline took place within the context of general economic difficulties. A severe recession in 1913 was followed by the dislocation of war and a slow recovery, a dismal decade of depression in the 19305, and a second war. All these events adversely affected prairie urban development. But the fact that the prairie cities' decline was more rapid and their recovery slower than that experienced by other cities in other regions suggests that internal problems played a significant role in the process. The five major prairie cities faced both short-term and long-term difficulties. The immediate problems of the cities were financial, and most had their roots in the pre-war boom era. The debt problem was the most serious. In the years preceding 1914 the debts of all five cities had skyrocketed; capital commitments quite out of proportion to the true economic value of the cities' assessments and out of proportion to actual need had been made. The cities spent millions of dollars on excessive expansion into areas which remained vacant for years.17 Table 6 shows that four of the cities had the lowest population densities among Canada's twenty largest cities. This pattern of uneven development greatly increased both the initial and operating

TABLE 6 Area and density of population of Canada's twenty largest cities, 1931 Rank by pop. Montreal Toronto Vancouver WINNIPEG 3

Hamilton Quebec Ottawa CALGARY EDMONTON

London Windsor Verdun Halifax REGINA

Saint John SASKATOON

Victoria Trois-Rivieres Kitchener Brantford

Rank by density

i

3

2

2

3 4 5 6

14

7

8 9 10

ii 12 13 14

8 7 5 4 19 20 II

6 i 10

16 17 18 19

16 18 i? 15 9 13

20

12

15

Population 818,577 631,207 246,593 218,785 155,547 130,594 126,812 83,761 79,197 71,148 63,108 60,745 59,275 53,209 47 5 4I5 43,291 39,082 35,450 30,793 30,107

Land area in square miles

Pop. per square mile

Land area in acres

Pop. per square acre

46.75 34-00 43.96 23-93 15.15 8.99 8.27 40.50 42.50 11.30 5.01 2.23 6.88 13.14

17,510 18,565 5,610 9,H3 10,267 14,527 15,341 2,068 1,864 6,296 12,596 27,240 8,616 4,049 2,263 3-267 5,391 8,863 5,671 6,094

29,920 21,760 28,434 15,315 9,696 5,753 5,293 25,920 27,200 7,232 3,206 1,427 4,403 8,410 13,440 8,480 4,640 2,560 3,475 3,162

27 29 9 14 16 23 24 3 3

21.00 13.25 7-25 4-00

543 4-94

10 20

43 14 6 4 5 8 14 9 10

SOURCE: Canada, Census., of 1931. a If Winnipeg is combined with the adjacent city of St Boniface, the density per square mile drops to 5581 and per acre to 9.

126 Alan FJ. Artibise costs of providing utilities, streets, transportation, and school facilities. Besides throwing a heavy burden of annual debt charges upon the cities, the uncontrolled expansion of the pre-war years also greatly increased the current annual expenses so that for the whole of the 19208 the cities were barely able to maintain their plants.18 In terms of debenture debt alone, prairie cities had committed themselves to the following sums by mid 1913: Winnipeg, $28,000,000; Edmonton, $22,313,968; Calgary, $20,633,605; Regina, 84,036,151; and Saskatoon, $7,620,088.19 Some idea of the excessive nature of the debts of prairie cities is gained by comparing their per capita debt to that of other Canadian cities. In 1917, the general debenture debt per capita was $129 in Winnipeg, $313 in Regina, $290 in Saskatoon, $242 in Calgary, $359 in Edmonton, $265 in Vancouver, $108 in Halifax, $71 in Saint John, $160 in Montreal, $150 in Toronto, and $96 in Ottawa.20 It is true, of course, that the newly developed prairie cities could be expected to have greater per capita debts when compared to the long-established communities of central and eastern Canada. Unlike these centres, prairie cities had to put in place an entire urban infrastructure. But the significant differential between the regions cannot be explained by this factor alone. Central Canadian cities also grew rapidly in the pre-1913 era, but their per capita debts remained substantially lower than those of prairie cities.21 In the years following 1913, the huge debts of prairie cities were repaid only with a great deal of difficulty. In every community, expenditures were reduced as city councils attempted to pay heavy service charges. In Saskatoon, for example, many 'non-essential' services were ended and controllable expenditures were reduced by 52 per cent between 1914 and 1916. These reductions were accomplished by such measures as sharp cuts in city staff and decreases in appropriations for garbage removal, cleaning, and the maintenance of streets. The total annual expenditures of Saskatoon continued at a low level until 1920; only in that year did they again reach the 1913 figure.22 In Regina, a suddenly cautious city council adopted a parsimonious attitude toward relief expenditures in an attempt to deal with a drastic drop in revenues. In January 1922, for example, 'fifteen welfare recipients were ordered to do outdoor work at the city disposal works. These men, some without underwear, and all in thin shoes, socks, and coats, refused to work outside in fifty-four degrees of frost, and requested inside jobs instead. For this insubordination they were immediately cut off from all relief. Left

I2y Patterns of prairie urban development TABLE 7 Net assessment values in major prairie cities, 1901-51 (S million) Winnipeg

1901 1906 1911

1913 1916 1921

1926

1931 1936 1941

1946

1951

21.3 53-7 157.6 259.4 278.7 238.6 232.6 237.4 198.3 170.1 183.8 254.4

Regina

Saskatoon

_

_

5.8

2-5

26.9 69.5 51.2 43-9 39-5

474 42.1 40.7 41-3 51.6

23.3

56.3

37-6 27.8 28.3 34.6 33-6 31.0 31-9 41.0

Calgary

Edmonton

2.3

i-3

7-7 52.7 133.0 84.1 75.0 59.0 70.6 61.2

17.0

59-1 66.3 95-3

464 188.5 132.4 80.2 58.8 66.4 54-0 56.2 77.2 134.4

SOURCES: Winnipeg municipal manuals., 1919, 1934, 1960; Regina financial statement, 1928, 1933, 1962; Saskatoon municipal manual, 1975; Calgary municipal manual, 1960; and Edmonton financial statement, 1935, 1952.

without food, shelter, or sufficient clothing, the desperate men appealed to city council.' The majority of council at first refused to consider the case, asking, 'Must we feed the whole community at the expense of citizens?' Only the pleading of MJ. Coldwell, a labour alderman, resulted in their receiving one night's shelter and the promise of an investigation.23 Winnipeg's overall budget was also cut in the years after 1913; the city's 1926 budget was almost $300,000 less than it had been in 1921, despite the fact that the demand for services increased considerably. Expenditures on public improvements were also reduced. During the years 1921-4, expenditures totalled only $4 million, representing about one-quarter of the physical volume of similar work carried out in a four-year pre-war period.24 By 1925 Winnipeg was spending 29 per cent of its total budget on debt charges. The same figure for cities in Saskatchewan was 43 per cent; in Alberta it was 32 per cent. A similar figure for Ontario was only 22 per cent.25 A study of Calgary finances, published in 1956, concluded: In 1921 debt charges reached 18 mills out of a total mill rate of 46.6 mills, and for several years was nearly one-third of the budget. The city never quite recovered

128 Alan FJ. Artibise TABLE 8 Value of tax arrears and acquired land (vacant and improved) in major prairie cities, 1901-51 ($000)

1901 1906 1911

1913 1916

1921

1926

1931 1936 1941 1946

1951

Winnipeg

Reginaa

273 442 798 984

_ 62C

3,168 4,645 4,931 5,320

194 612 518 411 684

12,000

1,389

9,123 621

3,042

786 972 570

Saskatoon

_ 322 C 692

1,002 1,425

1,860 1,456 3,094 3,176 1,559 1,095

Calgary

Edmonton

_ 534 3,497 5,852 5,482

8,423 6,592

4,471 6,406 5>059 3,152 2,128

5,445 6,154 2,998 1,069 1,676

2 2b 208

1,082 5,250

SOURCES: Calgary financial statement, 1913-51; Saskatoon municipal manual, 1975; R.M. Haig, The exemption of improvements in Canada and the United States (New York 1915); Edmonton financial statement, 1901-51; Winnipeg financial statement, 1901-51; Regina financial statement, 1901-51. a Acquired land in Regina is recorded at a nominal value of one dollar. The figures shown for Regina, therefore, are for arrears only, b Figures are for 1905. c Figures are for 1912.

until recently, despite the somewhat better times of the late 19208, and with the depression of the thirties the city debt was made bearable only by the introduction of the Fortin Refunding Plan in 1937. The essentials of the Fortin Plan were that it lightened the load of annual charges by extending the term of debt to 25 years.26

The burden of the huge debts piled up during the boom was intensified in the years after 1913. As tables 7 and 8 reveal, assessments and hence revenues fell rapidly, and there was a dramatic increase in tax arrears. Urban land was assessed at highly inflated values and many owners forfeited their land to local governments instead of paying taxes. The taxation of remaining properties therefore had to be increased to obtain the same total revenue. If

129 Patterns of prairie urban development the property tax had included buildings and improvements as well as land, or if it had assessed buildings and improvements at a higher rate, taxes on land as such would have been lower and land-owners would have had greater incentive to keep their land. As it was, many urban lots assessed at inflated 1913 values were taxed prohibitively in terms of both the incentive and ability of many owners to pay. Municipal financial stability suffered a particularly fatal blow because of the amount of land owned by non-residents, most of whom held land only for speculation and defaulted on their tax liabilities. Since the annual taxes on their property represented a high proportion of what they might salvage, most allowed the municipalities to take over their lands. The general conditions experienced by the five prairie cities in respect to assessments, revenues, and tax arrears can best be understood by specific examples. In Saskatoon, the city's total revenue for 1913 was $856,714; in 1914, $805,528; and it continued to drop until 1920. Only in 1921 did revenue exceed the 1913 figure. In 1917, 1919, 1920, 1925, and 1930 Saskatoon suffered a deficit, and after 1930 Saskatoon, like most prairie centres, began to run a deficit for several years in a row.27 During the period after 1913 Saskatoon also saw a great deal of property pass into the hands of the civic corporation through the failure of owners to continue tax payments.28 In Winnipeg, Calgary, and Regina the total revenue of the cities also dropped for a time and then remained relatively stable throughout the 19208. All cities received thousands of lots for non-payment of taxes.29 The total number of lots in Winnipeg in 1923, for example, was 110,000, and of this number 43,648 were forfeited to the city. The percentage of the voters whose property was taxed for the expenses of the city was only 28 per cent.30 The financial situation was most severe in Edmonton. Following the tax sale of 1918, 30,189 lots, valued at $6,230,000 and carrying tax arrears of $1,800,000, were forfeited to the city. By the end of the year, the cumulative total of tax arrears in Edmonton was $8,000,000. During the decade of the 19208 the financial situation did not improve substantially. Between 1920 and 1929, 43 per cent of the total area of the city (excluding the area occupied by streets) was forfeited in lieu of taxes.31 The assumption that Edmonton - and other prairie cities - were fortunate to have become the owners of so much land is facile. Since Edmonton was carrying a debt during the 19205 that averaged well over $10,000,000 per year, the city acquired the land at

130 Alan F.J. Artibise the expense of large sums in tax revenues.32 Faced with mounting financial difficulties, the Edmonton city council cut back on services. The budgets of several city departments were reduced, relief expenditures were curtailed, and, during 1914, contracts already signed for sewer construction were broken. By 1921, the decline in appropriations for street maintenance resulted in a need 'for urgent repair,' while garbage removal services fell below a level necessary 'if the City [was] to be kept in a clean and tidy condition.'33 Since little maintenance was carried out during the 19205, or during the depression and war that followed, by 1945 Edmonton was 'run down,' with a 'backlog of deferred public works ... which had to be cleared out of the way.' In the post World War n period, Edmonton's per capita debt surged upward to become by 1953 the highest in Canada.34 In all five prairie cities attempts were made to shore up the crumbling financial structures of the civic corporations. Most notably, in a move away from the single-tax philosophy which had been deliberately adopted in the pre-1913 era, a tax on buildings and improvements was either reintroduced or increased as an attempt was made to increase tax revenues.35 In Edmonton, beginning in 1918, buildings which formerly had been exempt were to be taxed at 60 per cent of their value. Calgary increased its rate of assessment from 25 per cent in 1913 to 50 per cent by 1919, while Saskatoon increased the rate from 25 per cent to 35 per cent in 1920, and then to 45 per cent in 1922. Other taxes were also increased or introduced during the period following 1913. Calgary instituted a business tax in 1916; Edmonton in 1918. The latter city also obtained authority to impose an income tax on a progressive rate, rising from I per cent on the first $1,000 to 8 per cent on all income over Si0,000. Despite liberal exemptions this tax produced a fairly good revenue for the three years 1918-20, but it was repealed in 1921 when the provincial government refused to authorize its continuance. Saskatoon also introduced a civic income tax and an amusement tax. In all cities, however, taxation of real property continued to be the principal source of revenue, providing well over 80 per cent of municipal income.36 Sharply curtailed expenditures and the broadened tax bases did enable all the prairie cities to struggle through World War I and the 19208. But they did so only at great hardship to their residents. Table 9 shows how sharply the burden of taxation rose for property owners. Perhaps this development was fair, since many property owners in the cities were speculators, but this still left in all centres a large number upon whom the real property tax was a

131 Patterns of prairie urban development TABLE 9 General tax rates in major prairie cities, 1901-51 (in mills)

1901

1906 1911

1913

1916 1921

1926

1931 1936 1941 1946

1951

Winnipeg

Regina

20.5 17.9

22.0

13.2 13.0

15-7

30.0 28.0

34-5 34-5 36-5 40.0 44-5

15.0 18.1 14.0 23-3 43-o 41.0 48.0 50.0 49-5 50.0 61.0

Saskatoon

_ 18.0 18.0 18.0 46.5 45-0 45-0 454 45-0 44-3 44-5 55.0

Calgary

Edmonton

20.0

I8.7

21.5 10.5 13-7 16.0

21.5

21.0

46.6

39-9 44-3 49-5 55.0 51-5 49-5 56.0

22.0 14.5

41.7

47-0 56.0 44-5 46.0 60.0

SOURCES: Winnipeg municipal manual, 1927, 1945, 1961; Regina financial statement, 1928, J 933) 1962; Saskatoon municipal manual, 1975; Calgary municipal manual, 1974; Edmonton financial statement, 1926, 1959; and 'City of Edmonton Statistics,' City of Edmonton Archives.

heavy burden. The vast majority of the cities' residents had the bulk of their wealth in real estate, and they were forced to carry a greater part of government expenditures than those with other forms of property. In other words, the increased taxation of the 19208 differentiated between groups of property owners. While many did manage to meet their tax bills, a large number did not.37 The problems associated with the tax systems of prairie cities were magnified in Calgary when a program of granting 'relief to taxation' to certain areas of the city was adopted in 1915. The areas in question were parcels of land where, in the judgment of the city assessor, land was suitable only for agricultural purposes. The owners of these parcels of agricultural land had their taxes reduced by 25 per cent, and by 1917 owners of at least 20,000 acres had applied for tax relief.38 These measures were obviously designed to relieve the tax burden on owners of certain properties and could be defended on the grounds that any tax revenue from such property was better than none - a situation that might have occurred had the lands passed into the

132 Alan F.J. Artibise city's hands for non-payment of taxes. However, these parcels of land, many of which were already subdivided, had in virtually all cases been developed by speculators, and the grant of tax relief to this group only increased the burden on the rest of the community.39 It is important to note that the city's boosters, in the face of these severe difficulties, continued to implement policies designed to promote growth. Even while essential services were being cut or reduced and relief expenditures curtailed, public funds were expended or committed in the continuing search for renewed prosperity. Boards of trade continued to receive substantial civic funds to finance their activities, promotional literature continued to be printed and distributed, and tax concessions and other forms of'bonusing' were still held out to various businesses.40 In no city was the entire strategy of planning for growth reviewed and found wanting. There was some tinkering with the mechanisms, but no major overhaul. It was against this backdrop that prairie cities entered the dismal decade of the 19308. Although the majority of residents suffered severe hardship during these years, the onset of the depression was not so much an abrupt beginning of problems for prairie urban centres as it was a deepening of problems already present. In the ten years following 1929, the five major cities came close to financial collapse. To the already massive burden of debt was added the problem of major relief expenditures. Moreover, the depression brought with it further decreases in assessment values and increased tax arrears and tax rates (see tables 7, 8, and 9). In an attempt to solve their problems, the cities took out bank loans with tax arrears as collateral. When arrears continued to mount and the banks refused further loans, payments to sinking funds were waived and money was 'borrowed' from city-controlled trust accounts and sinking funds. These practices, in turn, did much to damage the cities' credit ratings and by the early 19308 few were able to sell any of their bonds on the open market.41 In May 1933, for example, a member of the investment firm of James Richardson and Sons wrote the Calgary Brewing and Malting Company regarding the latter's investment in city of Calgary bonds. The letter ended with this advice: 'While, no doubt, you feel that in some way you may like to hold bonds of the city in which your head office is situated, we would like to point out that the city, by extreme mismanagement of their civic affairs, have not extended to corporations any attraction or assistance in making Calgary an attractive centre through reasonable taxes and sensible government.'42

133 Patterns of prairie urban development Although the cities all survived the depression, they did so only at tremendous cost to future generations. The methods used to deal with the financial crisis varied in detail from city to city, but all had characteristics in common. All five cities clung to the taxation of real property as their main source of revenue, refusing to adopt new taxation policies that would have spread the burden more evenly across the population on an ability-to-pay basis. Although the municipalities were prevented from entering some lucrative fields of taxation by the provinces, there were no legal reasons why they could not have made significant adjustments in terms of removing exemptions, reviewing assessment policies, or increasing the rate of taxation on improvements. All of these measures would have increased revenues and generally lowered the tax rate for all but a few in the city. Lower tax rates, in turn, might have enabled more property owners to hang on to their land rather than turning it over to the city for non-payment of taxes.43 A second characteristic of the prairie cities' response to the problems of the 19308 was that they all approached the question of relief of the unemployed in a parsimonious manner. Although all the cities provided some form of assistance to the poor and unemployed, they did so in a niggardly fashion. Because the urban elites believed that prosperity would soon return and end their difficulties, prairie cities wrote off the unemployed as a temporary problem.44 This attitude was also behind the third characteristic of urban policy in this period. All the cities adopted a policy of economic contraction and retrenchment: budgets were slashed, borrowing for public works was stopped, employees were let go, and salaries were cut. The effect, of course, was to slow down an already sluggish economy and to leave for the post-depression period a backlog of deferred public works.45 A fourth characteristic was that the elites attempted to refund their massive debts, spreading the costs of past mistakes well into the future. In Edmonton and Calgary, for example, the Fortin Refunding Plan, adopted in 1937, provided for the consolidation of all funded debts and extended the maturity date for twenty-five years. Only in this way were these cities saved from financial collapse.46 During the depression the prairie cities turned to both provincial and federal governments for assistance. There is no doubt that help was needed, but the type of aid sought and received was not in the best interests of the cities. Instead of insisting on a reallocation of responsibilities and financial resources, the cities accepted funds raised by the senior levels of govern-

134 Alan FJ. Artibise ment. Thus, while the cities were expected to administer relief funds, actual control and regulation passed out of local hands. In other words, the grants received from senior governments were conditional grants that seriously impaired local autonomy. Local autonomy was lost in two ways: municipalities 'were told what to do and given the money (or some of the money) to do it. Or they were given the option of taking money on certain conditions or not at all. In the former case the compulsion was explicit; in the latter implicit. In either case, local autonomy was compromised. Identification of problems and the establishment of priorities could not be determined in the locality. Responsibility for problems and the power to solve them (especially fiscal powers) was separated.'47 This pattern, once established, was in later years extended far beyond grants for unemployment relief. In many provinces, for example, the provincial governments were 'firm and rigid in forcing municipalities into systematic debt retirement plans.'48 All of these methods of coping with the financial crisis of the 19308 had long-range consequences for prairie urban development. In 1939, however, when war brought an end to the depression, the most significant fact about prairie cities was that the government elites in each clung stubbornly to the outmoded booster policies of the past - policies that by then contributed to rather than solved problems. Several elements of the booster mentality, born and nurtured in the pre-war boom era, were especially harmful. The elites in each city continued to see each other as competitors. This attitude had made some sense in the fluid pre-1914 period but was a serious problem after 1918. By the end of World War I, it was clear that substantial growth on the prairies could come only in the form of the development of a diversified economic base. The civic elites recognized this but attempted to achieve diversification on an individual rather than a co-operative basis. They failed to see that their problem lay not in the relative advantage of one city over another, but in the disadvantageous position of the prairies vis-d-vis central Canada. The national policy and discriminatory freight rates had long before condemned the prairies as a colonial hinterland, subject to the mercantile aspirations of the politically dominant central Canada. And in this situation, it is arguable that solutions lay in provincial and regional (or even interregional) co-operation rather than in inter-city rivalry.49 Instead of co-operation, however, the inter-war years were marked by rivalry. In Saskatchewan, for example, inter-city rivalry prevented the early development of a publicly owned and efficiently run power corporation, thus

135 Patterns of prairie urban development retarding rather than expediting the chances of industrial development in the urban centres of the province.50 Throughout the period, inter-city rivalry over the question of freight rates continued to divide the prairie region into competing camps.51 And all cities continued to compete for new industry by following a ruinous policy of 'bonusing.'52 The individualistic attitudes of prairie urban elites also worked to their disadvantage in another way. In their search for renewed growth in the 19208 and 193085 prairie cities encouraged the influx of eastern Canadian and multinational firms. This approach brought immediate gains, but over time it meant that local control over the cities' economies was reduced. In addition, the individuals who managed the branches of national or international firms rarely sank roots in the cities since they were almost certain to be transferred in due course to central Canada or the United States. The consequence was that capital as well as entrepreneurial ability was not as available to prairie firms as it was to their counterparts in central Canadian cities. Also, in contrast to the pre-war boom era when numerous private banks - and even several chartered banks - were owned by westerners, the inter-war era saw banking facilities on the prairies come to consist almost exclusively of branches of central Canadian banks, staffed by temporary residents and authorized by their respective head offices to extend loans only to certain prescribed limits. In 1925, for example, the Union Bank, which had its head office in Winnipeg, was taken over by the Royal Bank of Canada which had its head office in Montreal.53 Furthermore, the relative importance of the locally controlled sector of prairie cities' economies tended to diminish in a cumulative way as large local firms, offered for sale upon the retirement of their founders, were purchased by central Canadian or American corporations rather than by local interests.54 Even more significant than the lack of co-operation in these areas was the fact that the elites of prairie cities did not begin or support any political movement designed to alter significantly national policy. The regional protest movements that did spring up - the United Farmers, the Progressives, Social Credit - provided ample scope to bring about significant change in the relationship of the prairies and central Canada, yet all failed to achieve their major goals. One of the chief reasons for this failure was a lack of support from the conservative business elites of the cities.55 Indeed, instead of the problems of the 19208 and 19308 working to bridge the gulf that had grown up between city and farm, the gulf widened during these decades.56 Although

136 Alan FJ. Artibise urban elites cannot alone be held responsible for the ultimate failure of prairie protest in the inter-war period, their lack of support contributed to the eventual disintegration of the movements. The agrarian protesters failed to develop cohesive party platforms; organized protest parties remained weak because they represented only the interests of farmers rather than the interests of all groups within the region.57 This failure to rationalize relationships within either the provinces or the region was coupled with an equally serious failure to come to terms with other groups in the cities, particularly labour and non-Anglo-Saxons. Boosterism not only acted as a screen shielding urban elites from the realities of regional economic problems, but it also screened them from the realities of social and economic inequality within the cities. Advocates and supporters of boosterism were intent on creating a community spirit based on voluntarism, without any basic revision to the system of economic inequity and social injustice that existed in all prairie cities. They promoted the notion that all classes and groups shared the same basic interests and goals; that the various groups - management and labour, Anglo-Saxon and non-Anglo-Saxon, rich and poor - could be united solely on the basis of faith in the city, belief in its destiny, and commitment to its growth. The community image, fostered by prairie urban boosters, was fashioned more out of will than out of reality, more out of wishful thinking than out of experience. While the civic and business elites talked about understanding and common ties, about creating a store of wealth to benefit all citizens, they were generally unconcerned about the vast majority of city residents. The attitudes of civic elites towards groups within the city had serious shortcomings. The belief that everyone in the cities shared the same interests and goals and could be content with the leadership of a select group of businessmen was simply false. Class and ethnic differences in prairie cities were real and could not be confronted or denied by the 'unifying' ideas of civic boosterism. The belief that growth would somehow solve all problems was undoubtedly a comforting thought for the elite, but it precluded any genuine understanding of the realities of both growth and community. For example, the attitudes and policies of the elites resulted in a weak labour movement and a steady slippage of wages within the Canadian spectrum.58 And, contrary to popular belief, weak unions and low wages did not promote investment and growth. Indeed, these conditions '[sapped] the strength and

137 Patterns of prairie urban development drawing power of local consumer market [s], and [dissuaded] employers from making the effort to improve efficiency and to innovate.'59 Thus the image the elites attempted to foster tended to retard rather than to stimulate growth.60 It did not allow all groups in the city to have a voice in the orientation of their community in specific directions. In fact, many of the citizens were frustrated and discontented, and the lack of a widely held set of values meant that the community could not be mobilized to promote the cities' potential. Continuing tensions within the cities diverted attention from their main problem - their rigid relationship to the Canadian economy - and the almost exclusive orientation of the elites to immediate growth blinded them to the possibilities of long-term development. The cities in the interwar years were reactive: they responded to external events that seemed beyond their control; they induced - or attempted to induce - new industries to locate without deciding whether the net effect was good or bad; and they permitted private and public bodies to make decisions that would not be reversible for generations. The third era of prairie urban development began with the outbreak of World War n. Stimulated by a war economy prairie cities were, by the early 19408, showing signs of coming out of their long slump. But while the prairies experienced a rate of urban growth greater than that of any other region, they remained the least urbanized section of the country. Within the region, the growth achieved by the five major cities was uneven. Winnipeg, Regina, and Saskatoon witnessed only moderate growth. While Winnipeg and Saskatoon retained their respective positions in the hierarchy of Canadian cities, Regina declined in rank from seventeenth to eighteenth place. Moreover, each of these cities' rate of growth for the decade 1941-51 fell below the national average of 29 per cent.61 In contrast, Calgary and Edmonton grew rapidly as they benefited from the expansion of the oil and gas industry in Alberta. Both grew much faster than the national average and both moved up the hierarchy of Canadian cities. The most significant observation that can be made about the decade of the 19405, however, is that there were no fundamental structural changes in the economies of the cities. Table 10 shows that all five centres remained heavily dependent upon the processing of regional primary products and the collection and distribution of goods for their regional hinterlands. Although there was some modest change in the economies of the five major cities, none of

138 AlanFJ. Artibise TABLE 10 Industrial distribution of the labour force of major prairie cities, 1931-51 by percentage3 Sector6

Winnipeg 1931 1941 1951 Regina 1931 1941 1951 Saskatoon 1931 1941 1951

Primary

Secondary

Tertiary

2.2

25.6 31-3 33-1

65.2 66.4 65.5

22.8 21. 1 20.2

69.8 74-1 76.4

20.2 19.6 22.6

70.1 76.3 74-7

26.4 28.0 32.0

64-7 68.0 66.0

22.2

68.3 68.8 67.1

1.4 0.7

2.2 2.2 1-4

2.6

3-1 2.1

Calgary 1931 1941 1951

3-7 2.9

Edmonton 1931 1941 1951

4-6 2.9

1.2

I.O

27-3 31.0

SOURCE: Adapted from tables in P.A. Phillips, 'Structural change and population distribution in the prairie region: 1911-1961' (unpublished MA thesis, University of Saskatchewan 1963). a Comparable figures are not available for earlier years, b The primary sector includes agriculture, fishing, hunting, and trapping. The secondary sector includes mining, manufacturing, utilities, and construction. The tertiary sector includes transportation and communications, trade, finance, insurance, and service.

139 Patterns of prairie urban development them was able to supplement significantly its basic central place function with manufacturing and other national market activities. Although cities like Edmonton and Calgary would continue to grow rapidly as a result of the exploitation of non-renewable natural resources, the prospect of long-term growth for the prairie region's cities was poor without substantial economic diversification.62 In short, the prairie urban system displayed a substantial degree of stability into the early 19508. Though the system was modified by technological and product changes in agriculture, by changes in marketing institutions, by changes in transportation systems and technology, and by a shift in the centre of population westward, these were changes of degree rather than kind. Winnipeg's hinterland shrank and Calgary's and Edmonton's expanded, but the urban structure remained deeply rooted in the agricultural staple economy.63 This overview of prairie urban development suggests a number of tentative conclusions. In the first period of development, from 1870 to 1913, although urban growth proceeded from a multiplicity of causes, the structures put in place by growth-conscious civic elites played a significant role in determining the rate and pattern of urbanization. But the framework for growth established in the early stages of development contained an implicit contradiction since the policies which fueled growth in one era did not work in another. The free-wheeling boosterism of the pre-1913 period was well suited to the time. When conditions changed, the very success of the framework made changes to it difficult; the old formula was viewed as successful and new, 'radical' approaches were not easily or often adopted. Even if new structures had been introduced, it is doubtful if they would have had much impact. As prairie cities developed, their citizens lost more and more control over their own destinies. The introduction of provincial controls through various agencies precluded certain actions being taken by city councils.64 Similarly, the federal government increased its financial and jurisdictional control. Together with the growth of branch plants and branch banking, these developments stripped the cities of much of their autonomy. By 1950, they had little power to initiate solutions to their own problems. Furthermore, since urban patterns, once firmly established, tend to become fairly stable, especially in terms of the relative relationships of cities within the system, individual and group decisions do not have much impact on urban growth. In the absence of major changes which significantly alter economic

140 Alan FJ. Artibise relationships, the urban pattern on the prairies is thus unlikely to change dramatically in the future.65 Two examples illustrate this point. Substantial new growth in prairie cities is most likely to occur if they could acquire some of the national market activities (like manufacturing) now performed by central Canadian cities.66 But the latter's numerous advantages over their prairie rivals make this unlikely to occur: the assumption of such functions as manufacturing would require assistance (technological and financial) from the established central Canadian cities. Secondly, cities like Montreal and Toronto have a great initial advantage since they are already much larger than prairie cites and size itself enhances the ability to grow.67 Indeed, since prairie cities are already hinterlands of central Canada, their growth supports the dominant metropolitan centres by emphasizing the importance of the specialized services and products concentrated there. Economic progress, characterized by the adoption of newly developed products and services, tends to confirm the ascendancy of the already established metropolitan centre: innovations are customarily introduced first in such centres, and from here their subsequent general distribution tends to be controlled. The size achieved and resources acquired by the metropolitan centre on the basis of undisputed ascendancy during the initial development of the hinterland, prove to be secular advantages which powerfully support continuing ascendancy.68

Within the prairie region, the same process is at work. Winnipeg's initial advantage over other prairie cities has slowed their growth. In recent years, Edmonton and Calgary bypassed Winnipeg only because they benefited from the discovery and exploitation of rich natural resources. This does not mean that prairie cites are necessarily doomed to remain colonies of central Canada, or that the human element has no further role to play in influencing urban growth. It does mean that regardless of local growth policies, prairie cities are circumscribed by their region's hinterland position within the national economy.69 Since established urban patterns can consciously be altered only if the national economy is altered, changes must proceed from the political arena.70 But the possibility of a political solution is unlikely given prairie cities unwillingness to co-operate with each other or with their rural hinterlands. The key to success in the future lies in the recognition by prairie cities of their dependence on the resources of the

141 Patterns of prairie urban development entire region; only when regional equality within Canada is achieved will prairie cities be able to look forward again to substantial growth.71 NOTES 1 For two general surveys of prairie urban development, see K. Lenz, 'Large urban places in the prairie provinces - their development and location,' in R.L. Gentilcore, ed., Canada's changing geography (Toronto 1967), 199-211; and L.D. McCann, 'Urban growth in western Canada, 1881-1961,' The Albertan Geographer 5 (1969): 65-74. 2 For excellent discussions of some theories of urban growth, see Peter G. Goheen, 'Industrialization and the growth of cities in nineteenth-century America,' American Studies 14 (spring 1971): 49-65; and J. Simmons, The evolution of the Canadian urban system,' in Alan FJ. Artibise and Gilbert A. Stelter, eds, The usable urban past: politics and planning in the modern Canadian city (Toronto 1979), 9~343 One of the most recent examples is G.A. Nader, Cities of Canada, 2 vols. (Toronto 1975-6)4 While this idea is hardly new, it has not been examined in any depth in terms of Canadian urban development. Two of the best studies to date are J.M.S. Careless, 'The development of the Winnipeg business community, 1870-1890,' Royal Society of Canada, Transactions vm, ser. 4 (1970): 239-54; and E.H. Dale, 'The role of the city council in the economic and social development of Edmonton, 1892-1966' (unpublished PHD thesis, University of Alberta 1966). 5 Goheen, 'Growth of cities,' 53. 6 Robert R. Dykstra, The cattle towns (New York 1974), 3-5. 7 HJ. Dyos and M. Wolff, The way we live now,' in Dyos and Wolff, eds, The Victorian city: images and realities (London and Boston 1973), n: 893-48 See, for example, Alan FJ. Artibise, Winnipeg: a social history of urban growth, 1874-1914 (Montreal and London 1975); Artibise, Winnipeg: an illustrated history (Toronto 1977); J.E. Rea, 'Political parties and civic power, 1919-1975,' in Artibise and Stelter, eds, The usable urban past\ Max Foran, Calgary: an illustrated history (Toronto 1978); E.G. Drake, Regina: the queen city (Toronto 1955); Dale, 'Edmonton'; L.H. Thomas, 'Saskatoon, the formative years, 1883-1920,' in Alan FJ. Artibise, ed., Town and city: aspects of western Canadian urban development (Regina: Canadian Plains Research Center, 1981); Keith Foster, The role of the commercial elite in the development of Moose Jaw' (unpublished paper, Saskatchewan Archives, Regina 1976); and James D. Anderson, The municipal government reform movement in western Canada, 1880-1920,' in Artibise and Stelter, eds, The usable urban past. 9 The exception to this generalization is Winnipeg where, after 1919, the commercial elite faced significant opposition from labour forces. The businessmen, however, 'never once lost control of the Council...' See Rea, 'Parties and power.'

142 Alan FJ. Artibise 10 For typical examples see Artibise, Winnipeg: a social history, 23-42; Foran, Calgary, Paul Voisey, 'In search of wealth and status: an economic and social study of entrepreneurs in early Calgary,' in A.W. Rasporich and Henry Klassen, eds, Frontier Calgary, 1875-1914 (Calgary 1975), 221-41; and the capsule biographies in C.W. Parker, ed., Who's who in western Canada (Vancouver 1911). 11 Alan FJ. Artibise, 'Boosterism and the development of Prairie cities, 1871-1913,' in Artibise, ed., Town and city. 12 Ibid. See also Paul Voisey, The urbanization of the Canadian prairies, 1871-1916,' Histoire sociale/Social History vm, no.15 (1975): 77-101; J.M.S. Careless, 'Aspects of urban life in the west, 1870-1914,' in Gilbert A. Stelter and Alan FJ. Artibise, eds, The Canadian city: essays in urban history (Toronto 1977), 125-41; Thomas, 'Saskatoon'; Dale, 'Edmonton'; and Rasporich and Klassen, Frontier Calgary. 13 Donald Kerr, 'Wholesale trade on the Canadian plains in the late nineteenth century: Winnipeg and its competition,' in Howard Palmer, ed., The settlement of the west (Calgary 1977), 151-2. 14 K.H. Norrie, The rate of settlement of the Canadian prairies,' Journal of Economic History xxxv (1975): 410-27. 15 Studies of the 'losers' are, unfortunately, not numerous, but see, for example, R.C. Bellan, 'Rails across the Red - Selkirk or Winnipeg,' Manitoba Historical and Scientific Society Transactions ser. m, no.iS (1961-2): 69-77; Artibise, Winnipeg: a social history, chap. 4; Jean E. Murray, The provincial capital controversy in Saskatchewan,' Saskatchewan History v (1952): 81-105, and The contest for the University of Saskatchewan,' Saskatchewan History xn (1959): 1-22; Bruce Kilpatrick, 'A lesson in boosterism: the contest for the Alberta provincial capital, 1904-1906,' Urban History Review vm (February 1980): 47-109; Gary Abrams, Prince Albert: the first century, 1866-1966 (Saskatoon 1966); James G. MacGregor, Alberta: a history (Edmonton 1972); John F. Gilpin, The city of Strathcona, 1891-1912' (unpublished MA thesis, University of Alberta 1978); and Keith A. Foster, 'Moose Jaw: the first decade, 1882-1892' (unpublished MA thesis, University of Regina 1978). 16 Regina Leader, 16 Jan. 1930. 17 See, for example, maps of Edmonton and Saskatoon in Norman Harris, 'What's what in western real estate,' Saturday Night, I June, 13 July 1912. 18 See I.M. Nicoll, 'Urban municipal finance in a period of expansion: a study of the city of Edmonton' (unpublished MA thesis, University of Alberta 1950), 112, passim; and John Weaver, 'Edmonton's perilous course, 1904-1929,' Urban History Review 2-77 (October 1977): 20-32. 19 Henry Howard, Canada, the western cities: their borrowings and assets (London 1914). 20 Commission of Conservation, Urban and rural development in Canada (Ottawa 1917), 26. The figures cited are based on general debenture debt after deducting sinking fund and property owners' share of local improvements, but including debt of public utilities. The per capita debt excluding public utilities debt was $40 in Winnipeg; $130 in Regina; $150 in Saskatoon; $100 in Calgary; $170 in Edmonton; $218 in

143 Patterns of prairie urban development

21 22 23 24

25

26

27 28 29

30 31 32 33 34 35

36

Vancouver; $71 in Halifax; $11 in Saint John; $84 in Toronto; and $57 in Ottawa. Figures were not given for Montreal. For example, Ottawa grew from 59,928 in 1901 to 87,062 in 1911; Toronto, from 208,040 to 376,471; and Montreal, from 267,730 to 467,986. P.R. Creighton, 'Taxation in Saskatoon: a study in municipal finance' (unpublished MA thesis, University of Saskatchewan 1925), chap. 4. Drake, Regina, 179-80. See City of Winnipeg, Submission to Royal Commission on Dominion-Provincial Relations (Winnipeg 1937), 25; and R.C. Bellan, The development of Winnipeg as a metropolitan centre' (unpublished PHD thesis, Columbia University 1958), 313. H. Carl Goldenberg, Municipal finance in Canada: a study prepared for the Royal Commission on Dominion-Provincial Relations (Ottawa 1939), 111-13. The figures for Saskatchewan and Alberta include all cities, not just Edmonton, Calgary, Regina, and Saskatoon. Report of the Royal Commission on the metropolitan development of Calgary and Edmonton (Edmonton 1956), chap, vi, 5. For details on the refunding plan see Nicoll, 'Edmonton,' 89-91. Saskatoon municipal manual, 1975. Saskatoon Board of Trade, Annual report for 1927, ii; D.P. Ravis, Advance land acquisition by local government: the Saskatoon experience (Ottawa 1973), passim. See EJ. Hanson, 'A financial history of Alberta' (unpublished PHD thesis, Clark University 1952); Goldenberg, Municipal finance in Canada, and H.C. Goldenberg, Report of the Royal Commission on the municipal finances and administration of the city of Winnipeg (Winnipeg 1939). 'Winnipeg's finances,' Victoria Daily Colonist, 23 Jan. 1923. Dale, 'Edmonton,' 158-67. See also Royal Commission on Calgary and Edmonton, chap, vi, 25. Dale, 'Edmonton,' 167. City of Edmonton, Special report on assessment and taxation (Edmonton 1921); and Weaver, 'Edmonton.' Royal Commission on Calgary and Edmonton, chap, vi, 41 For a detailed discussion of the adoption of the single tax in prairie cities see Artibise, 'Boosterism and the development of prairie cities.' See also F.C. Wade, 'Experiments with the single tax in wesern Canada' (paper read before the Eighth Annual Conference on Taxation, under the auspices of the National Tax Association, at Denver, Colorado, n Sept. 1914). Calgary municipal manual, 1974, 38; Creighton, Taxation in Saskatoon,' 34; City of Edmonton, Report on assessment and taxation. I was unable to locate pertinent data for Winnipeg and Regina. It is possible, however, that few changes in taxation were made since of the five cities these two were in the best financial shape during this period. Winnipeg did attempt in the post-war period to secure authority from the provincial government to impose an income tax but was unsuccessful, and in 1923 the province itself entered the field. See J. Harvey Perry, Taxes, tariffs and subsidies:

144 Alan F.J. Artibise

37 38 39 40 41

42 43

44

45

46 47

a history of Canadian fiscal development, 2 vols. (Toronto 1955), i: 245; and A.B. Clark, 'Recent developments in western Canada,' National Tax Association, Proceedings of the I3th Annual Conference (New York 1920), 48-69. For a general discussion of this problem see Goldenberg, Municipal finance in Canada, 96—100. Thomas Adams, Rural planning and development (Ottawa 1917), 116-17. Ibid., 117. See Saskatoon Board of Trade, Annual report for 1927, passim; Artibise, Winnipeg: an illustrated history, 116; and Dale, 'Edmonton,' chap. 8. See Nicoll, 'Edmonton,' 97 and passim. Submission of the Saskatchewan urban municipalities association presented to the Royal Commission on Dominion-Provincial Relations (Regina 1937); Cities of Alberta: submission to the Royal Commission on DominionProvincial Relations (Edmonton 1938); City of Winnipeg: submission to the Royal Commission on Dominion-Provincial Relations (Winnipeg 1937). W.R. Taprell to J.B. Cross, City of Calgary papers, Glenbow-Alberta Archives. For a general discussion of tax problems, see WJ. Waines, 'Problems of public finance in the prairie provinces,' Canadian Journal of Economics and Political Science m (1937): 355-69. John Taylor, 'Cities in crisis: the urban experience in the depression of the thirties,' Canada's visual history series (Ottawa: National Film Board and National Museum of Man, forthcoming). Ibid. See also Royal Commission on Calgary and Edmonton, chap, vi, 41; Goldenberg, Report on finances of Winnipeg, 532; and Report to mayor and council, Saskatoon, September 1936, Commission of Inquiry Into Provincial and Municipal Taxation papers, box i, file 2, Provincial Archives of Saskatchewan. Royal Commission on Calgary and Edmonton, passim; Nicoll, 'Edmonton.' John Taylor, 'Urban-industrial society and the decline of local autonomy in twentieth century Canada' (unpublished paper, Department of History, Carleton University

197?)48 C.A. Curtis, 'Municipal finance and provincial-federal relations,' Canadian Journal of Economics and Political Science xvn (1951): 298. See also David M. Nowlan, 'Towards home rule for urban policy,' Journal of Canadian Studies 13 (1978): 70-9. 49 For an excellent discussion of the 'narrowness of vision' on the part of prairie and Maritime leadership see E.R. Forbes, 'Never the twain did meet: prairie-Maritime relations, 1919-1927,' Canadian Historical Review LXI (1978): 18-38. It can be further argued that as early as 1920 it was clear that any significant change in the prairie region's dependent position could come only through conscious political action by the federal government; action that would hardly be forthcoming without strong pressure from the prairies. In other words, prairie development - such as industrialization - required, in effect, a subsidy at the expense of other Canadians. See K.H. Norrie, 'Some comments on prairie economic alienation,' Canadian Public Policy ii (1976): 211-24.

145 Patterns of prairie urban development 50 For a full discussion of power development and its impact on provincial and urban development, see C.O. White, Power for a province: a history of Saskatchewan Power (Regina 1976). 51 See W.T. Jackman, Economic principles of transportation (Toronto 1935). 52 'Bonusing' usually took the form of granting tax exemptions and/or low rates for power and water. See, for example, Calgary Herald, 16 Nov. 1926, and 'Report of the railways, new industries, power and development committee,' 15 Nov. 1926, City of Calgary papers, Glenbow-Alberta Archives. 53 The Union Bank, which had originated in Quebec City, moved its head office to Winnipeg in the pre-war boom period. The bank played an important role in western development and, at the time of its absorption by the Royal Bank, had 327 branches and assets totalling $115 million. A.B. Jamieson, Chartered banking in Canada (Toronto 1953), 68. Other western banks absorbed by central Canadian banks in the inter-war period were the Northern Crown Bank of Winnipeg, absorbed by the Royal Bank of Canada in 1918, and the Weyburn Security Bank, taken over by the Imperial Bank of Commerce in 1931. See ibid., 369. See also Bellan, The development of Winnipeg as a metropolitan centre,' 289, 353; and G.F. Parsons, 'Winnipeg as a financial centre,' in TJ. Kuz, ed., Winnipeg, 1874-1974: progress and prospects (Winnipeg 1974), 189-210. 54 See Alan FJ. Artibise, 'An urban economy: patterns of economic change in Winnipeg, 1873-1971,' Prairie Forum I (1977): 163-88; and Bellan, The development of Winnipeg as a metropolitan centre,' 486-9. 55 Ian MacPherson, 'Agrarianism and the weakness of prairie regional protest' (unpublished paper, Department of History, University of Victoria 1976). 56 See Artibise, Winnipeg: an illustrated history, 152; and T. Flanagan, 'Political geography and the United Farmers of Alberta,' in S.M. Trofimenkoff, ed., The twenties in western Canada (Ottawa 1972), 138-69. 57 The question of urban support for prairie protest movements has not been investigated to date in any depth and the generalizations made here are, at best, tentative. One study, however, does support these conclusions. See J.P. and L.M. Grayson, The social base of interwar political unrest in Alberta,' Canadian Journal of Political Science vn (1974): 289-313. They argue that the United Farmers of Alberta and the Progressives received a small percentage (10.5 and 9.2 per cent respectively) of their total vote from urban centres in 1921; that the Progressives received only 12.8 per cent of their total vote in urban centres in 1925; that while Social Credit received a much higher degree of urban support than did the other two parties, this support was present largely because of the unemployment problems of the 19308; and that smaller urban centres - those tied most closely into the rural social structure - gave all three movements a disproportionate amount of support. 58 See H.C. Pentland, The Winnipeg General Strike: fifty years after,' Canadian Dimension 6 (July 1969): 17; and Paul Phillips, The national policy and the development of the western Canadian labour movement,' in A.W. Rasporich and H.C. Klassen, eds, Prairie perspectives 2 (Toronto 1973), 41-62.

146 Alan FJ. Artibise 59 Pentland, The Winnipeg General Strike: fifty years after,' 17. 60 For three discussions of the role of an urban image see: N.H. Lithwick, Urban Canada: problems and prospects (Ottawa 1970), 52-3; B.A. Brownell, The urban ethos in the south (Baton Rouge 1975); and Kevin Lynch, The image of the city (Cambridge, Mass. 1960). 61 'Analytical report: rural and urban population,' Canada, Census 1956, bulletin 3-2, 32. The average is for forty cities of 30,000 and over. The rate for prairie cities was Winnipeg, 6.2 per cent; Regina, 22.4 per cent; Saskatoon, 23.8 per cent; Calgary, 45.2 per cent; and Edmonton, 70.2 per cent. 62 Lithwick, Urban Canada, 125-43. 63 Paul Phillips, 'The prairie urban system, 1911-1961: specialization and change,' in Artibise, Town and city: aspects of western Canadian urban development. 64 The extent to which provincial controls have advanced in the prairie provinces is discussed in K.G. Crawford, Canadian municipal government (Toronto 1954), 344-55. Besides provincial departments of municipal affairs, agencies created by the provinces supervise and control municipalities included the Local Government Board in Saskatchewan (1913), Board of Public Utility Commissioners in Alberta (1915), and the Municipal and Public Utility Board of Manitoba (1926). 65 One major change that could significantly alter relationships is a rapid advance in transportation technology which would reduce the 'friction of distance.' For a discussion of the importance of this factor see D. Michael Ray, 'Urban growth and the concept of functional region,' in N.H. Litwick and Gilles Paquet, eds, Urban studies: a Canadian perspective (Toronto 1968), 60 and passim. 66 Lithwick, Urban Canada, 134; Ray, 'Urban growth,' 42. 67 Lithwick, Urban Canada, 50-1. 68 Bellan, 'Winnipeg as a metropolitan centre,' 492. 69 See, for example, J. Howard Richards, Saskatchewan geography: physical environment and its relationship with population and the economic base (Saskatoon 1974), 47-53 and passim. One result of this continuing dependency is the prairies' poor showing with regard to manufacturing. Although the prairies contained 16.4 per cent of the country's population in 1977, their share of the country's manufacturing sales was only 9.3 per cent. And while manufacturing accounted for 25 per cent of Ontario's work force, 24 per cent of Quebec's, 16 per cent of British Columbia's, and 13 per cent of the Atlantic region's, it accounted for less than 10 per cent of the Prairies'. Financial Post (Toronto), 17 Dec. 1977. 70 Lithwick, Urban Canada, 73 and passim. 71 See the articles on the prairies in DJ. Bercuson, ed., Canada and the burden of unity (Toronto 1977).

J. MURRAY BECK

An Atlantic region political culture: a chimera

In September 1977 Premier Alexander Campbell of Prince Edward Island told Atlantic Canada that it had not even yet made the decision to develop as a region. 'We are four separate, competitive, jealous and parochial provinces. We fight each other for industrial development. We fight each other for subsidiaries and we bicker about energy and transportation. And too often, the lines of battle are drawn on purely political grounds or selfish local considerations.' Turning more specifically to attitudes, the premier pointed out that the Atlantic provinces 'do not have a regional identity; we do not have regional bonds ... Our only common rallying points are poverty and a regional inferiority complex, self-destructive negative attitudes, and too often a belief that everything from away is better or that Ottawa has all the answers, all the power and all the money.'1 Premier Campbell's basic conclusions were much like those of S.T. Wood of the Toronto Globe who, 66 years earlier, had argued that the 'familiar entity, the Maritime Provinces, is entirely a western [he meant an Ontario] creation and has no existence down by the sea.' A trip to these provinces had convinced him that their separate institutions, set and hardened by time, yielded only slowly to 'the great transformations of life, [and] cannot be fitted to new and artificial decisions.'2 Between 1911 and 1977 all sorts and conditions of men, residents and non-residents, social scientists and non-academics, have accepted the existence of a Maritime (or Atlantic) region as a fact of life. For some academics the recognition of such a region fits nicely into their scheme of things. If, in conducting a national survey, they are forced to limit the size of their sample to stay within their budget, they may find it necessary to group the Atlantic provinces in order to secure statistically meaningful results; or, if they are

148 J. Murray Beck compiling statistics relating to the geographical divisions of Canada, their work may be simplified if they need to provide only four or five rows or columns per table rather than ten. Obviously, however, an Atlantic region ought not to be a contrivance based on convenience or budgetary considerations. Recently I have attempted to show that, unless the criteria of a region are to be taken simply as geographical propinquity, likeness in historical and population background, and similarity of economic problems, the Maritime provinces - and, for the same reasons, the Atlantic provinces - do not constitute a region in any meaningful way.3 Certainly they do not meet the requirements of the political scientist that the adjacent parts of a region should not only differ in character from other entities in the political organism but also be capable of being treated as though they were a political actor; nor those of the sociologist who sees a region 'as part of a national domain ... sufficiently unified to have a consciousness of its customs and ideals and thus [possessing] a sense of identity distinct from the rest of the country'; nor those of the planner who defines a region in terms of a set of problems and then estimates the degree of regionalism by the capacity to respond jointly to them.4 This paper will examine the attitudes towards politics that characterize each of the four Atlantic provinces - their political culture if you will - as a preliminary to understanding the failure to produce a regional political culture and the characteristics of a genuine region. It will start by looking at the internal political attitudes of Nova Scotians and use them as a point of departure for comparison with those of the residents of the other Atlantic provinces. By general agreement, Nova Scotia is characterized by attitudes fostering conservatism and the maintenance of the status quo. Some social scientists couple these attitudes with a reverence for the value of British institutions and a fondness for an ordered hierarchical society, and attribute them to the United Empire Loyalist cultural fragment. My own view is that the influence of the Loyalists has been exaggerated, in Nova Scotia at least, and that once they established themselves their attitudes towards politics did not differ all that much from those of the pre-Loyalists. I am equally skeptical about viewing the struggle for responsible government in Nova Scotia as rooted in the rivalry between the non-Loyalist immigrants' 'desire for greater social equality and the hierarchical aspect inherent in the Loyalist tradition.'5 For the purpose of this essay, however, it is sufficient to accept Professor Rawlyk's view that the political culture probably congealed in the 18408 or

149 An Atlantic region political culture 18508, and that the prevailing attitudes tended to persist because of a largely stagnant population having little in-migration to influence it.6 In Nova Scotia, as in the other Atlantic provinces, this resistance to change has militated strongly against the erosion of the tradition that anything goes in politics. Thus the Civil Service Act of 1935 was simply a front under which the government of the day continued to make appointments on the basis of patronage while boasting of its purity, and the merit system for permanent civil servants only became firmly established after World War n. To this day, government purchases and the use of trucks in highway construction remain subject to the old practices. As in the other provinces east of the Ottawa River, the bribery of voters, which at one time allegedly dragged 'many of our leading citizens down to the level of gangsters,' continues, although generally on a reduced scale.7 Though it is probably not very harmful to the body politic for 'little old ladies' who always vote the same way to expect chocolates or perfume from their favourite poll worker, the unabashed resort to the buying of votes in important contests has thrown the entire electoral process into disrepute. The author's personal knowledge leads him to conclude that the value of a vote rose to a level unparalleled in the province's history in a crucial by-election in Guysborough in 1973. The conservatism inherent in the political institutions also manifests itself in the phenomenon that the province's first political parties, which appeared in a nascent state as early as 1836, are still the only ones capable of winning a general election. A third party had its greatest success in the provincial election of 1920 when, through a combination of distinctly unusual circumstances, the Progressives - a combination of the United Farmers of Nova Scotia and the Independent Labour party - elected eleven members to the Conservatives' three. Normally, however, Viscount Bryce's description of American political parties might well be applied to the Liberals and Conservatives of Nova Scotia: '[they] now continue to exist, because they have existed. The mill has been constructed and its machinery goes on turning, even when there is no grist to grind.'8 Until at least World War n whole families of Nova Scotians maintained 'with a sort of proud tradition an unbroken history as partisans for generations ... Political issues may have changed, leaders may have changed and the party may have gone utterly wrong in the interval, it matters not. The old party traditions have gone on and its adherents have remained serenely blind.'9 Because the circumstances surrounding confederation established the Liberals as the majority party, the

150 J. Murray Beck strong adherence to party ties enabled them to establish a stranglehold over the province which has only recently been weakened. One rather remarkable outcome is that, until the defeat of Gerald Regan in 1978, no party leader since confederation who had once won an election subsequently lost one. None the less. Nova Scotians usually had the feeling of participating in genuinely competitive politics since the Conservatives normally polled about 40 per cent of the popular vote even though the vagaries of the electoral system gave them few seats. Since 1945 the traditional adherence to party has weakened somewhat and the winds of political change have blown more freely, partly because of greater urbanization, larger movements of people within the province, and increased in-migration. The altered circumstances permitted Robert Stanfield to lead the Conservatives to their first victory since confederation under non-crisis conditions in 1956, and later to establish a personal dominance over the province. Any shift in the traditional vote seems to have gone mainly to the Conservatives. The New Democratic party (NDP) continues to be largely hived in the industrial part of Cape Breton County where special factors in the decades around the turn of the century - industrialization, a substantial influx of population, and politically oriented trade-union leadership - made it unique in Nova Scotia and have permitted the Co-operative Commonwealth Federation (CCF) and the NDP to have the only electoral successes they have ever enjoyed in the Maritime provinces. In September 1977, in a by-election in the industrial part of Pictou County, the NDP almost beat out the Liberals for second place, and its leader asserted that his party had become competitive on the mainland. Actually circumstances not likely to be repeated had prompted a large defection of Liberals both to the Conservatives and the NDP, and when the latter party won a fourth seat in the general election of 1978, it was an addition to the three it already held in Cape Breton County. The NDP still labours under the handicap of having an explicit philosophy - and democratic socialist at that - in a province whose politics is basically pragmatic. Both old-line parties emphasize that paternal legislation is not the remedy for economic and political ills and that a government ought simply to create conditions under which the citizenry can work out its own destiny. This is the closest that either comes to having a philosophy, but 'it is at least flexible enough to permit a government to meet the needs and desires of a small community which is not characterized by a sharp conflict of interests.'10

151 An Atlantic region political culture Recently, in my study for the Nova Scotia Royal Commission on Education, Public Services, and Provincial-Municipal Relations, I suggested that 'there now appears to be a somewhat greater resilience in the political culture than might be expected' and that 'rational proposals, presented in a form that is intelligible to the ordinary Nova Scotian - far-reaching though they may be - have a much greater chance of acceptance today than at any previous period in provincial history.'11 But the commission's report started out by laying rough hands on the municipal units, many of them going far back into the last century, and it has apparently been discarded as a political albatross. Robert Stanfield, who read the Nova Scotian psyche as well as anyone, followed two maxims in making changes: first, to bring them about piecemeal so that each step was digested in turn and, secondly, to ensure that new or increased taxation was directly connected in the public mind to a new service of which it approved. The first permitted massive changes in temperance legislation; the second allowed hospital insurance to be adopted with scarcely a flurry on the political scene.12 New Brunswick, which is somewhat less industrialized than Nova Scotia, exhibits even more the characteristics of a non-urbanized, rural society in which conservatism and traditionalism are dominant.13 The abolition of patronage has not proceeded as far as in Nova Scotia, and politicians conduct themselves on the principle that elections are not won by prayers. More than in most jurisdictions, but much as in Nova Scotia, the defeat of a government is usually a vote against the party in office. Thus, in the last change of government in October 1970, which brought Richard Hatfield and the Conservatives to power, New Brunswickers were voting for neither a charismatic leader nor an attractive program. They were just using their undeniable prerogative to vote not for but against something.14 For these reasons, Professor PJ. Fitzpatrick of the University of New Brunswick has described the province's politics as 'parochial, stagnant, and anachronistic.'15 The nature and working of the party system account for much of this dismal conclusion. Though the Liberals and Conservatives do not have distinct, coherent philosophies and both are treated with cynicism between elections, the conservatism of New Brunswickers works against their recognizing a practical alternative. As in Nova Scotia, the greatest success of a third party was that of the Progressives in 1920 when they elected a number of assemblymen shown in various sources as six, eight, or even more. The CCF did best in 1944 when

152 J. Murray Beck its forty-one candidates secured 12 per cent of the vote but won no seats; by 1952 its vote was down to 1.2 per cent and it abandoned the electoral struggle. The NDP made its first try in 1967 with a few candidates who got about a thousand votes, but its progress has been slow and in 1974 its thirtytwo candidates polled only 3 per cent of the vote, a percentage which its thirty-six candidates doubled in 1978. Influenced by the politics of neighbouring Quebec, Social Credit has sometimes contested a few seats, but even in its most concerted effort in 1956 only 2 per cent of the voters supported its eighteen candidates. In 1974 the Parti Acadien caused a flurry of interest, but in the end all its candidates but one fared badly; four years later its twenty-two candidates polled less than 4 per cent of the vote. The old-line parties, in Professor Fitzpatrick's words, 'dominate the political environment with fear of... third parties, sustained by gerrymandering, patronage, and constituencies with hereditary political loyalties kept intact by ancient ethnic and religious antagonisms.'16 While hereditary voting has decreased somewhat, though probably not to the same extent as in Nova Scotia, ethnic voting has increased. In a real sense there are two New Brunswicks based on ethnic lines and almost meriting the description 'two solitudes.' To the south of a line drawn from Grand Falls in the northwest to Sackville in the southeast the generally more affluent and better educated Anglo-Saxons predominate, while to the north francophones constitute a strong majority. Although once passive politically, the Acadians have recently become much more assertive. Before 1900 they tended to vote Conservative, but in this century the majority have followed the Quebecois into the Liberal camp. In contrast, English-speaking voters, who had previously preferred the Liberals, moved to the Conservatives, although less markedly so. These developments, effected gradually, almost reached the ultimate in the 19608. The Liberal Louis Robichaud retained office in 1967 because he lost only Campbellton north of the line, even though he could win only four seats to the south. When he lost to Richard Hatfield in 1970, the polarization was only slightly lessened, for the Conservatives gained only Sunbury to the south, and only one seat in Edmundston and three seats in Moncton to the north; moreover, of their thirty-two members only three were francophones. Generally, ethnic voting favours the Liberals since the French adhere more closely to normal voting patterns than do the anglophones and this fact helps to explain why until 1978 the Conservatives had never won more than

153 An Atlantic region political culture two general elections in a row. The recent elimination of multi-member ridings and the adoption of fifty-eight single-member constituencies have served to reduce somewhat the ethnic polarization; in addition to winning a seat in Madawaska in 1974, the Conservatives also took seats in Gloucester and Kent for the first time in a general election since 1911.17 The counterbalancing tendency is to improve the Liberals' chances of winning nonFrench seats. In 1978 they improved their position marginally - by one member - in these seats, but the Conservatives had their francophone members reduced from five to four. Seemingly many New Brunswickers are obliged to follow ethnic rather than political imperatives in their voting, but the phenomenon is not as simple as it once was now that more and more francophone voters realize, and the politicians know they realize, that they can use their king-making power to redress their inferior position in the New Brunswick scheme of things.18 In Prince Edward Island the common features of the Atlantic political culture or cultures tend to be exaggerated because of the smallness of the community. An all-pervasive conservatism permitted a unique, but altogether outdated, franchise and representation system to survive until 1963, and its vestiges still remain. The act that in 1893 abolished the Legislative Council let each of the province's fifteen districts elect a councillor on a property qualification and an assemblyman on an unrestricted franchise, both to sit in the same assembly. Because non-residents could vote in any district in which they held the requisite property, all sorts of anomalies and irregularities developed and some islanders spent election day moving from district to district, seeking to cast votes. Even when the assembly eliminated the property franchise in 1963, it let each district elect an assemblyman and a councillor, and hence permitted retention of the convention that specific assembly or council seats were the preserve of one religious group. As Marlene Clark has suggested, 'the only way to end this convention would be to terminate the practice of pairing candidates on separate ballots.'19 No less marked is the island's traditionalism in its hereditary political loyalties. According to Profrssor Frank MacKinnon, to some islanders 'being a Liberal or a Conservative [attained] almost religious significance,' and anyone outside the fold became 'a political heathen.'20 Most observers agree, too, that the erosion of traditional voting on the island has not proceeded as far as in the neighbouring provinces. Its voters have always been satisfied with their pragmatic old-line parties and have shown even less

154 J- Murray Beck inclination to support third parties than those of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. Four Progressives could garner only a few votes in a largely agricultural province in 1923. The CCF did best in 1947 when its seventeen candidates polled 5 per cent of the vote. Neither it nor the NDP ran candidates in the five elections between 1955 and 1970, and in 1974 the NDP'S twenty candidates were supported by only 6 per cent of the voters. Not surprisingly, the politics of a small, poor, and dependent province is in some respects a 'politics of acquisition.'21 Thus island voters make sure, sometimes by anticipation, that their provincial government is of the same complexion as the federal, the best guarantee, they think, of their remaining the fortunate beneficiary of Ottawa. Similarly party adherents expect that, within the limits of practicality, a provincial government of their own party will allocate limited resources to its own and their advantage. Much as in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, voters call upon party workers to 'grease their palms' or 'quench their thirst.' Exceeding even the excesses of the Guysborough by-election of 1973 were those of a deferred election in First King's in 1966 which was to determine the party that would govern the province. For anyone who would take it, $100 became the price of a vote; others, who thought it bribery to take money, accepted lawn-mowers and, in one case, a new bathroom. One wag suggested that if First King's did not sink under the weight of road machinery, it would surely be flooded by liquor on election day; another exhibited a sign reading: 'Please don't pave, this is my only pasture.'22 Highly revealing of Prince Edward Islanders' attitudes towards political action has been the experience with the P.E.I. Development Plan. Despite extensive public relations activities it proved highly difficult to 'plug' islanders into the policy process. Liberal adherents among the grass roots grudgingly accepted the plan, but perceived it only in vague, general terms as having something to do with economic and social improvement; Conservative supporters tended to regard it as another threat to the island way of life. Apparently few in either party had a genuine desire to 'participate in meaningful political activity of any kind, let alone in an activity as esoteric, vague and uncertain as development planning.'23 Because of the paucity of survey data and the failure, in some cases, to provide a breakdown by province, the general attitude of Maritimers towards the political system may best be summarized collectively. Several studies have demonstrated that adults and adolescents in all three provinces are less

155 An Atlantic region political culture convinced than other Canadians that their governments can be trusted, or that the voters can influence them, to do the right thing.24 Coupled with these harsh attitudes towards the political system is an equally unfavourable view of politicians. One study showed that 45 per cent of New Brunswickers believed that 'quite a few' in government were crooked and that Nova Scotians were not far behind in professing the same opinion.25 But in equating the mentality of Maritimers who are 'patient and willing to wait for spoils ... from political jobbery and favouritism' with that of wreckers who profit from ship disasters by seizing their cargoes. Professor Bellamy perhaps goes too far.26 Also to be treated with caution are the limited data which suggest that the political knowledgeability of Nova Scotians and New Brunswickers is exceeded only by that of Newfoundlanders. The surveys, it should be emphasized, made no attempt to measure sophistication in political knowledge, but concerned themselves mainly with the identification of specific politicians in which, for at least two reasons, residents of the Atlantic provinces might be expected to do well. Not only is the profile of politicians high in small, largely rural communities, but in political systems where patronage is extensive, 'the politician probably becomes better known than in a society where universalistic, bureaucratically administered programs are of primary significance in the operations of the state.'27 Quite congruent with their ability to identify politicians although completely out of keeping with their high level of cynicism and their low level of trust and efficacy, Maritimers have a greater involvement than Canadians as a whole, as expressed for instance in voter turnout. Perhaps, as Professor Bellamy suggests, electoral and voting participation is simply 'a ritual or social activity' which Maritimers carry on with little reference to the affairs of state, or, put in another way, 'a kind of game that has been continued from generation to generation, not for any great good that is expected from it, but for personal amusement and entertainment.'28 Newfoundland's past makes it politically distinctive in more than a few respects. Except for a relatively small number of Scottish merchants who settled in St John's, the bulk of Newfoundland's population came in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries from Ireland and the English West Country. While out-migration was pronounced in later years, Newfoundland was to receive no other large influx of settlers, and by 1857 90 per cent of the population was native born.29 To a large extent the cultural background of the Irish and English shaped their responses to the new environment and to

156 J. Murray Beck each other: 'for the Irish brought with them a national heritage of poverty, Roman Catholicism, and hatred of their English oppressors; while the English brought with them from the west country a heritage of puritanical Protestantism, social deference, and semi-feudal economic relationships.'30 In these differences lay the seeds of social conflict in the new environment. The Irish (and hence Catholics) constituted a great majority in St John's and the east and the Protestants elsewhere, but the populations of the outports tended to belong exclusively, or almost so, to one religious faith. This phenomenon tended to facilitate the accommodation of sectarian differences, worked out - as became the practice in Newfoundland politics - by elite consensus. One outcome was a system of education that was, and continues to be, church controlled, in which Roman Catholic, Anglican, United Church, and Salvation Army schools, supported by per capita government grants, are the primary units. Even today a Catholic teacher who marries an Anglican risks dismissal. As late as 1955 the electoral map was drawn so as to ensure that Catholics, Anglicans, and non-Conformists were likely to elect the same number of assemblymen. 'In Newfoundland affairs, most issues still carry some degree of religious overtone, and secularism comes slowly.'31 Yet, on the whole, class interests have overshadowed sectarian interests. Until recently dwellers in the outports existed in a feudalistic type of relationship in which they sold their fish to merchants, mostly based in St John's, receiving credit in return but little in the way of money. Because it symbolized the harsh realities of the 'truck' system, Water Street, the centre of the merchants' operations in St John's, was regarded with utter distaste.32 Indeed, according to Professor Noel, much of Newfoundland's history 'may be viewed as a struggle between those who sought to preserve the existing economic system by maintaining and exploiting existing social cleavages and those who sought to bring about social and economic changes by persuading the majority of the people of the paramountcy of their common class interests.'33 Momentous changes have occurred in outport living during the past three decades. Federal social service payments introduced a steady influx of cash, large trawlers replaced the smaller fishing boats, and governments undertook programs to eliminate or consolidate the smaller outports and to introduce a greater measure of industrialization, hoping, in Joseph Smallwood's words, to drag Newfoundland 'kicking and screaming into the twentieth century.'34 As a result, the forces of urbanism and industrialism have been eroding the

157 An Atlantic region political culture traditional, subsistence, outport economy, and the political culture has been moving towards that of those parts of Canada with a similar economic structure. Accordingly,, Professors Neary and Noel have pictured Newfoundlanders as being 'in a half-way house between two economies and two styles - the traditional and the modern.'35 Some observers like Harold Horwood and Farley Mowat have lamented the abandonment of the serenity and the country values of the outports for 'the fantasies of the factories and the offices of Upper Canada.'36 But when they described the typical outport as 'a haven of contentment in a world of confusion, strivings, nervous prostrations and jungle warfare,' Fred Rowe had a simple reply: 'balderdash.'37 Largely because of social and economic factors, Newfoundlanders were not in a position until recently to develop 'a very deep understanding of or attachment to democratic values.'38 The province has had its populist, reformist politicians - Edward Morris, William Coaker, and Joseph Smallwood - but forces of conservatism inherent in the economic and demographic characteristics of the society have tended to undermine the basis of their popular support.39 The quiet acceptance of commission, non-elective government between 1934 and 1946 illustrated the fact that 'there was much in their history that had conditioned Newfoundlanders, especially those who lived in the tradition-bound outports, to expect authority to flow from above.'40 The Smallwood domination of the province is equally illustrative; indeed, it has been suggested that 'his standing with the electorate was such that one might well look to the third world rather than the other Canadian provinces for a suitable standard of comparison.'41 Contributing to his success were his public-speaking techniques which, although they may have appeared vulgar and simple-minded to some sophisticated residents of St John's, were extraordinarily effective in the outports, partly because they were highly entertaining, and partly because they resorted to the re-echoing of a few simple facts and ideas. No less significant was his role as distributor of the federal largesse which in a real sense transformed Newfoundland life even as it consolidated his hold on office. Under him federal politics became an adjunct of provincial politics, and he the chief federal as well as provincial leader. When excorporation lawyer Louis St Laurent went to Newfoundland during the election of 1949, Smallwood took him to Spaniard's Bay, Brigus, Bay Roberts, and a dozen other places, and fed him on chocolate bars until 3:00 P.M. when they finally lunched on sandwiches beside the road.42 As in the past, New-

158 J. Murray Beck foundland was being governed through a form of elite consensus, although this time the agent was Smallwood in conjunction with Liberal leaders at Ottawa. Party organization and party meetings, except at election time, had no place in the Smallwood scheme of things; he did not need them and they did not conform to his approach to politics. Then, in the federal election of 1968, the Liberal tide went out as the outport voters deserted that party in droves. For the first time Liberal federal candidates sought to disregard the Smallwood record, but without success. Actually Joey had defeated himself. His efforts to have the outport residents accept closer integration with the mainland had wrought substantial social and psychological changes in them. Because of their greater political sophistication, they were at long last questioning their politicians' actions, and when Smallwood's program of economic development and his personal domination became discredited, the cry that it was time for a change could not be resisted.43 lit difficult times his failure to build up a strong party organization and his almost total reliance on 'a loose network of people held together by personal relationships, old loyalties, and ... multifarious rewards' hurt him badly and his personal domination of the province came to an end in 1971.44 Since his downfall the Liberals have sought to develop the normal kind of provincial and constituency organization. But despite the increasing modernization of its institutions, Newfoundland is simply moving from a pre-industrial society to one more closely resembling those of the Maritime provinces, and like theirs, its political culture is basically conservative. The Liberal party quickly established itself after 1949, while the Conservatives, as anti-confederates, were initially hived in the Avalon peninsula which had stoutly resisted union with Canada. Once they developed support elsewhere, however, the political battles became joined between them and the Liberals, and other parties came to be regarded as intruders. The absence of radicalism in Newfoundland politics may seem all the more surprising since its per capita income is the lowest in Canada and its unemployment rate invariably the highest. But, as Professor McCorquodale points out, 'in the context of the Newfoundland political culture there is no place for a mass party with a progressive philosophy; to many outport voters, at least until recent years, it was almost presumptuous to question what the "big fellows" were doing.'45 Yet although Newfoundlanders are reluctant to try a new brand of politician, survey material indicates that 50 per cent of them think their government is extremely wasteful

159 An Atlantic region political culture and 42 per cent regard politicians as basically crooked.46 Perhaps even more than in the Maritimes, electoral corruption and patronage still abound, although recently the civil service commission has made considerable headway in introducing the merit principle in permanent appointments. In allocating government resources, however, there is still 'a tendency to spend in accordance with the self-interested needs of the politically successful.'47 Other aspects of Newfoundland's political culture distinguish it from the remaining provinces. The most British of all Canadians, Newfoundlanders have great respect for British institutions and symbols, and at the time of the flag debate Premier Smallwood declared that no matter what the Canadian parliament did the Union Jack would remain the provincial flag. Before 1949 a well-developed Newfoundland nationalism existed, based partly on folkheroes and epic events in its history, but the increasing integration of the province into the Canadian community has apparently weakened the place of this form of nationalism in the political culture and relegated it largely to the area of traditional ballads and folklore. Yet the Quebec example and Ottawa's failure to cope with the province's economic distress may have rekindled it in 1977. Perhaps more than that of any other province, Newfoundland's political culture is also characterized by 'the persistence of attitudes supporting factionalism,' which Professor Bellamy attributes partly to the Irish fragment in the political culture and partly to the struggle to obtain the 'limited good' in a society where resources are scarce.48 Most unique of all is the preservation over many years of self-images which are, in fact, myths. One relating to 'rural fundamentalism' is illustrated by Joseph Smallwood's references to 'the great yeomanry, the great peasantry, the great farming class, the great countryside class, the great outport class ... socially and politically the soundest people of any country.'49 A second pictures Newfoundland as a potential source of vast wealth, indeed, another El Dorado, and was a key to the electoral success of Edward Morris, Richard Squires, and Joseph Smallwood. 'For each, the means of unlocking the land's wealth has been to give it to outside capitalists, often along with generous guarantees and government absorption of risks,' but always with limited success at best.50 Some political scientists have considered the patterns of values, beliefs, and attitudes towards government and politics in Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Prince Edward Island as sufficiently alike to constitute a Maritime province political culture, but have chosen to treat Newfoundland's political

160 J. Murray Beck culture as something quite distinctive. It is at least arguable, however, that the political values, beliefs, and attitudes of the four provinces are similar enough to posit a regional political culture; and it may be most arguable of all that there exist four provincial political cultures marked by many common values, beliefs, and attitudes. None would deny that Newfoundland, in its exodus from pre-industrial society, has moved steadily in the past three decades towards the type of society characteristic of the Maritime provinces. Clearly, in their pro-British attitudes, their conservatism and rejection of radical politics, their toleration - if not approval - of patronage and electoral corruption, their cynical attitudes towards politicians and the political process, their ability to identify politicians and their high turnout at elections, and their apparent lack of desire to participate meaningfully in political life above the municipal level, Newfoundlanders bear a striking resemblance to Maritimers. In their general satisfaction with out-and-out pragmatic parties, they are also like Maritimers and, according to the general thrust of this article, the phenomenon in all four provinces is natural in conservative political cultures that have long congealed. Recently, Douglas McCready and Conrad Winn have shown that, much as the departments in the south of France, the economically disadvantaged peripheral areas of Canada, unlike the affluent peripheral areas, find it difficult to spawn parties of the left, but even they admit that, at best, this provides only a partial explanation of the lack of success of third parties in Atlantic Canada.51 In their attitudes towards the federal authority Maritimers and Newfoundlanders differ only in degree. While a cynic might say that both Maritimers and Newfoundlanders look upon Ottawa as an inexhaustible milch cow upon which to make unrelenting demands, they would reply with one voice that it is of the very essence of federalism that a federal government should take action to reduce disparities in provincial per capita incomes and to ensure that all the provincial entities may provide much the same level of social, educational, and developmental services. Without minimizing the emotional tie of patriotism, the major glue binding the Atlantic provinces to the Canadian federation is that of utility, although there is something of a difference between the old and the new. In the Maritimes, which have long recognized that they have hitched themselves permanently to the Canadian federation, alienation no longer proceeds to the point of a serious threat of separation. But this glue has not hardened nearly as much in Newfoundland, even though it is the greatest financial beneficiary of

161 An Atlantic region political culture the federation, and during the economic difficulties of 1977 its premier talked of drawing up a comprehensive balance sheet to discover if the losses of confederation had not exceeded its gains. Yet, simply because residents of the Atlantic provinces share common values, beliefs, and attitudes, it by no means follows that there is a common Atlantic or even Maritime province consciousness, or that Atlantic province residents see themselves as having a sense of identity distinct from that of the rest of the country. As far back as 1911, S.T. Wood wrote: 'One meets plenty of Nova Scotians, New Brunswickers and Islanders, and may meet some who make no claim beyond Antigonish or the Annapolis Valley. But no one ever claims to be a man of the Maritime Provinces.'52 Later studies offer no clear-cut evidence that these attitudes have changed markedly. It is true that my students, in their work on the survey data of the 1974 general election, found that 47.2 per cent of the Maritime respondents believed they lived in a region and 30.4 per cent thought they did not. But because Maritimers are being constantly subjected to the term 'Maritime region' by both the oral and printed media, it is quite impossible to say whether the former percentage is significantly high or low. Its meaningfulness is dubious in any event since the questionnaire made no attempt to define the term 'region' for the respondents. Earlier Professor Mildred Schwartz had used the data of the 1965 national election survey to study the perceptions of residents of the Atlantic provinces, including their views of the four provinces' economic conditions, general attractiveness, and ability to exercise power as compared with other provinces. While she found they 'displayed an in-group consciousness that inflated their region's position on all dimensions,' she admitted that from her study as a whole she could not 'directly ascertain the extent of Canadian regional identification and regional consciousness,' or do 'more than infer its existence from the kinds of response patterns dominant in each region.' In her words, she had demonstrated mainly that there was 'a potential for the emergence of regional consciousness.'53 More recently, Professor Joseph Jabbra and Ronald Landes of St Mary's University have shown that Nova Scotia adolescents perceive greater similarities among Maritimers than between Nova Scotians and non-Maritimers in such matters as the kind of jobs they hold, amount of money they have, and type of government under which they live. But in the end they could say only that their findings did not conflict with the assumption 'that a given physical region tends to produce a

162 J. Murray Beck separate regional consciousness which ties together people living within that region.'54 Certainly their conclusions contribute no more than marginally towards the validation of the hypothesis itself. Although Maritimers may have some sort of empathy for one another simply because they share the same economic misfortunes, little hard evidence has been adduced to demonstrate the kind of consciousness that the sociologist posits for the existence of a region, or the existence of any meaningful sense of identity. The story of interprovincial activity is equally negative in suggesting a regional consciousness. Painting a bleak picture of Maritime prospects, the Deutsch commission in The report on Maritime union (1970) found that the most serious threats facing the three provinces were continued slow economic growth and a continued inferior level of participation in the economic and political life of Canada. Putting it bluntly, the Report told Maritimers they were confronted with starkly contrasting alternatives: either to maintain 'local attachments, local diversities, local autonomies, small scale relationships, and the existing structure and pace of life,' or to achieve 'a more rapid rate of economic development in order to raise average living standards and to provide more adequate employment and career opportunities.' If they decided to give a higher priority to the second alternative, they had no choice but to 'establish immediately a method of co-operation which would envisage the attainment of full political union as a definite goal.'55 At first sight Professor Deutsch and his associates appear to have had good grounds for their basic recommendation since an opinion poll they had commissioned showed that 64 per cent of Maritimers favoured political union. But they were much more optimistic than they ought to have been for a variety of reasons. The survey provided no inkling of the intensity of the respondents' feelings towards political union. Indeed, posed as the question was, it might have been seen as eliciting support for virtue against evil and, most significant of all, it asked for the respondents' opinions almost in a vacuum.56 Would, for example, the respondents have given the same reply if they had realized that the capital of the new province might not even be within their original province? Perhaps it was inevitable that the Deutsch commission should go astray since its leading members were an outsider who did not fully appreciate grass-roots attitudes in the Maritimes and a technocrat with an exaggerated view of the goodness of his finely laid plans. In any case Premier Gerald Regan of Nova Scotia, an excellent interpreter of public attitudes, could say

163 An Atlantic region political culture after four years that Maritime union was 'as dead as a door nail... Integration, yes ... unification, no.'57 Perhaps Maritimers display their co-operative attitudes to better advantages in less grandiose matters. A specialist in this area. Professor Richard H. Leach of Duke University, has shown that over time 'a spate of Maritime or Atlantic regional bodies and programs were developed, until by 1969, virtually every field of provincial activity was involved in one or more Maritime interprovincial relationships.'58 In confirmation, the Institute of Public Affairs of Dalhousie University identified 181 active organizations in which senior governmental officials and private citizens throughout the Maritimes influence and are influenced by co-operative activity, and Guy Henson, its director at that time, suggested that this 'whole complex of voluntary provincial activity ... constitutes an identifiable, distinctive, and apparently unique regional life of the Maritime or Atlantic Provinces.'59 None the less, Professor Leach himself warns that evidence of this kind reveals little of the attitudes prevailing at the grass-roots level; indeed, he believes that the concept of Maritime interprovincial co-operation is grasped only by governmental administrators, not by the people or their assemblymen. In his view neither the provincial parties nor pressure groups have 'yet fully accommodated themselves to a co-operative pattern and still frequently work at cross-purposes with similar units across provincial boundary lines.' He even plays down the kind of co-operation that occurs among the top civil servants because it often takes place through annual conferences held at resort centres where the social side predominates, and because the agenda of the conferences are so full they tend to become 'more reporting sessions than occasions for the discussion and evolution of co-operative relationships.' Most telling of all is his conclusion that these activities have been primarily incremental in their practical effects, 'concerned ... with small adjustments and minor accommodations and seldom with the potential of a really bold and original intergovernmental action.'60 If further evidence were needed of the lack of a will to co-operate meaningfully, it is provided by the Council of Maritime Premiers, intended by the Deutsch commission to play a major role in planning for political union, but relegated instead to promoting the integration of services. Since its establishment in 1971, it has produced a complicated maze of committees, agreements, codes, policies, and 'even that ultimate 20th century mark of

164 J. Murray Beck institutionalization - its own logo!'61 Its misfortune, as I have written elsewhere, is that it has been unable to develop a backbone.62 Undoubtedly the council has had some successes, but they have been qualified and limited as the provincial premiers themselves admitted as early as 1972 -because integration is difficult in fields where there are 'important vested interests in existing machinery and in established ways of doing things'; consequently success has occurred only in matters that have 'not seriously challenged the political process in each province.'63 Thus, even though the common centre for police training associated with Holland College in Charlottetown has been handicapped because of the failure of the Halifax police force - the largest in the area - to co-operate, the Nova Scotia government has apparently put no pressure on the Halifax civic authorities to alter their stance. Premier Regan was unable to say nay to the influential agricultural interests in his province which opposed the establishment of a common veterinary college in Prince Edward Island and wanted it in Nova Scotia, even though the Maritimes might lose it as a result. Most divisive of all was Nova Scotia's intervention in October 1977 in a hearing of the National Energy Board on an application to build a liquefied natural gas terminal using Algerian gas at Lorneville near Saint John. When Nova Scotia argued that the Strait of Canso area was a more suitable location for the plant, Premier Hatfield lamented that 'this kind of intervention revives the policy of cut throat competition when co-operation among provinces ... is essential.'64 If the Maritimes have only a limited will to co-operate, the inclusion of Newfoundland lowers it further. From the beginning that province turned thumbs down on any suggestions that the Council of Maritime Premiers should be a council of Atlantic provinces. Although the four governments may unite to press Ottawa to deal more effectively with financial and economic disparity, it is not uncommon for them to speak with discordant voices. Thus Newfoundland, believing it had a better legal case, refused to make common ground with the Maritimes on offshore mineral rights, while New Brunswick remained aloof from Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island on energy questions because their problems were substantially different. Outsiders who are surprised at the Atlantic provinces' unwillingness to accept major changes to improve their position in the Canadian federation fail to appreciate that for over two centuries the people of these provinces have developed such an attachment to their own political entity, its capital, and its institutions that they look with suspicion, even hostility, upon

165 An Atlantic region political culture attempts to tamper with them. Though it took no little time for the provincial capitals to establish their hegemony over the scattered out-settlements, once it was established the provinces' residents turned to their provincial governments as the source of benefits, in the beginning for expenditures on roads and bridges, later for a growing multitude of other services. More and more they rated their premier by his competence in safeguarding their interests. Hence arises the difficulty of his making concessions to his fellow premiers even if it is simply a question of arranging 'trade-offs,' and the more political he is the less he is likely to engage in genuine co-operation. The outcome is inevitable: to New Brunswickers and their premier, for example, Halifax, Charlottetown, and St John's are almost as much foreign capitals as are London and Washington. The traditionalism and conservatism of the four provinces reinforce their reluctance to establish strong attachments broader than the provincial; so do the rural values which are highly significant throughout the area. Because the Atlantic provinces generally have not undergone modernization, there is little of the cultural homogeneity which is marked by the appearance of those patterns of belief and behaviour common to all industrial societies; still prevalent in all four provinces is the fragmented particularism that is characteristic of non-industrialized societies.65 Because distinct provincial identities and loyalities constitute so important a feature of the political culture, I think it is highly misleading to talk and think in terms of a Maritime or Atlantic provincial culture. It is much more meaningful to recognize the existence of four provincial political cultures having many values, attitudes, and beliefs in common.66 NOTES 1 Chronicle-Herald (Halifax), 28 Sept. 1977. 2 Globe (Toronto), 5 Jan. 1911. 3 J. Murray Beck, 'The Maritimes: a region or three provinces?' Royal Society of Canada, Transactions xv, ser. 4 (1977): 301-13. 4 For the definitions of the political scientist, sociologist, and planner, see Mildred A. Schwartz, Politics and territory: the sociology of regional persistence in Canada (Montreal and London 1974), 4-5; Rupert B. Vance, 'Region,' in International encyclopedia of the social sciences xm (1968): 377-8; Vincent Ostrom, The political dimension of regional analysis,' as cited in Guy Henson, 'Introduction: interprovincial cooperation in perspective,' A report to the Maritime union study (Fredericton 1970), x-xi.

166 J. Murray Beck 5 For these views see David J. Bellamy, 'Background and political cultures: the Atlantic provinces,' in David J. Bellamy et a/., eds, The provincial political systems: comparative essays (Toronto 1976), 12. 6 G.A. Rawlyk, 'The farmer-labour movement and the failure of socialism in Nova Scotia,' in Laurier La Pierre et a/., Essays on the left (Toronto 1971), 40. 7 See speech of R.H. Murray as reported in Chronicle (Halifax), 27 Sept. 1933. 8 James Bryce, The American commonwealth (2nd ed., London 1891), n: 23. 9 From an article by Attorney General J.W. Longley in The Week xi (5 Jan. 1894); 126-7. 10 J. Murray Beck, The government of Nova Scotia (Toronto 1957), 157. 11 J. Murray Beck, The evolution of municipal government in Nova Scotia, 1749-1973 (Halifax 1973), 6, 59. 12 Recently historians like David Frank and Nolan Reilly have discovered the appearance early in the century of some small radical or socialist groups in Nova Scotia but, because of these groups' insubstantial and, in my view, inconsequential character, the findings do nothing to challenge this paper's view of the province's political culture. 13 Bellamy, 'Background and political cultures,' n. 14 J. Murray Beck, 'Elections in the Maritimes: the votes against have it,' Canadian Commentator xiv (Dec. 1970): 9. 15 PJ. Fitzpatrick, 'New Brunswick: the politics of pragmatism,' in Martin Robin, ed., Canadian provincial politics: the party systems of the ten provinces (Scarborough 1972), 116. 16 Ibid. 17 J. Murray Beck, 'Elections,' in Bellamy et a/., eds, Provincial political systems, 179-80. 18 Fitzpatrick, 'New Brunswick: politics of pragmatism,' 117. In my view, the social and religious imperatives are subsidiary to the ethnic. 19 Marlene Russell Clark, 'The franchise in Prince Edward Island and its relation to island politics and other political institutions' (unpublished MA thesis, Dalhousie University 1968), 135. 20 Frank MacKinnon, 'Prince Edward Island: big engine, little body,' in Robin, ed., Canadian provincial politics, 245. 21 Ibid., 247. 22 Clark, 'Franchise in Prince Edward Island,' 130, 132. 23 Wayne MacKinnon, The politics of planning: a case study of the Prince Edward Island plan' (unpublished MA thesis, Dalhousie University 1972), 204. 24 See, for example, Richard Simeon and David J. Elkins, 'Regional political cultures in Canada,' Canadian Journal of Political Science vn (1974): 404-8; Joseph Jabbra and Ronald G. Landes, 'A Maritime political culture? A study of the political orientations of adolescents in Nova Scotia' (paper presented to the annual meeting of the Canadian Political Science Association, Edmonton 1975), 23-8. 25 Simeon and Elkins, 'Regional political cultures,' table iv. 26 Bellamy, 'Background and political cultures,' 14.

167 An Atlantic region political culture 27 Ibid. 28 Beck, 'The Maritimes: region or three provinces?' 3-4. 29 Peter Neary and SJ.R. Noel, 'Continuity and change in Newfoundland polities' (paper presented at the annual meeting of the Canadian Political Science Association, St John's 1971), 4. 30 SJ.R. Noel, Politics in Newfoundland (Toronto 1971), 4. 31 Bellamy, 'Background and political cultures,' 8. 32 Ibid., 4. 33 Noel, Politics in Newfoundland, 5. 34 Harold Horwood, 'Holding on,' Maclean's 85 (February 1972): 51. 35 Neary and Noel, 'Continuity and change,' 15. 36 Horwood, 'Holding on,' 32. 37 Fred Rowe, 'Farley Mowat and other Newfie jokes,' Maclean's 86 (August 1973): 11-12.

38 Peter Neary, 'Party politics in Newfoundland, 1949-71: a survey and analysis,' Journal of Canadian Studies 6 (November 1971): 6. 39 Neary and Noel, 'Continuity and change,' 20. 40 Neary, 'Party politics in Newfoundland,' 6. 41 Ibid. 42 J.M. Beck, Pendulum of power: Canada's federal elections (Scarborough 1968), 265. 43 See Susan McCorquodale, 'Newfoundland: the only living father's realm,' in Robin, ed., Canadian provincial politics, 145-6. 44 Noel, Politics in Newfoundland, 283-4. 45 McCorquodale, 'Newfoundland: the only living father's realm,' 146. 46 Simeon and Elkins, 'Regional political cultures,' table iv. 47 Bellamy, 'Background and political cultures,' 6. 48 Ibid., 7. 49 Neary and Noel, 'Continuity and change,' I. 50 Ibid., 19. 51 C. Winn and J. McMenemy, Political parties in Canada (Toronto 1976), 79-81. 52 Globe (Toronto), 5 Jan. 1911. 53 Schwartz, Politics and territory, 103-4, 310-11. 54 Jabbra and Landes, 'A Maritime political culture?' 19. 55 The report on Maritime union commissioned by the governments of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Prince Edward Island, 1970, 9-10, 65, 73. 56 See Beck, 'Maritimes: region or three provinces?' n. 57 The 4th Estate (Halifax), 12 Dec. 1974. 58 See R.H. Leach, 'Interprovincial cooperation in the Maritime provinces,' A report to the Maritime union study, 33. 59 See 'Interprovincial organization of the Maritime and Atlantic provinces,' A report to the Maritime union study, esp. section B, and Henson, 'Interprovincial cooperation in perspective,' chap. 3. 60 Leach, 'Interprovincial cooperation,' 84, 99.

168 J. Murray Beck 61 Alton A. Lomas, '"The Council of Maritime Premiers": a report and evaluation after five years' (paper presented to the twenty-eighth annual conference of the Institute of Public Administration of Canada, Halifax 1976), 18. 62 Beck, 'Maritimes: region or three provinces?' 13. 63 Alexander B. Campbell, Gerald A. Regan, and Richard B. Hatfield, 'The move toward Maritime integration and the role of the Council of Maritime Premiers,' Canadian Public Administration xv (1972): 596-7, 600. 64 Loyalist (Halifax), 15 Oct. 1977. 65 See Wilbert E. Moore and Arnold S. Feldman, eds., Labour commitment and social change in developing areas (New York 1960), 364. 66 Professor E.R. Forbes' recent book, The Maritime Rights movement, 79/9-27: a study in Canadian regionalism (Montreal 1978), tends to reinforce the two major arguments of this article. By demonstrating Prince Edward Island's minuscule part in the Maritime Rights movement and the de facto existence of two largely independent movements in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, the book adds corroboratory evidence that the provinces do not meet the rigorous conditions for a region as defined in my article. That the Maritimes did not even fully appreciate their disadvantaged position until after World War i, that it took, in addition, their failure to recover from the post-war recession to produce a movement that was anything but 'grass roots' in character, and that the old-line parties could easily turn it into channels that constituted no danger to their existence, all support the view I have taken of the provinces' political cultures.

DAVID E. SMITH

Political culture in the west

Political culture is an ambiguous concept. Like God and the Mafia, it seems to elude empirical testing and for this reason some social scientists suspect its properties border too closely on the metaphysical for the term to be employed with confidence. Ronald Rogowski, an American scholar, has described political culture as 'couched in such a welter of "mays" and 'perhapses" that a ... test of [the theory] is all but impossible.'1 More recently the methodological problems surrounding the concept have been enlightened by the careful analysis of a Canadian political scientist, David V.J. Bell, of York University.2 The questions he poses reveal the primitive state of political culture theory: what are its elements, how is it transmitted through time and across space, what is the appropriate level of analysis (that is, the individual or society), what data can be used to test theories, and what impact does culture have on behaviour? With rare exceptions, answers to these questions in the existing literature are contradictory. Frequently, political culture is invoked as a residual explanation when all others fail. Despite these problems, the potential for political culture as a tool of analysis has been demonstrated - not least in papers given at past meetings of the Western Canadian Studies Conference. In 1970, after examining Canadian duality and its rejection in the west, W.L. Morton concluded that 'the west today from Ontario to the Rockies has its own peculiar character, social and political.'3 The elements of that character and their persistence or change over time require further investigation. But what approach should be used, especially when limited by time and space? I have chosen to pose three questions of enduring importance to the west and to record the continuities and discontinuities in the region's response: what is the west's atti-

Iyo David E. Smith tude to cultural dualism? what is its attitude to the central government? and how can it influence decisions of that government? To those who ask why these particular questions should be accepted, my response is to quote Clifford Sifton: 'I have no doubt whatever that there are a great many people whose opinions are perhaps just as valuable as mine who do not agree with me, but my opinion whether it be right or wrong is very strongly entertained.'4 Perhaps the most critical question at this time is the attitude of the west to Canada's fundamental norm of cultural dualism, a norm present for over two hundred years, confirmed in the last decade by the federal government's language legislation and challenged in the west since the beginning of this century. Regional dissent arose originally because the norm did not coincide with the experience of an immigrant, frontier society, and it has achieved new intensity because of federal policies that throw in doubt the legitimacy of that experience. Neither bilingualism / biculturalism nor multiculturalism has roots in the west; each betrays a profound disregard for the region's history. Consociational democratic theory, which seeks to explain the political stability of segmented plural societies like the Netherlands, talks of 'blocs' or 'civilization areas.' The west, like Quebec, approximates this type of bloc, but Canadian policies, by their failure to take account of the west's distinctiveness, perpetuate the region's exclusion from a norm that most definitely embraces Quebec. None the less, for the English, the French, and the non-English non-French, the heart of the matter in the west has been and is language. Those language disputes of the west that have assumed classic proportions have invariably centred on French. And because of either practice or law the language issue has nearly always been joined to the separate school question. The struggle to deprive both the French language and the separate schools of official recognition convulsed Manitoba politics at the end of the last century and regularly fuelled Saskatchewan politics between the grant of autonomy in 1905 and the disappearance of the Ku Klux Klan in I930.5 It is striking that no similar controversy appears to have agitated Alberta politics. In his thesis on nativism in Alberta, Howard Palmer depicts the origin and course of anti-radical, anti-Catholic, and anti-foreign feeling in that province.6 But in none of these streams of nativism was the French language or the separate school system singled out for concerted attack. This contrast between Alberta and the other prairie provinces is surprising in light of the larger

iyi Political culture in the west number of American immigrants in Alberta who, imbued with the first amendment of the American constitution, might have been expected to challenge the educational privileges of a single class of people. It is also unexpected that, of the provinces where denominational rights in education were guaranteed, Alberta should have been the only one immune to Canada's congenital complaint. The relationship between this linguistic / educational anomaly and the impotency of the traditional parties in Alberta suggests that the original political parties of confederation, constructed to bridge the cultural cleavage of central Canada, succeeded on the prairies only as long as that cleavage was maintained in provincial politics. By this analysis, the eclipse of the old parties would come first in Manitoba (where in fact its decline was retarded until 1916 by the Laurier-Greenway compromise), next in Alberta where the old parties never had any relevance for this issue, and last in Saskatchewan where religion, language, and education remained a lively issue until the early 1930S.7 Cultural dualism was obliterated in the west by the tide of European immigration that swept over the prairies during the Laurier years. To have secured dualism against this flood would have required heroic efforts at French migration or repatriation from the United States. Proponents of this massive undertaking argued that 'les deux elements reunis contribueraient efficacement a contrebalancer 1'influence etrangere' but the disinclination of the rural Quebecois to move west when the attractions of Montreal, New England, and even the Laurentians beckoned proved conclusive.8 In a striking example of cross-pressure, the Roman Catholic Church in the west found itself torn between duty to the immigrant and solicitude for its French patrimony. As one observer noted in 1911, the job of saving the souls of the Ruthenians and others was 'sufficient to fire the zeal of an apostle. What do we find our Archbishop doing? His whole energy is taken up in trying to bolster up a lost cause, so far as the west is concerned. The great western provinces are now, and will always be English. Every foreigner coming there will become English in speech if not in sentiment.'9 Language was as central to the history of the English Canadian, American, and British immigrants in western Canada as it was to either the nonEnglish or the French. That the English language prevailed after what in retrospect must appear an insensitive depreciation of other languages and ethnic groups should not obscure the crucial influence this event had for prairie political culture. Anglo-Saxon attitudes, especially when expressed

172 David E. Smith fifty years ago in the florid rhetoric of Saskatoon's vigilant defender of a British west. Bishop Lloyd, may be deplored by the pluralist standards of the 19705. But in his time Lloyd's extremism was not that of a lunatic. It was the intemperate expression of a widely shared sentiment that 'the English language ... was vitally important as both the medium which conveyed English-Canadian values and also the symbol of those values.'10 For the development of the west, Clifford Sifton had wanted farmers regardless of nationality. But his open-door policy on immigration was not universally approved at home and he regularly had to fight the prejudice against the non-English. To him, the English, particularly from the Midlands and the south, were the least desirable immigrants. Their urban or even rural wage-earning status made them no rival, he thought, to the independent European peasant. His experience with the Barr Colony English was far from happy, and their constant demands for help confirmed his view that 'once a man is taken hold of by the Government and treated as a ward he seems to acquire the sentiments of a pauper, and forever after will not stand on his own feet or try to help himself.'11 After World War I, however, concerted efforts were made to attract the British through a variety of emigration schemes, most of which included some form of assisted passage. In western Canada support for British immigration arose from a desire to reduce the ethnic imbalance which had become manifest, it was claimed, as the post-war movement from country to city accelerated.12 The effect of British immigration on the west has yet to be studied in any detail, although British leadership in the early days of the region's associations - political parties, labour unions, and farm organizations comprise an obvious but incomplete list - is clearly evident. Unlike the other immigrant groups, the British in western Canada encountered little initial opposition in transmitting their values. Indeed, by the 19208, British immigration was sought to stabilize a society disturbed by the ethnic upheaval of the war and the farmers' revolt afterward. British immigration thus reinforced the English-Canadian 'fragment,' although it gave primacy to only half of that hyphenated culture. The difference in emphasis further contributed to the west's separation from Canada's cultural dualism. At the inaugural Western Canadian Studies Conference in 1969, J.E. Rea used Louis Hartz' model of fragment cultures to explain the west's negative response to bilingual and bicultural policies. The fragment metaphor and Rea's conclusion that 'the persistence of French Canadian culture is a con-

173 Political culture in the west tinuing reminder of the price ... "new Canadians" had to pay for acceptance' have more recently received empirical corroboration in a study commissioned by the minister responsible for multiculturalism.13 Compared to urban centres in the rest of Canada, researchers found that 'language loss in prairie cities has been very high.'14 Cultural disintegration, which admittedly has occurred more slowly in rural areas, has been accompanied by a growing perception among descendents of the non-English of themselves as 'Canadians' rather than 'ethnics' (66.9 versus 1.6 per cent). This self-perception has been challenged however by their own government's espousal of a policy, evident in Book IV of the Report of the Royal Commission on Bilingualism and Biculturalism,) which sees 'Canada ... [possessing] two predominent cultures that have produced two societies - Francophone and Anglophone which form two distinct communities within an overall Canadian context.'15 It is scarcely surprising that these opposing interpretations have produced the tension documented by the multiculturalism report: 'Children of Canadian-born parents ... showed more anxiety about discrimination than did the children of immigrant parents. The feeling that their ethnic origin may be an obstacle to their future careers was strongest among the third generation.'16 For descendants of the non-English non-French, bilingualism and biculturalism are threats, and multiculturalism, the third and by far the weakest cultural policy innovation of the 19708, is an affront to their history. I recognize that this is an incendiary statement. It is frequently said that multiculturalism has replaced biculturalism, that multiculturalism is relevant to the west (and desired by it), that it is more than a folklore program, and that it serves the needs of a variety of ethnic groups. All of these comments raise important points about the policy, but they do not negate the scepticism implicit in the original criticism. What is the government's intention with regard to this policy? What function does the policy have for ethnic groups? Is the function the same for all of them in a region? Is it the same for groups in different regions? As has been noted elsewhere, multiculturalism may actually 'integrate ethnic identity with Canadian identity' by conferring 'public recognition [on] diverse subcultures, not as foreign, but as Canadian.'17 This would seem to be one of the government's objectives, for it has recently declared that, although culture is a web of attitudes and language its means of transmission, yet 'within the English speaking and French speaking communities of Canada there is room for numerous other cultural groups.'18

iy4 David E. Smith On the prairies the marriage of bilingualism to multiculturalism will not work harmoniously because the costs of assimilation have already been paid. It is not practicable to suggest that they be recouped through a poorly funded, weak program which has been designed to appeal to the wave of immigrants who settled in southern Ontario after World War n. Grants under the multiculturalism program for 1972-3 to the end of the second quarter of the fiscal year 1974-5 amounted to $4,288,881 of which Ontario received $2,179,000. According to the public accounts of Canada for 1976-7, the expenditure on 'multiculturalism and group understanding' through the citizenship program of the Department of the Secretary of State had increased only to a total of $6,680,000.19 For the past fifteen years the Liberal party has sought to accommodate the interests of these new, urban, ethnic communities. Liberal 'ethnic MPS' were to bring the Grit message to those 'new Canadians.'20 The strategy succeeded in Ontario but failed in the west where the label 'ethnic' has ceased to carry either stigma or benefit. The second issue which has led to the evolution of a distinctive political culture in the west has been its attitude to the power of the central government. With the exception of Quebec, perhaps no region of the country has fretted more about central domination than the west. The concern is almost as old as confederation and as recent as the decision by the Supreme Court in Canadian Industrial Gas and Oil Limited v. The Government of Saskatchewan et al (CIGOL) in November 1977. The main problem has been economic, although a large number of other irritants emanate from Ottawa to aggravate the economic complaint.21 Preoccupation with central control is hardly surprising for an area whose natural resources, unlike those of the older provinces, were reserved by the federal government until 1930. In fact, in 1912 when the southern reaches of the North-West Territories were divided among the provinces bordering Hudson Bay, the natural resources for Manitoba's new north were retained by Ottawa (as they had been for the south since 1870), but similar treatment of Ontario and Quebec does not Appear even to have been considered. The political economy of dependency as applied to the west has been discussed too often to bear repeating in this short paper, but its effects on the region's political culture require elaboration. Both Liberals and Conservatives thought that, because Ottawa had purchased the northwest, the resources of that vast territory were to be used as the federal government saw fit. In the field of immigration, one of two concurrent powers specified in the

175 Political culture in the west British North America Act, that theory held unexpected political implications. On the one hand the federal authorities would not pay bonuses to agents for emigrants who settled east of the Ontario-Manitoba boundary because, as Sir Charles Tupper, then high commissioner in London, said, 'The Dominion Government do not own any land in the Older Provinces.'22 On the other hand the prairie provinces adopted a hands-off policy toward immigration arguing that without control of their resources there could be no provincial responsibility. Refusal to accept responsibility was politically expedient because it directed criticism of the policy away from the prairie governments, but it had the paradoxical result of giving least influence to the area of the country most affected by immigration.23 Central control was not, of course, restricted to immigration. In Sifton's time there was 'an integrated system of policies' which included the tariff, the transportation system, and land settlement. Agriculture was the 'fulcrum' by which investment, employment, and prosperity would be promoted. While he was minister of the interior, Sifton's bureaucratic reforms and policy innovations were perceived in the west as beneficial to the region even if they were manifestations of central control. As a consequence he was popular and never more so than when he resigned in 1905 over the original separate school provisions of the Autonomy Bills. Sifton was favoured by a buoyant world economy and a unique period of domestic development in which the west commanded rare national attention. Although the costs of dependency were less easily masked after World War I, Sifton's formula of aggressive policies and personal control proved electorally beneficial to later politicans like James G. Gardiner. It has not done the same for Otto Lang, the chief western minister in the federal government for the last decade, because his initiatives have been viewed as subversive of such fundamental guarantees to the region as the Canadian Wheat Board and the statutory Crow's Nest Pass Freight Rates. The prolonged debate over rail line abandonment and the current dispute over the future of the Hall Commission's proposed Prairie Rail Authority, the body slated to make the tough decisions to close lines, are only recent examples of this perennial concern westerners have to protect themselves against the centre. The CIGOL judgment, which found a contentious mineral tax ultra vires the Saskatchewan legislature because it was deemed to be indirect as well as an interference with interprovincial trade, poses the old threat in new form.24 By the sweep of its majority opinion, the court has indicated that other resource

Ij6 David E. Smith conflicts will be similarly decided. Adverse regional response to the decision can only be appreciated if the west's previous attempts to resist central control are remembered. Natural resources have only seldom not been an issue for the prairie provinces, but they are not the sole cause of discontent. A situation corresponding to the current dispute was the Aberhart government's unsuccessful attempt in the late 19308 to translate Social Credit monetary theories into provincial legislation. On that occasion the federal government was provoked into using its disallowance power, an action which the Supreme Court sustained. In both that instance and the more recent resources conflict sound economic reasons could be given for defending the central power, but these arguments have not assuaged local sentiment. The rules of the game appeared to favour one side and the constitution liable to be invoked by the federal authority to limit local autonomy. Demands for constitutional change emanate from all sections of the country these days, but the reasons behind the demands vary according to the region. In the west the source of discontent is less cultural or economic than it is frustration with the way the federal system operates. National institutions are viewed as central institutions. This view may seem inevitable given the west's experiments with third parties and its perennial opposition to national economic policies, but there is now a difference in perspective which is revealed in the growing support for constitutional change. In itself there is no reason why the west should not seek reforms to accommodate its interests, except for the peculiarly narrow view of the constitution it brings to the discussion. Preoccupation with Senate reform is an example of the difficulty. It is a sobering comment on the political ingenuity of reformers that that body of little political importance continues to be as troublesome as it was for the fathers of confederation at Quebec City. The west sees its problem with the Senate as one of representation (and has so seen it for over half a century). But how would a reconstituted Senate - or any other body with members selected by provincial governments - succeed in wielding the influence the west feels it is denied now? The weakness the region complains of is less the product of imperfect representation than it is dissatisfaction with the rigours of cabinet government. Discontent on the periphery with policies devised, implemented, and defended at the centre will not disappear as a result of palliatives like a reformed Senate. In light of the west's reaction to central control, of which the CIGOL decision is only the most recent example, it is hardly surprising that the third

iy? Political culture in the west (and last) of the continuing questions of regional political life has been how to influence the decisions made at the centre. Indeed, this is surely the most frequently asked, probably because its answer is of pragmatic rather than philosophical interest. For three quarters of a century the region has sought to influence government by working successively in the following ways: first through the dominant party of the period, next through third-party persuasion of the dominant party, then through third-party balance-of-power tactics, and finally through the principal opposition party. No other area of the country has experimented with so many partisan alternatives and had so little apparent satisfaction from the results. Through it all, the west's legislative challenge to the centre has inevitably been qualified by two certainties: first, the seats of the four western provinces when taken together fall far short of Ontario's (and under the redistribution formula that came into effect at the time of the general election in 1979, they just exceed Quebec's), and secondly, Tory rumours to the contrary notwithstanding, Quebec remains a Grit stronghold. It is a mistake to think of representation in legislative terms only. If that were the case, westerners would have been indentured to Ontario long ago. Representation also takes place in a variety of institutions, of which the cabinet is probably the most obvious. Elite accommodation is a popular theory these days and hardly a book appears on Canadian politics that does not describe the tenacious promotion in cabinet of local interests by some provincial chief. But as Reginald Whitaker has shown in his study, The government party, the Liberals in the 19505 grew unresponsive to local interests even as regional ministers assumed control of the party in their area.25 The depiction of cabinet as composed of provincial advocates is an oversimplification, if not a distortion, both of the role of the federal minister and of the mechanics whereby local interests may be represented at the centre. On the one hand it claims too much, for in every federal system, and in Canada since 1867, the federal executive is composed so as to recognize its parts. It would be more remarkable if it did not. On the other hand it does not claim enough, for to identify the ministers with their home province fails to explain their strengths and weaknesses in cabinet. We must be careful not to project regionalism to the point that we fail to see horizontal linkages where they occur.26 Representation may occur through the bureaucracy as well, either by institutionalizing the interests of a special group - the classic case is the vete-

iy8 David E. Smith rans - or by employing its members as civil servants. The latter approach is the basis of the federal government's bilingual and biculturalism policy as applied to the public service. It is a policy that particularly excites westerners who see it as unnecessary as well as discriminatory.27 Although the west has never received similar official preference in the Ottawa bureaucracy, it should be said that in recent years Saskatchewan's contribution to the mandarin class has far exceeded her modest place in confederation and has included the deputy minister of finance, the former clerk of the Privy Council who later became secretary of the cabinet for federal-provincial relations, the governor of the Bank of Canada, and the president of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. It might also be added that Saskatchewan is probably not greatly comforted by this presence in Ottawa's eyrie. Pressure group activity is another method of representing interests, although party discipline in the Canadian parliament frustrates those who try to imitate the tactics of the United States farm bloc. In the west the traditional pressure groups were the early grain-growers' associations and the Pools. These behemoths were broadly based, non-partisan organizations whose demands on government appear in retrospect to have been remarkably modest.28 The same cannot be said of their modern counterparts (the present-day Pools, the National Farmers' Union, the Palliser Wheat Growers' Association), who are both more numerous and specialized as a result of the increasing complexity of government and the economy. Greater government willingness to take responsibility for the economy feeds a demand for special interest programs and support that can never be completely met, as is evident today with the continuing friction between the federal government and the western farmers' organization over wheat, feed grain, and livestock operations. The recent history of the Liberal party suggests another aspect of the problem the region faces in trying to influence the centre. The party has repeatedly shown that it cannot elect its candidates. Unpopular policies and poor electoral organization are the major reasons for this failure, but internal structural reforms of the last decade have also made accommodation of the west's interests more difficult. In the late 19608 senior people in the Liberal party became enamoured with participatory democracy and the idea of creating a new party that would be a countervailing force to special interests and the bureaucracy. Unlike the

179 Political culture in the west old party, a sporadic electoral machine, the new party would be 'a continuing, community service organization.'29 To promote participation and communication, the party organized, among other things, an elaborate three-phased policy structure, which would involve both experts and rankand-file members. The details of how all of this worked, or did not work, are secondary to the general point that the experiment was divorced from regional concerns. As part of its new role the national headquarters formulated questions and alternatives from which it sought 'feedback.' One of the difficulties was in 'finding ... subjects which [were] equally topical in all parts of the country.'30 For a region with a restricted but still passionate interest in agriculture, a series of policy discussions about pollution, poverty, the cities, and the 'current issues' proved frustrating. Headquarters, it is true, recognized the potential problem of groups becoming alienated 'from the government which sought their opinion but rejected it in favour of the majority.'31 Westerners, like Sir John A. Macdonald's rich, were always in a minority and in a 'dialogue' their views were regularly ignored. In conclusion, the salient characteristics of western political culture may be summarized as follows. There is a cultural cleavage between the west and central Canada that began with the rejection of English-French dualism on the prairies in the last century, a rejection reinforced by immigrants for whom the original cleavage of confederation is meaningless. Central control, either public (governmental) or private (corporate), has repeatedly threatened the west and is consequently suspect. In response, western co-operatives, western political parties, and western provincial governments have sought to protect regional resources and to assert regional autonomy against central domination. While their success has been qualified, it has surpassed the west's experience of operating through national governmental institutions that ignore to a remarkable degree the federal society of Canada. These continuities in regional political culture are all the more striking for their persistence through a period of great change. The prairies no longer form the integrated region they once did forty years ago. Winnipeg has ceased to give 'civilization and autonomy to the region as a whole.'32 Instead, there are competing centres for dominance within the provinces, each pursuing its own model of economic and social development. Each, nonetheless, articulates a set of values which derives from the common heritage of western political culture.

i8o David E. Smith NOTES 1 Ronald Rogowski, Social structures and stable rule: a general theory (Princeton University, Center of International Studies, Technical report no.3, September 1969), 1-12. 2 David VJ. Bell, 'Methodological problems in the study of Canadian political culture' (unpublished paper prepared for the annual meeting of the Canadian Political Science Association, 1974), and 'Social change and political culture. After modernity, what?' (unpublished paper prepared for Conference on Political Change, Saskatoon, Sask., March 1977). 3 W.L. Morton, 'The west and the nation, 1870-1970,' in Anthony W. Rasporich and Henry C. Klassen, eds, Prairie perspectives 2 (Toronto 1973), 20. 4 Clifford Sifton to W.W. Buchanan, 15 Feb. 1899, Letterbooks, Sifton papers, 230, pp.859~6o. All citations from the Sifton and Laurier papers are taken from the Mabel Timlin papers, University of Saskatchewan Archives (AUS), Saskatoon. Dr Timlin transcribed hundreds of pages of Public Archives of Canada (PAC) records during her researches. 5 David E. Smith, Prairie Liberalism: the Liberal party in Saskatchewan, 7905—71 (Toronto 1975), 200. 6 H. Palmer, 'Nativism and ethnic tolerance in Alberta, 1920-1972' (unpublished PHD thesis, York University 1973). 7 For a discussion of the west's party system from the perspective of class and cultural cleavages, see Jane Jenson, 'Aspects of partisan changes: class relations and the Canadian party system' (unpublished paper prepared for Conference on Political Change, Saskatoon, March 1977), 14-19. The absence of a 'school question' in Alberta is noted by George F.G. Stanley, 'French and English in western Canada,' in Mason Wade, ed., Canadian dualism: studies in French-English relations (Toronto 1960), 329, and in Canada, Report of the Royal Commission on Bilingualism and Biculturalism; Book iv: The cultural contribution of the other ethnic groups (Ottawa 1970), 104-5 8 Father J.A. Therien to Laurier, 18 Mar. 1907, Laurier papers, 122565, Timlin papers, AUS. For more on French migration, see Albert Faucher, 'Explication socioeconomique des migrations dans 1'histoire du Quebec,' and Robert Painchaud, 'Les origines des peuplements de langue fran£aise dans 1'Ouest canadien, 1870-1920: mythes et realites,' Royal Society of Canada, Transactions, xm, ser. 4 (1975): 91-121. 9 J.K. Barrett to D. Falconio, i Mar. 1911, Laurier papers, 182331, Timlin papers, AUS.

10 Marilyn Barber, 'Nationalism, nativism and the social gospel: the Protestant church response to foreign immigrants in western Canada, 1897-1914,' in Richard Allen, ed., The social gospel in Canada (Ottawa 1975), 190. n Clifford Sifton to W.W. Buchanan, n Feb. 1899, Letterbooks, Sifton papers, 230, pp.787~9, Timlin papers, AUS.

i8i Political culture in the west 12 For a discussion of migration to the cities, see C.A. Dawson, 'Canada as a country of immigration,' in Proceedings of the Ninth Annual Meetings of Canadian Agricultural Economics Society (Saskatoon 1937), 67. See also Saskatchewan, Royal Commission on Immigration and Settlement, Records of proceedings (1930), 52: 56 for an example of concern about ethnic imbalance. 13 J.E. Rea, 'The roots of prairie society,' in David P. Gagan, ed., Prairie perspectives (Toronto 1970), 54. For more recent reflections on this subject by the same author, see 'My main line is the kiddies ... make them good Christians and good Canadians, which is the same thing,' in Wsevolod Isajiw, ed., Identities: the impact of ethnicity on Canadian society (Toronto 1977), 3-11. 14 K.G. O'Bryan et al., Non-official languages: a study in Canadian multiculturalism (Ottawa 1975), 372. 15 Canada, Report of the Royal Commission on Bilingualism and Bicuhuralism; Book iv: The cultural contribution of the other ethnic groups (Ottawa 1970), 4. 16 O'Bryan et al., Non-official languages, 12. 17 Raymond Breton et al., 'The impact of the ethnic groups on Canadian society: research issues,' in Isajiw, ed., Identities., 199-200. 18 Canada, A national understanding: statement of the government of Canada on the official languages policy (Ottawa 1977), 21-2. 19 See Canada, House of Commons, Debates, 27 Jan. 1975, 2606 and Public Accounts of Canada, 1976-7, 23-8. Also see Commons Debates, 21 July 1977, 7888-90, and 21 Mar. 1978, 3979-85, for discussion of policy and finances. 20 Memo from A.R. O'Brien (national director of the Liberal party, 1966-9) to file re: 'Ethnic affairs and new Canadians,' 10 Dec. 1968, Stanbury papers, 6, PAC. (Senator R.J. Stanbury was president of the Liberal party of Canada between 1968 and 1973.) 21 See, for example, Report of the western premiers' task force on constitutional trends, May 1977. Thirty-one of its fifty-three pages are devoted to an 'Inventory of federal intrusions' covering communications and the administration of justice as well as the more publicized resources disputes. 22 Charles Tupper to T.M. Daly (minister of the interior), 29 July 1893, Immigration Branch records, reel 2.627. The Immigration Branch records are available in the Archives of Saskatchewan. 23 For an interesting discussion of immigration as it relates to section 95 of the BNA Act, see W.H. McConnell, Commentary on the British North America Act (Toronto 1977), 304-7. 24 Canadian Industrial Gas and Oil Ltd. v The Government of Saskatchewan et al. (1978) 2 S.C.R., 545-604. 25 Reginald Whitaker, The government party: organizing and financing the Liberal party of Canada, 1930-1958 (Toronto 1977), 2o8ff. 26 Richard Simeon, 'Regionalism and Canadian political institutions,' Queen's Quarterly, 82 (1975): 508. 27 In an attempt to pacify western feelings, the prime minister told a Saskatoon audience early in 1977 that 'there are two equal languages and you can choose the one of the

182 David E. Smith

28 29 30

31 32

two that you want to speak all of your life. You'll never have to learn the other.' Transcript of the prime minister's remarks at the Western Development Museum, Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, 19 Apr. 1977. The elitest implications of the government's official languages policy were underlined when he commented that 'a small number of federal civil servants will have to know French,' Globe and Mail (Toronto), 20 Apr. 1977. For a magisterial study of the evolution of grain marketing, see C.F. Wilson, A century of Canadian grain: government policy to 7957 (Saskatoon 1978). Stanbury to Trisha Jackson, 10 July 1970, Stanbury papers, 3, PAC. Stanbury to S. Gershberg (director of policy research), 5 Feb. 1970, Stanbury papers, n, PAC. An analysis of press coverage of the Harrison Hot Springs policy conference (phase one of the three-phased policy development program), held in November 1969, revealed that of 210 articles from major Canadian newspapers on conference topics i was devoted to agriculture and 28 to 'student unrest.' Stanbury to Tom Bernes, Gloria Kunka, and Fred MacDonald, 6 Feb. 1970, Stanbury papers, I, PAC. G.H. Craig, 'Land utilization policy,' Proceedings of the Seventh Annual Meeting of the Canadian Society of Agricultural Economics (Edmonton 1935), 33-

GERALD FRIESEN

Three generations of fiction: an introduction to prairie cultural history

Because one of Margaret Laurence's characters had Memorybank Movies about a little Manitoba town, and Robert Stead undertook painstaking research into the operation of a threshing machine, and Ralph Connor drew careful maps of North End Winnipeg, the casual reader might be excused for concluding that time and place are important, even defining elements in prairie fiction. But that reader must also acknowledge the blunt denial of a skilled writer like George Bowering, who warned that the 'content' of a novelist's work is 'no reality - all content is made-up or referential.'1 Moreover, he must recognize that at the heart of regional cultural studies, as of works on national identity, is the problem of how to define a literary community. Historians and literary critics have agreed within the last decade that Canadian culture should be investigated within the 'limited identities' of class, ethnic group, and region, but they have attained no consensus on the meaning of these terms.2 This paper asserts that, despite the strictures of aesthetic or formalist critics, we can discover a relationship between literature and environment and that we can discover elements of continuity in prairie cultural history. It demonstrates that there is a coherence in prairie literature, not merely in relation to its own developing forms, as Eli Mandel once contended, but in relation to place, society, and history.3 Prairie literary criticism has been marked by two approaches to regionalism. One important school, the environmentalist, which includes E.A. McCourt, Henry Kreisel, and Lawrence Ricou, emphasizes the moulding influence of landscape upon the novelist. Indeed, McCourt concluded that prairie fiction 'possesses a characteristic flavour born of the artist's involvement with a physical environment.'4 Ricou, who examined the artist's use of

184 Gerald Friesen physical features 'as a reinforcement of the general meaning of the work, and as an index to character,5 similarly concluded that prairie fiction illustrated 'both the prevalence of the myth of the land in Canadian writing and the regional qualities which derive from the encounter with a specific landscape.'5 Kreisel also argued that 'all discussion of the literature produced in the Canadian west must of necessity begin with the impact of the landscape upon the mind.'6 The environmentalist approach to prairie literature raises more problems than it answers, at least at the present stage of knowledge in the social sciences. Literary realism, used by McCourt as a defining characteristic of regional literature and which he associates with accurate, powerful description, has been defined by more recent scholarship as a convention, a set of narrative procedures, 'no truer than the report of any other set of conventions.'7 The landscape, which an environmentalist like Kreisel would argue provides continuity from one author and generation to the next, is regarded by most social scientists as a dynamic rather than a static element whose definition is dependent upon what the observer wants to see or is prepared to see.8 Finally, as Margaret Laurence has pointed out, one's environment is defined not only by the landscape but by the people who live or have lived within it.9 Thus, when studying the literary region, one must keep in mind the variability of its physical features and the importance of its changing social and technological dimensions. It is little wonder that critics often reject the environmentalist perspective on regional literature. A second critical approach to prairie literature, best articulated by Eli Mandel, employs a formalist or aesthetic interpretation of the novel and claims that prairie literary works find their forms less in the local context than in the world of literature. According to this perspective, we students of western history have been confused about whether the prairies constitute a form which authors impose upon resistant material or whether the prairies are themselves a fiercely resistant material upon which we impose forms borrowed from the stories of other cultures. Mandel originally chose the latter interpretation: the prairie was 'a mental construct, a region of the human mind, a myth 5 ; it was created by literature rather than creator of it.10 The coherence of regional prairie literature was therefore mythic, a product of the integration of local literary materials such as folklore, legend, and tall tale into international literature. Mandel concluded his examination of prairie fiction by claiming that it represented a trend toward 'an increasing

185 Three generations of fiction awareness of its own forms.'11 But this is an extreme position. As Mandel has recently admitted, 'even the most rigorously formal argument must finally admit the extent to which writing is local, particular, regional, and therefore, in Canadian terms, native in its concerns and interests.'12 The following pages elaborate upon this comment. They provide an historical perspective on three generations of prairie cultural history, using as their focus the native concerns and interests of prairie fiction, and taking as their subject the literary forms and social context employed or created by these works. One additional comment on the relationship between the works examined here and Canadian fiction in languages other than English or from cultures other than British Canadian is necessary. It is a truism to say that every cultural group in Canada has different roots, but the relationship of literary works from these backgrounds to the national literary heritage is only slowly being explained. To use just one example, Russian Mennonite fiction in Canada, to a large extent a phenomenon of the post-1917 flight from the Ukraine, first concentrated upon the Russian experience of Mennonites (as in Arnold Dyck's Lost in the steppe), and then upon the difficult transition to Canadian society (as in Rudy Wiebe's Peace shall destroy many).13 Only in the last two decades has the European context of the culture faded and the western Canadian context assumed primary importance. Wiebe may still write from a Mennonite perspective, but his work on Big Bear and Riel and his comments upon regional protest suggest that he is now a western Canadian Mennonite. Because each group has its own cultural history with its own rhythms and turning points, the transition from a European or ethnic to a Canadian perspective is too large a topic to be discussed here. This paper will therefore put the ethnic literature to one side and concentrate upon the literature of the British Canadian mainstream. When the west was first translated from map into prose, it was a wilderness dominated by the fur trade. It remained in that state until the closing decades of the nineteenth century, though portions of the western interior were little changed until the airplane replaced the canoe a mere forty or even thirty years ago. The time of the transition from the fur trade world should be emphasized because it underlines how recent is the western Canadian encounter with a pervasive wilderness and because it suggests that the first literary west in Canada was created after the romantic era and after the American wilderness experience. The works of literature produced in Rupert's Land presented ambiguous perceptions of the wilderness, probably

186 Gerald Friesen a predictable result in an age when the romantic visions of Wordsworth and James Fenimore Cooper were juxtaposed with the aggressive ideal of conquest expressed by the Upper Canadian or American mid-western pioneer. But the dominant image in this first generation of prairie literature, ca. 1750-1914, lay not in confrontation with wilderness but in the pastoral ideal which was the result of the writers' wilderness experience. Whether described as a former garden or an untouched land, the west was to be the home of a new society; the pastoral ideal was thus moved from literature into history, from form into reality, and became both a place and a mode of belief. In the eighteenth and the first half of the nineteenth century, when the condition of the western interior underwent few dramatic changes in European eyes, literary interpretations of the society and environment employed modes of thought inherited at once from ancient times and from more recent romantic and primitivist works. Thus, the west of Robert Ballantyne, the fur trader and adventure novelist, was often represented by vistas of beauty and peace.14 The west of Protestant clergymen in the same era, men like John West and William Cockran, was a place of moral degradation and material want,15 The contrast between Utopian and malevolent nature, an ambiguity which might have sustained a convincing pastoral, was never explored effectively by these writers, although Alexander Ross and Charles Mair did wrestle with the problem.16 Instead, the contrast gave way to literary interpretations which repeated one or both views of wilderness as a foil against which to measure the progress of the pioneer. William Francis Butler, for example, when submitting his classic travel narrative to the British government, could describe the west as an Eden and an inferno in the same paragraph and then, without missing a beat in his rhythmic prose, relish the prediction that a new nation would take shape in the Great Lone Land.17 The western wilderness might be either a pleasing Utopia or a howling waste, but its most important characteristic was that it represented an opportunity and a challenge; it was seen not for what it was but for what it could become. From the earliest writing of the Ontario annexationists in the mid-i85os, the west was a potential garden and the pioneer was the agent of'civilization' or of God. For the next fifty years, western Canadian writers, like Americans of the eighteenth century, created from their wilderness not an element in a literary design but a place where the pastoral ideal might become real. The 'West,' which in post-confederation Canada had a precise geographical location, had become an idyllic region.

187 Three generations of fiction Ralph Connor can be taken as the representative of that age. The embodiment of muscular Christianity in the United States, or of imperial expansionism in Britain, Connor was the spokesman for the west for Canadians. Though his novels were written according to a romantic formula, they should not be dismissed as irrelevant. Connor had first agreed to write 'true' stories of the frontier in order to aid Presbyterian missions in the west, an impulse which is evident in his work until 1914, and the popularity of the novels suggests that they found the proper note.18 The west he created was built upon comparisons between the new land and older societies: it was young, not old; free, not restrained by convention; egalitarian, not caste-bound; virile, not feeble; close to nature, not urban. It offered a new start, not enslavement by history. The contrasts had the ring of reality, rather than fantasy, because they were built upon a familiar literary form and because they echoed the boundless optimism of the American pastoral ideal. Like the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century English pastoral, which revived the Virgilian mode but removed the negative aspects of rural life, Connor's novels created tensions between present conflict and a longed-for Golden Age, between urban corruption and rural innocence; the west was associated with the coming Golden Age and with natural or rural innocence.19 And, like the American pastoral of the late eighteenth century, which saw the American environment as a middle landscape between wilderness and the city, Connor offered a pastoral ideal in which independent freemen created a new society.20 The environment itself would mould the inhabitants; as one of his characters explained, 'How wonderful the power of this country of yours to transform men'!21 The works of Ralph Connor built upon the narratives and fiction of earlier western writers but provided in themselves a powerful impetus to the creation of a literary region, a pastoral society which stood in sharp contrast to the less perfect societies in eastern Canada, the United States, and Britain. The west which Connor did so much to create was sketched in lesser detail by many writers in the decades before World War I. The contrast between nature and civilization was an obvious theme in the developing territories and fit nicely into resounding sermons about good and evil, west and east, farm and city. Writers as diverse as the future politician, James Garfield Gardiner, and the temperance leader, Nellie McClung, echoed the rhetoric of Connor's Sky pilot and Corporal Cameron.22 But, aside from the contemporary convergence of opinion upon his view of the west, Connor

188 Gerald Friesen provided several other legacies for later literary creations, of which three merit special attention. First, his west was uncongenial to the concept of social class or of class conflict. Though there were clear social divisions between foppish gentry, yeoman farmers, and inferior Europeans, the message of these novels, as of the American pastorals of Jefferson's time or of the learned shepherd in Virgil, was that the educated individual in the ideal society need acknowledge no superiors. Secondly, despite their obvious romantic overtones, these novels were saved from dismissal as mere fantasy by the fact that they seemed to accord with the social possibilities of their time. Finally, in the years after the war, some prairie novels, including works by Connor himself, continued to present the good guy-bad guy polarization and the dream of a Golden Age by establishing a fantasy world beyond conventional place and time and social arrangement. One common example of the fantasy world in western Canada was the mounted police story, and the most prolific of the authors was undoubtedly William Lacey Amy (Luke Allan), whose forty-odd works on such daring characters as Blue Pete, the undercover metis mounted policeman, were published from the 19205 to the early 1950s.23 Another alternative for the romantic writer was to set the novel on a distant agricultural frontier and, as in the novels of John Beames and Harold Baldwin, to perpetuate the old and now tired contrasts between nature and civilization in northern Saskatchewan or in the Peace River country.24 But, as Connor himself discovered, these strategies could not regain the status he had once enjoyed as the foremost literary spokesman for western Canada. The strength of the Connor west, as Frank Watt suggests, was sapped by changes in social thought and in social condition: 'No doubt the life of the West failed Connor as much as Connor failed the West: it could scarcely avoid the descent to the ordinary and humdrum, losing its angels and its devils.'25 A new society, or group of societies, had been created in its place. By World War I, the west was a settled working country and, though social arrangements might appear raw and uncertain, a civilization was in place. Moreover, as any labourer could explain, 'a working country is hardly ever a landscape.'26 When Robert Stead sent his first novel to the publishers in 1912, he wrote that 'although a Western tale there is nothing "Wild West" about it, because the Wild West of literature owes its existence almost entirely to the imagination of certain longbow novelists. I have simply tried to paint prairie life as true to conditions as my ability will permit, and I think

189 Three generations of fiction I may claim that thirty years intimate association with the life of the plains at least to some degree fits me for the task.'27 Stead and his contemporaries created a different west in the generation after 1914, and agriculture -the way of life rather than the economic activity - was paramount in the literary reconstruction. The result was a transition from a single western region to three prairie provinces, from Golden Age to the work life of family farm and country town. The obvious and large contrast between the writing of Sinclair Ross and Ralph Connor, for example, might seem simplistic were it not that, on one side of this balance we might also place W.O. Mitchell, Frederick Philip Grove, and Martha Ostenso, while on the other would be Nellie McClung and Gilbert Parker. The new west was created in two phases, one distinguished by its concern for setting and history, the other by its revitalization of the traditional pastoral ideal. Robert Stead was an important figure in the transition. He had begun his literary career as a newspaper editor in southwestern Manitoba and made his name as the poet who put Connor's west into verse: The city? Oh yes the city Is a good enough place for a while It frowns on the clever and witty And welcomes the rich with a smile, It lavishes money as water, It boasts of its palace and hall, But the city is only the Daughter — The Prairie is Mother of all!28

But Stead moved beyond this older vision of the Golden Age when he turned to the creation of 'realistic' novels and settled upon the themes which preoccupied him for the next twenty years. One, characterized as a Canadian version of the Quest theme, considered how the pioneer's determination to secure comfort and success could destroy his capacity to enjoy the fruits of his labour.29 This was not an innovative use of that ancient pattern - Manitobans like McClung and E.A.W. Gill had used it before him. Stead's second theme, also a well-worn story, juxtaposed the prairie boy and his simple society with the arts and wealth of the urban world, but, instead of announcing the obvious victory of the rustic (as would be the case with McClung), Stead toyed with compromises between rural and urban ways of life. He

190 Gerald Friesen questioned the 'peculiarity of the agriculturist that, among all professions, he holds his own in the worst repute' and he created a social visionary who wanted to 'break up the rectangular survey of the West for something with humanizing possibilities ... which will permit of settlement in groups - villages if you like - where I shall install all the modern conveniences of the city, including movie shows.'30 Like Connor, Stead utilized the contrasts between nature and civilization but his perception of prairie history was radically different and his expectations, too, had changed. The Golden Age was no longer just ahead of westerners but was in the past, in the era of hospitality and innocence known as homestead or pioneer days. The future was now uncertain and, above all, was dominated by the reality of urban power. Even the monolithic region which in Connor's day was described as New Canada, the last best west, had ceased to be a unit. The area that Stead created now had three very different provincial societies and his novels moved self-consciously from one to another. What Stead's characters had in common was not their regional identity but their agrarian identity and their shared problem, the metropolis. Finally, one could argue that, at least in Grain, Stead moved beyond both the romantic formulae and the rhetorical certainty of Connor and confronted the ambiguities in man's relationships with his environment and his society; in place of the idyllic pastoral, he tried to create a genuine pastoral myth.31 In the process he aided in the creation of a new west. When Frederick Philip Grove began to write his prairie novels in the 19205, he must have been aware of the versions of the west created by Connor, Stead, and others of his predecessors. Though an immigrant whose personal career and social philosophy owed far more to his European years than to his stay in Manitoba, Grove was nevertheless an important figure in prairie literature because of his conscious choice of local settings for his work.32 His autobiography. In search of myself, was accepted as fact by a full generation of readers because it accorded with the western vision of Stead and Ostenso.33 His use of landscape and rural-urban or machine-garden contrasts have been discussed in other places, but his use of social history is equally important because Grove was a book-bound novelist whose creations were conscious adaptations of the symbols and themes in the work of others.34 His novels moved from the bush farms of the early settlement days to the prosperous plains farm of Abe Spalding to a market farm in southern Ontario to the satanic mill, an odyssey paralleling that of Canadian agrarian

191 Three generations of fiction society. Grove's prairie novels, like those of Stead, discussed character and society in the same plane and thus merit a place in Raymond Williams' category of realist fiction: in Grove's novels 'the quality and destiny of persons and the quality and destiny of a whole way of life are seen in the same dimension and not as separable issues.'35 It is noteworthy that Williams regards Thomas Hardy, one of Grove's models, as a great representative of that fading tradition. If the novels of Grove and Stead were representative of a first phase in the creation of a new literary west, the early works of Sinclair Ross and W.O. Mitchell are illustrative of a second phase. They place the pastoral world back into the realm of literature where it cannot be mistaken for an object of social policy. Raymond Williams has argued that this development, which he associates with the work of T.S. Eliot and James Joyce, represents the emergence of the city as the dominant vision in modern literature and is accompanied by the disappearance of specific communities like farm, town, or region as important factors in the novel. Real place and social groups have been superseded in these works to be replaced by the personal subjective level, on the one hand, and the universal archetypal or mythical level, on the other.36 When they do appear, farm, village, and region are often utilized as reflections of the character's internal landscape and are thus abstractions or universals rather than vital elements in their own right. And this suggests the role of the environment, physical and social, in As for me and my house and Who has seen the wind. Although both novels can be seen as pastorals, and thus as being continuous with one aspect of the prairie literary tradition, the setting has moved from farm to town and has become symbolic rather than real in the process. The actual society, that of farmer and villager, it need hardly be remarked, are lost in the literary transition to a new west. There are several notable characteristics of this second generation of literary wests, between 1914 and 1945. The most prominent of these, perhaps, is the cult of the pioneer or homestead days which began with Stead's praise of the early days of settlement and is reflected in the extraordinary contemporary interest in local history, local museums, and prairie memoirs. The sentiment is clearly illustrated in the first volume of One Canada, where John Diefenbaker treats the experience of pioneer life as a crucial factor in his character development, but it is evident wherever prairie literary creations celebrate days of childhood, rural innocence, and the early community.37 A second and related consequence is the persistence of the myth of the inde-

192 Gerald Friesen pendent yeoman. In the work of Stead and Grove, as in that of Connor and McClung, class lines are seen as indistinct and subject to ultimate dissolution; in Mitchell's writings they are subsumed by characters like Jake and Saint Sammy, types which have been described as grotesque but certainly not as proletarian. In the Connor west, class was ignored and place was a pastoral ideal; in the west created by Stead, Ross, and their contemporaries, place became a monotonous or materialistic farm and then a mythicized reflection of the soul, while class continued to be treated as an irrelevance. Time acquired new meaning. Moving beyond the past and future of the Connor world and of the world of Robert Stead, Ross and Mitchell ignored time - 'real history and society5 - in their concern for individual identity. They continued the pastoral form and thus properly belong to the second generation of prairie cultural history, but the form is all that remained of the earlier wests created by prairie literature. Prairie society changed dramatically after World War n, and so too did prairie social thought. W.L. Morton's jibe at 'city-bred historians' and their 'pavement mentality' can be applied to almost all artists and academics of this most recent generation who, having been raised within the orbit of urban communications networks and educated at urban universities, live now in an international community.38 Thus, the present literary west, of roughly postwar vintage, seems a different world yet again. Freed from the concept of the west as a pastoral ideal - from history - during the previous generation, it has been freed from the pastoral form as well and has become simply a neighbourhood of the larger twentieth-century city created by international literature. Thus, we now move in a region of the mind that is wholly mythicized and, as W.H. New has suggested, in which 'to speak the language of "West" is not to be merely regional in bias ... but to articulate the tension between order and disorder, myth and reality, that underlies Canadian writing.'39 The distinctiveness and continuity of place, time, and form have apparently disappeared from prairie literature and thus from the prairie literary world although, when we turn to the work of Robert Kroetsch, Sheila Watson, or Margaret Laurence, we still find echoes of earlier wests in the neighbourhoods of their creation. The continuing consciousness of historical context is evident in various aspects of modern prairie fiction. It explains, in part, why social class, one crucial fact of life in metropolitan society, is so rarely discussed in the west created by modern literature: in fiction devoted to a study of the individual,

193 Three generations of fiction and to exploration of earlier images of its own tradition, the issue of social class is not likely to arise. As recent works by Sinclair Ross and W.O. Mitchell attest, ethnic and native identity are more important than class identity in prairie society. Emphasis upon the western literary heritage may also provide the proper context for Margaret Laurence's assertion that 'the time which is present in any story ... must - by implication at least - include not only the totality of the characters' lives but also the inherited time of perhaps two or even three past generations... and the much longer past which has become legend, the past of a collective cultural memory.'40 In fact, the natural environment which so preoccupied novelists a generation ago now takes a subordinate place to the new defining characteristic of the region, its history. Finally, prairie writers' historical consciousness has led them to 'seek to locate Western Canadian fiction within a coherent, developing tradition ...'4I The resultant coherence in prairie literature is not to be found, as Mandel once claimed, in its own developing forms, but in its concern with establishing a proper social mythology for the prairie community. Significantly, this mythology is constructed upon a heritage which includes Butler's wilderness, Connor's Golden Age, Stead's pioneer, and the internalized landscapes of Ross and Mitchell. Modern prairie writers are interested in their social, personal, and literary inheritance and desirous of working within prairie traditions as well as the traditions of world literature. Perhaps this is how they follow Emerson's dictum that artists must employ the symbols in use in their day and nation to convey their enlarged perspective to their fellows.42 The Gunns of Laurence's Selkirk settlement, the Cree of Wiebe's North Saskatchewan valley, the western ethnic regional landscape of Watson's Double hook., and the many levels of Kroetsch's Badlands, to cite only a few, suggest the uses to which history and place have been put in recent prairie literature.43 Continuity and coherence are indeed the distinguishing features of prairie cultural history. Conquest of the wilderness dominated the literary generation which preceded World War I. Agriculture became a central concern of the next literary west until, at the close of that generation, place and setting were divested of most of their reality as independent forces. Throughout both eras, the pastoral form with its associated images of harmonious societies and threatening changes was dominant, though the location of the Golden Age moved from the future, as in the work of Connor, to the past, as in the work of Stead, and then out of real life entirely and into the realm of literary forms,

194 Gerald Friesen as in the writings of Sinclair Ross. The most recent west, a product of an urbanized generation with an international literary outlook, though freed from the pastoral form and the obligations of social criticism, demonstrates that, even in the global village or metropolis, place, society, and history can provide the continuity which defines a literary region. NOTES 1 George Bowering, 'That fool of fear: notes on "A jest of God,'" Canadian Literature 50 (1971): 41. 2 J.M.S. Careless, '"Limited identities" in Canada,' Canadian Historical Review L (1969): i-io; Northrop Frye, 'Conclusion,' in Carl F. Klinck, ed., Literary history of Canada: Canadian Literature in English (2nd ed., Toronto, 1976), m: 318-32. 3 Eli Mandel, 'Romance and realism in western Canadian fiction,' in A.W. Rasporich and H.C. Klassen, eds, Prairie perspectives 2 (Toronto and Montreal 1973), 197-211. 4 Edward A. McCourt, The Canadian west in fiction (Toronto 1970), 125. 5 Laurence Ricou, Vertical man/horizontal world: man and landscape in Canadian prairie fiction (Vancouver 1973), 3-5, 18. 6 Henry Kreisel, 'The prairie: a state of mind,' in Eli Mandel, ed., Contexts of Canadian criticism (Chicago and London 1971), 257. 7 Eli Mandel, 'Images of prairie man,' in Richard Allen, ed., A region of the mind: interpreting the western Canadian plains (Regina 1973), 203. 8 D.W. Moodie, 'Early British images of the plains,' in Richard Allen, ed., Man and nature on the prairies (Regina 1976), I. 9 Margaret Laurence, 'Time and the narrative voice,' in William New, ed., Margaret Laurence (Toronto 1977), 156-60. 10 Mandel, 'Images,' 203. n Mandel, 'Romance,' 202. 12 Eli Mandel, 'The politics of art,' Canadian Forum LVII (September 1977): 29; see also Mandel, 'Writing west: on the road to Wood Mountain,' Canadian Forum LVII (June-July 1977): 25-9. 13 Arnold Dyck, Lost in the steppe, Henry D. Dyck, trans. (Steinbach 1974); and Rudy Henry Wiebe, Peace shall destroy many (Toronto 1962, repr. 1972). 14 Robert Michael Ballantyne, Hudson Bay: or everyday life in North America (London n.d.); for a survey of this literature, see D.R. Owram, Promise of Eden: the Canadian expansionist movement and the idea of the west, 1856-1900 (Toronto 1980). 15 John West, The substance of a journal during a residence at the Red River Colony, British North America, in the years 1820-1823 (Vancouver 1967); see also Owram, Promise of Eden. 16 See Owram, Promise of Eden. 17 W.F. Butler, The great lone land: a narrative of travel and adventure in the north-west of America (London 1872), 385-6.

195 Three generations of fiction 18 'The finding of Ralph Connor,' typescript in RJ.C. Stead papers, vol. 2, Public Archives of Canada (PAC). The article may have been written by Stead and is said to have been published in The Westminster, 8 Dec. 1900, 686-7. 19 See Raymond Williams, The country and the city (London 1973). 20 See Leo Marx, The machine in the garden: technology and the pastoral ideal in America (New York 1967). 21 Ralph Connor [C.W. Gordon], The foreigner: a tale of Saskatchewan (Toronto 1909),

378.

22 James G. Gardiner, The politician; or, The treason of democracy', Norman Ward, ed. (Saskatoon 1975); Nellie L. McClung, Purple springs (Toronto 1921), and Clearing in the west: my own story (Toronto 1935); Ralph Connor [C.W. Gordon], The sky pilot: a tale of the foothills (Toronto 1899), and Corporal Cameron of the North West Mounted Police: a tale of the Macleod Trail (Toronto 1912). 23 Luke Allan [William Lacey Amy], The return of Blue Pete (Toronto 1922); for a list of such works, consult the references to Amy, Ridgwell Cullum, J.O. Curwood, and Harold Bindloss in Reginald Ayre Watters, A checklist of Canadian literature and background materials, 1628-1960 (2nd ed., Toronto 1972). 24 John Beames, Duke (London 1930), and Gateway (London 1932); Harold Baldwin, Pelicans in the sky; a novel (London 1934). 25 Frank Watt, 'Western myth: the world of Ralph Connor,' in Donald G. Stephens, ed., Writers of the prairies (Vancouver 1973), 15. 26 Williams, The country and the city, 120. 27 Stead to T. Fisher Unwin, 14 Nov. 1912, Stead papers, PAC. 28 Robert Stead, 'The Prairie,' in The Empire-Builders and other poems (Toronto 1908), 32. 29 Susan Wood Glicksohn, 'Introduction,' in Robert J.C. Stead, The homesteaders (repr., Toronto 1973), xx. 30 Robert J.C. Stead, The homesteaders, 122, and Dennison Grant: a novel of today (Toronto 1920), 271. 31 For discussion of this term, see Leo Marx, The machine in the garden, and Northrop Frye, 'Conclusion to a "Literary history of Canada",' in his The bush garden: essays on the Canadian imagination (Toronto 1971). 32 Margaret R. Stobie, Frederick Philip Grove (New York 1973). 33 Frederick Philip Grove, In search of myself (Toronto 1946). 34 Kenneth C. Dewar, 'Technology and the pastoral ideal in F.P. Grove,' Journal of Canadian Studies vin (1973): 19-28; John Nause, ed., The Grove symposium (Ottawa 1974). 35 Williams, The country and the city, 201. 36 Ibid., 246-7. 37 John G. Diefenbaker, One Canada, memoirs of the Right Honourable John G. Diefenbaker: the crusading years, 1895-1956 (Toronto 1975). 38 W.L. Morton, 'On seeing an unliterary landscape,' Mosaic m, no.3 (spring 1970): 7. 39 W.H. New, Articulating west: essays on purpose and form in modern Canadian literature (Toronto 1972), xi.

196 Gerald Friesen 40 41 42 43

Margaret Laurence, 'Time and the narrative voice,' 156. Eli Mandel, 'Romance,' 203. Leo Marx, The machine in the garden, 29. A recent valuable discussion of these subjects is Dick Harrison's Unnamed country: the struggle for a Canadian prairie fiction (Edmonton 1977).

DAVID ALEXANDER

Economic growth in the Atlantic region^ 1880-1940

It has been customary for historians to treat the Maritimes and Newfoundland as two regions rather than one. This reflects, very probably, nothing more credible than an academic inertia about widening horizons. While there were profound differences in the level of economic activity and in the rate of growth of the two economies before World War n, Caves and Holton rightly pointed out nearly two decades ago that they shared a common economic niche.1 This essay has several purposes. The first is to encourage historians of the Atlantic region to make more efforts to bridge the Cabot Strait. This effort would give fresh perspectives on the troubles and successes of both the Maritimes and Newfoundland. It would also conform to modern political, economic and planning reality. A second purpose is to provide a systematic quantitative assessment of the growth of the Newfoundland economy from 1880 to 1940 in relation to the Maritimes. Though work has been done on the Maritimes., little exists for Newfoundland for this period. This effort is only a beginning but it does offer a new approach to the island's economic record before confederation. The final objective is controversial. In the Maritimes, even among some cautious academics, there is an 'underground hypothesis' that the provinces sacrificed their economic potential by entering the union with Canada in the i86os and i8yos. By contrast, the sometimes unhappy history of Newfoundland is commonly attributed to its stubborn rejection of the 'Canadian wolf until 1949. Given the economic and social similarities, it is unlikely that these two contradictory hypotheses can both be true. ThereReprinted with minor editorial changes from Acadiensis vm (autumn 1978): 47-76, by permission.

198 David Alexander fore, does the comparative economic performance suggest that the date of entry into confederation was a critical variable in the progress of either the Maritimes or Newfoundland? The union of the British North American colonies provoked both fear and optimism in the Maritimes - fear that the provinces would be reduced to colonies of Upper Canada, and optimism that they would develop into the workshop of the new dominion. That such opposite predictions existed is perhaps a sign of the critical turning-point upon which the Maritimes was poised in the i86os; that it became a dependency rather than a workshop, however, is not in itself proof that the doubters were prescient. The brief trade recession following confederation, and the deeper recession of the i88os and 18905, were taken by opponents of the union as confirmation of their fears. But both were general to Canada and proved nothing. The great boom which swept Canada at the turn of the century, while only generating a mild flutter in the Maritime economy, could be taken as a more serious sign. But Maritime consciousness of economic stagnation and relative decline within the Dominion of Canada only assumed the stature of certainty and reality in the 1920S.2 Since the Maritimes still commanded some weight in the country and the presence of sharp regional inequalities was something that still surprised and concerned Canadians as a whole, the inter-war period was rich in official enquiries of royal stature. These enquiries were usually highly specific - fiscal problems and industry problems - which was a suggestion that the difficulties were not thought to be irrevocable. They began with Sir Andrew Duncan's enquiry into the coal industry in 1925, followed shortly by the more far-reaching enquiry into fiscal arrangements.3 Two years later distress in the fishing industry and the 'trawler question' generated a study by Mr Justice MacLean.4 Duncan returned in 1932 with another study of the coal industry,5 and in 1934 the province of Nova Scotia assembled a distinguished commission to undertake a wide-ranging enquiry into that province's economic troubles.6 A year later Sir Thomas White reviewed the earlier work of Duncan on Maritime claims.7 After 1935, however, the specific problems of the Maritime region were absorbed into the general problem of metropolitan Canada and cthe regions.' The great Royal Commission on Dominion-Provincial Relations began this tradition, although unlike its successor in the 19505, the Gordon commission, it at least published a background study on the Maritimes rather than simply a study of regionalism.8 It was left to Nova Scotia to undertake a

199 Economic growth in the Atlantic region major piece of post-war planning, under R. MacGregor Dawson.9 But apart from another, almost inevitable study of post-war slump in the coal industry, the nation eschewed further enquiries into the Maritimes of the formal magnificence of the inter-war royal commissions.10 Since the problems had not disappeared, this might seem curious. It reflected, in part, the institutionalization of analysis within expanded provincial and federal civil services, where much more enquiry was undertaken in a continuous way rather than by the grand royal commission.11 Moreover, the urgency of enquiry was muted by the growth of prosperity in the region, even if much of it was accounted for by unearned income. One also suspects that some of the urgency that was felt in the inter-war years about the decline of the Maritimes was lost simply because the region had become an insignificant fraction of the nation, and its economic plight was accepted as lacking a solution. Having ceased to be an important area of national concern, the region itself accepted the burden of research.12 Perhaps this is as it should be, but in the 19505 the universities, though numerous, were mainly weak and it is only in recent years that any volume of work, frequently sponsored by government and private organizations, has emerged from them.13 Historical analysis of the decline of the Maritimes is still not voluminous. The established interpretation began in the inter-war period with Saunders, a product of the staples school of geographic determinism, who accepted Maritime decline as a function of the obsolescence of 'wind, wood and sail.'14 This was a narrow interpretation of the structure and dynamism of the nineteenth-century Maritime economy, and it has never been satisfactorily explained why the equally 'woody and windy' Scandinavians managed to pass, at great profit, into the vulgar world of oil-fired turbines. This same geographic determinism accepted the inevitability of manufacturing and financial activity migrating to Upper Canada, and at the end of World War n this resigned pessimism was given a scientific basis. B.S. Keirstead argued that the increasing size of firms at the turn of the century favoured growth in Ontario and western Quebec, with their large population, excellent communications, and agglomerations of labour skills, capital, and inter-industry linkages. The decline of the Maritimes, located on the fringe of the tariff-protected Canadian market, was inevitable, as was the relocation of its financial institutions.15 Historians have recently suggested that the process was not as neutral as Keirstead's arguments imply. E.R. Forbes points to the loss of regional control over the rate structure of the Intercolonial

200 David Alexander Railway in 1918 as the cancellation of a critical tool of regional development which had served the Maritimes well during that previous forty years.16 T.W. Acheson has shown that Maritime entrepreneurs were remarkably successful in the early decades of confederation in shifting the economy from a North Atlantic to a continental focus, although ultimately the absence of a strong regional metropolis left the region's industries vulnerable to takeover, and weak in pressing regional interests in national policy.17 The most direct attack on the widely held Keirstead explanation of Maritime underdevelopment, however, was Roy George's demonstration that there were no cost disadvantages to manufacturing in Nova Scotia for the Atlantic and central Canadian market in the 19605 which could explain the concentration of manufacturing in Ontario and Quebec.18 Stagnation in the region, in other words, was not inevitable and it is not beyond correction. The accepted interpretation of Newfoundland's economic development is radically different from that of the Maritimes, for no one has argued that Newfoundland became relatively poorer or less developed, and few have been so bold as to suggest that it had any assured prospects. The first thorough enquiry into the country's economic state and prospects came with the Amulree commission in 1933, which recommended the country be closed down.19 At the end of World War n, the volume of studies by MacKay was generally gloomy about the country's past and future, and a more powerful, unpublished work by Mayo saw little prospect for Newfoundland either as a province of Canada or as an independent country.20 For a long time such pessimism was submerged by the ebullience of the province's first premier, activity in the new resource frontier in Labrador, and the general prosperity which swept the western world in the 19508 and 19605. But underneath the new optimism was the serious problem of a huge, decaying fishing industry and its dependent rural population. When this issue re-emerged in the mid 19605 a bitter and still unresolved debate ensued between those who recommended a planned reduction of the island's population, and those who fought for a revitalized rural fishing economy.21 While the relatively late development of the province's university has meant that historical work on Newfoundland's economic development is only in its infancy, what exists has not confirmed the argument that the province was or is hopelessly unproductive.22 Indeed, the economist Gordon Goundrey has noted that the proportion of Gross Provincial Product arising in the goods-producing sectors in Newfoundland exceeds that for Canada as a whole.23

201 Economic growth in the Atlantic region Although identification of the turning-point is still uncertain, it is agreed that by 1940 the Maritimes' economy had declined in size relative to Canada's. But what was its position compared with Newfoundland's? Population and labour force growth is a crude and sometimes misleading index of economic expansion but a useful beginning to analysis. From the mid-nineteenth to the mid-twentieth century population growth was highest in the territories of overseas settlement., such as Australia, the United States, and Canada, all of which recorded rates of growth of over 19 per cent per decade.24 Between 1871 and 1941 the Canadian rate of growth was 1.64 per cent per annum. In the Maritimes it was only 0.55 per cent, compared with I per cent in Newfoundland between 1869 and 1935. The Maritimes' share of the national population fell by 50 per cent, compared with 25 per cent in Ontario and 9 per cent in Quebec.25 In the United States, where a comparable westward shift took place, there was not an equivalent imbalance of regional population growth. Between 1860 and 1950, the northeast share of population declined by 22 per cent and the south by only 12 per cent.26 The labour force in the Maritimes also fell during this period, from 18 per cent of the Canadian in 1891 to 9 per cent in 1941. Between 1891 and 1911 the Maritime labour force grew by only 0.3 per cent compared with a rate five times greater in Ontario and Quebec, and in 1911-41 the absolute and relative performance was no better. In international perspective the Maritimes was also a poor performer; between 1913 and 1938 small countries like Denmark, the Netherlands, Norway, and Sweden increased the size of their labour force by 27 to 49 per cent compared with less than 14 per cent in the Maritimes, which ranked with larger, troubled countries like Belgium (4 per cent), Italy (9 per cent), and France (-11 per cent).27 In Newfoundland, however, the labour force actually grew faster between 1891 and 1911 (1.9 per cent per annum) than in Ontario and Quebec, and between 1911 and 1941 at a rate close to that of Ontario.28 Although Newfoundland's population and labour force grew substantially faster than those of the Maritimes, this is not unequivocal evidence of a more satisfactory economic performance. The utilization of the labour force on the island is almost impossible to measure, and there were also more formidable barriers to emigration. The faster growth might indicate nothing more than an increasingly impoverished population, both absolutely and relatively. If this were so, it should be revealed in the structural stagnation of the labour force.

202 David Alexander TABLE i Labour force distribution (in percentages)

Canada Maritimes Nova Scotia New Brunswick Prince Edward Island Newfoundland Ontario Quebec

Primary

Industry

Services

1901 1941 Change

1901 1941 Change

1901 1941 Change

42

27 31

~*5

47

-16

31 28

32 31

I 3

27 25

41 38

14 13

44 47

25 31

-19 -16

30 29

35 3i

5 2

26 24

40 38

H H

67 65 41 39

59 33 19

-8 -32

22

-17

15 26 32 34

30 37 37

-3 4 5 3

18 9 27 27

29 37 44 41

II 28 17 14

-22

12

SOURCE: Canada, Census, 1941; Newfoundland and Labrador, Census, 1935; and Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Province of Newfoundland: statistical background (Ottawa 1949), table 81. NOTE: Industry includes logging, mining, manufacturing, construction, and unspecified labourers. Services include all professional and personal service employment, trade, finance, clerical, public service, transport, and communications. Primary, therefore, includes only agriculture, fishing, and trapping. The terminal date for Newfoundland is 1945. For 1901 in Newfoundland, 10 per cent of those enumerated as 'otherwise employed' are assumed to be in transport and communications (the 1935 share) and are allocated to services. All calculations omit those without stated occupations.

In 1901, as table I reveals, the distribution of labour force in the Maritimes was much more concentrated in agriculture and fisheries than was the case in Quebec and Ontario, with relative under-representation concentrated more in the industry than the services sector. Between 1901 and 1941 the reallocation of labour from primary industries proceeded rapidly in Ontario but at about the same rate in the Maritimes and Quebec. Quebec had the most 'modern3 distribution in 1901, but this mantle had passed to Ontario by 1941. The most dramatic labour force shifts, however, occurred in Newfoundland. While labour force allocation to the industrial sector in 1901 was not massively below that of the two large Maritime provinces, service sector employment was strikingly under-represented. Between 1901 and 1945 there was a major shift of labour out of primary activities, a growth in indus-

203 Economic growth in the Atlantic region TABLE 2 Labour force location quotients Maritimes

Agriculture Fishing Logging Mining Manufacturing Construction Transport Trade and finance Professional Clerical

Newfoundland

1911

1941

0:97 10:17 1:50 2:66 0:66 0:80 1:03 0:78 0:96 0:75

1:30 2:26 2:14 2:58 0:52 0:93 1:13 0:86 1:19 0:62

1911

1945

[16:40

13:90!

2:17 1:32 0:50 0:20 1:03 1:40

2:89 1:07 0:33 1:03 0:99 0:80 1:36 0:54

SOURCE: Canada, Census, 1941; Newfoundland and Labrador, Census, 1935 and 1945. NOTE: The location quotient is LQ = (s i /s)/(R i /R) where, S; is the number in industry T in the region, s the number in industry 'i' in the 'nation,' R; the number in the regional labour force, and R the number in the 'national' labour force. The 'nation' includes Newfoundland, the Maritimes, Quebec, and Ontario.

try employment equivalent to that on the mainland., and a massive gain in service employment. This latter phenomenon reflected the expansion of the transport and communications system on the island, as well as the rapid development (from a rather backward starting point) of modern educational, health, and public service facilities. A three-sector analysis of labour force distribution is, of course, a blunt instrument of analysis. Table 2 calculates labour force location quotients for a more detailed breakdown, wherein a value in excess of 1:00 indicates a specialization greater than would be expected given the region's share of the total labour force.29 In this case the regions are the Maritimes and Newfoundland while the 'nation' includes these and central Canada.30 In 1911 the Maritimes had a roughly balanced share of employment in agriculture, transportation, and professional services. Not surprisingly, it had a disproportionately large share of fishing employment and a less dramatically large share of logging and mining employment. On the other hand, it was underrepresented in manufacturing employment and in construction, which may

204 David Alexander TABLE 3 Gross value of production: Newfoundland ($000 1935-9)

1884 1891 1901 1911 1921

1929 1939

Agriculture

Forestry

Mining

1,245

214 447 755 1,396 3,386 14,581 14,928

761 935 1,513 i,93i 446 3,003 8,903

1,693

3,383 5,368

6,116 6,318 7,980

Fishing

Manufacturing

9,456

2,520

9,220

2,175

12,242 13,119

3,3H 3,982

Total 14,196 14,470 21,204

Per capita 72 72 96 1 06

7,846

4,320

25,796 22,114

12,867

6,711

43,480

84 I56

6,869

9,596

48,276

160

NOTE: Agricultural output from 1891 to 1921 was derived from G.B., Department of Overseas Trade, Industries and resources of Newfoundland for 1925 (London 1926), 14. These estimates include the value of the animal stock, which in 1921 was about 40 per cent of the value of field crops and animal products. Census returns indicate the ratio of animals to field crop production was relatively constant, and hence the Department of Trade estimates for 1891 to 1921 have been deflated accordingly. Output in 1884 is estimated by the value of output in 1891 weighted by the relative physical productivity of field crops in the two years. For 1929 the estimate is the 1935 field crop output plus the 1921 animal products ratio. For 1939 as given in Newfoundland Industrial Development Board, Industrial survey, i: 92. All other sector estimates are derived from Newfoundland, Journals of the House of Assembly., Customs returns, and the Census of Newfoundland and Labrador, 1884, 1891, 1901, 1911, 1921, and 1935; and for 1939 as estimated in Industrial Development Board, Industrial Survey, i: 92. The forestry sector includes only lumbering and pulp and paper. The manufacturing sector is net of pulp and paper. The fishing sector includes an estimate for domestic consumption. All estimates are deflated by the General Wholesale Price Index for Canada in Urquhart and Buckley, eds, Historical statistics of Canada, series 134, and for mining 135.

be taken as an index of fixed capital investment, and trade and financial activity, which may be an index of entrepreneurial activity. Between 1911 and 1941 the disproportionate concentration in fishing was modified, but otherwise the heavy specialization in primary activities solidified, and the manufacturing ratio deteriorated. The disproportionate share of professional employment reflects the large educational and health establishment relative to the labour force which remained in the region, and perhaps the tendency for the region's middle class to concentrate in socially prestigious professions when entrepreneurial opportunities were poor. In Newfoundland, the fragi-

205 Economic growth in the Atlantic region TABLE 4 Gross value of production: Maritimes ($000 1935-9) Agriculture

1880 1890

41,956 40,222

Forestry 13,297 16,194

1900

58,763

17,199 26,619

1920

71,447 81,283 87,726

1910

1929 1939

77,241

22,317

21,160

30,164

Mining

Fishing

Manufacturing

3,115

14,918

42,626

115,912 113 149,971 170

85,915

222,291 237 236,660 237 258,517 259 277,658 252

15,465 14,424 20,253 18,683 19,627 18,235 9,183 6,112

26,301

31,198

14,976

14,935

71,978 56,414

105,642 108,354

124,120

Total

167,053

Per capita

187

NOTE: Agricultural output, 1900-39, from Canada year book, 1914, table 9; 1924, 203-4; 1934-5, 254-5; 1941, 152-3. For 1880 and 1890, OJ. Firestone, Canada's economic development (London 1958), table 69, p.193, estimate of Canadian agricultural gross value of production. For Maritimes' share, the Maritimes' share of occupied farms in Canada weighted by the relative productivity in 1900 as estimated from Canada year book, 1914, table 9. Forestry sector includes lumber and pulp and paper, from Canada, The Maritime provinces since confederation (Ottawa 1927), 60-1, and Canada, The Maritime provinces in their relation to the national economy of Canada (Ottawa 1948), 68—9, 73. Mining is from Maritime provinces in their relation, table 30, pp.85—8. Fisheries is marketed value from Maritime provinces in relation, table 13, p.58. Manufacturing is net of lumber and pulp and paper as calculated from Maritime provinces in relation, table 36, pp-98-ioo. All estimates are deflated by the General Wholesale Price Index for Canada in Urquhart and Buckley, eds, Historical statistics of Canada, series 134, and for mining 135.

lity of the 1911 census invites caution in comparison, although the data do suggest an equivalent structural development to the Maritimes. By the 19405 both sub-regions of the 'nation' were well established as producers and transporters of primary products, and dependent upon the central subregion for finished goods and entrepreneurial and associated labour force activity. Since population and labour force data are inconclusive indices of relative economic growth, it is essential to compare output data. The difficulty here is that no compatible set of output statistics exists. For the Maritimes, the most satisfactory are Alan Green's Gross Value Added (GVA) series for 1890, 1910, 1929, and 1956. No comparable series exists for Newfoundland, and

206 David Alexander TABLE 5 Gross value of production: Canada ($000 1935-9)

1880 1890

Agriculture

Forestry

Mining

Fishing

369,080

45,96o 76,900 88,225 101,565 218,300 313,780 311,400

14,125 26,290 97,805 123,150 103,230 220,385 441,210

20,195 26,400 34,550 28,170

1910

456,035 647,435 924,840

1929 1939

739,175 1,309,055 1,182,770

1900 1920

24,235 38,365 40,480

Manufacturing 385,345 623,205 682,700 1,383,760 1,605,790 2,802,960 3,198,485

Total 385,345 1,208,830 1,550,715 2,561,485 2,690,730 4,684,545 5,174,345

Per capita

192 250 289 355 306 467 459

NOTE: For the forestry sector, sawmilling, pulp and paper production estimated as 60 per cent of 'wood products' in Firestone, Canada's economic development, table 78, p.213. For 1900 and 1910, Canada year book, 1924, 293-4, 296. For 1920-39, Maritime provinces in their relation, tables 20 and 24, pp.69, 74. Agricultural output 1880-1920 as in Firestone, Canada's economic development, table 69, p.193- For 1929 and 1939, farm output as in Canada year book, 1934-5, 254-5; and 1941, 152-3. Mining for the period 1880-90 as in Canada year book, 1941, xiv-xvi plus coal. For the period 1900-39, all metallic and nonmetallic production (excluding cement) as in Urquhart and Buckley, eds. Historical statistics of Canada, series Ni-26, N89~ii9, NI70. Manufacturing is net of lumber and pulp and paper, as derived from Maritime provinces in their relation., table 36, p.ioo. Fisheries as in Maritime provinces in their relation, table 13, P-58. All estimates deflated by the General Wholesale Price Index for Canada in Historical statistics, series 134, and for mining 135.

the prospects for creating one are doubtful. The only recent estimate of output is a limited three-sector Gross Value of Production (GVP) series prepared by the Royal Commission on the Economic State and Prospects of Newfoundland and Labrador, for various years between 1891 and 1948.3I Therefore, in order to compare Newfoundland and Maritimes development it is necessary to create a new set of indices. Tables 3 to 5 provide a GVP series in five goods-producing sectors for Newfoundland, the Maritimes, and Canada, using published Dominion Bureau of Statistics' estimates for the mainland, and a wider variety of sources for the island.32 Tables 6 and 7 attempt to compare real output growth rates and sectoral contributions to real output growth for the three economies.

207 Economic growth in the Atlantic region TABLE 6 Real output growth rates (percentage per annum)

Newfoundland 1884-1911 1911-1939 1884-1939

Agriculture

Forestry

Mining

Fishing

5.6 1.4 34

7.2

3-5 5-7 4-5

-2-3

Maritimes 1880-1910 1910-1939 1880-1939

1.8 0.3

Canada 1880-1910 1910-1939 1880-1939

3-1 0.8

I.O

2.0

8.9

8.0

1.2

1-7 3-2

-0.6

2.4 2.3

0.4 1.4

6.1 1.8 4.0

0.9 -0.9

2-7 3-9 3-3

74 44 6.0

I.I

2-3

Manufacturing

0.0

1.2 1.2

Total

Per capita

2.2

14

2-3 2.2

i-5 14

2.2

1-9

i-3 1.8

0.8

0.2

i-5

I.I

4-3 2-9 3-7

3.8 2.4 3-2

0.9

2.0

i-5

NOTE: Calculated from tables 3 to 5. All calculated rates are compound rates per annum and not fitted trends.

There are a number of limitations surrounding the use of these data. It proved impossible to create long-term estimates of output in construction, electric power, transportation, and the service industries. The assumption, none the less, is that this more limited series will serve as a proxy of the comparative rate of growth of the three economies, and that there is no serious distortion of the progress of one against the others.33 Secondly, since the estimates are of GVP rather than GVA, the absolute values must be used with caution as indicators of comparative productivity and well-being.34 Thirdly, the series have been deflated by the General Wholesale Price Index to estimate the value of real output growth. While the use of sectoral deflators would more accurately estimate real GVP in Canada and the Maritimes, whether this would also be true for Newfoundland is less certain. It is true that the island's growing dependence on Canada and the competitive nature of much of its output, suggests that Canadian sectoral deflators would be appropriate. But on crude data, a crude deflator seemed less risky than a finer one. Finally, the early i88os was chosen as the initial date because of

2o8 David Alexander TABLE 7 Sectoral contributions to real output growth (percentage)

Agriculture

Forestry

Newfoundland 1884-1911 1911-1939 1911-1939 (exld fish)

35-5 11.6 9-i

10.2

10. 1

60.2

31.0 24-3

Maritimes 1880-1910 1910-1939 1910-1939 (exld fish)

27.7 10.5 9.6

I2. 5

14.6

6-4 5-9

22.6

32.2

3.2 8.0

Canada 1880-1910 1910-1939

9-9

47-1

Mining

Fishing

31.6 -27.8

6-3

12.6 25.0 19.5

44 -8.5

40.7 69.0 63.6

0.5 0.5

57-8 69.5

20.8

12.2

Manufacturing

NOTE: Calculated from tables 3 to 5.

data limitations before that decade. The terminal year of 1939 was adopted because the war had powerful stimulative effects on both Newfoundland and the Maritimes which inflate the historic growth performance prior to Newfoundland's entry into confederation. For any of the economies it may be argued that some other date would be more appropriate than the one chosen. This objection is insurmountable unless one has annual estimates of output, or some other index of trade cycle behaviour. In their absence, and given the close relationship among the three economies, the decision was made to measure at common dates. The value of any decennial comparison is doubtful; but the approach should not seriously compromise conclusions drawn from growth rate calculations of over sixty years, or even for periods of thirty years. What were the sectoral and aggregate growth patterns in these three economies? It is logical to begin with agricultural production, where Newfoundland has always been comparatively weak. In 1880 agricultural output represented 44 per cent of goods production (excluding construction) in Canada, 36 per cent in the Maritimes and only 9 per cent in Newfound-

209 Economic growth in the Atlantic region land.35 By 1939 the relative contribution of agriculture to output had declined by 48 per cent in Canada but only 22 per cent in the Maritimes. In Newfoundland, however, the government launched a major initiative at the turn of the century to stimulate food production and, despite the climate and soil conditions, output expanded under the watchful eyes of a myriad of local agricultural societies and a newly established department of agriculture from 9 per cent of goods production in 1884 to 21 per cent in 1910. In subsequent decades the relative share fell as other sectors of the economy expanded rapidly, but in 1939 agricultural output still accounted for a respectable 17 per cent of goods production. From the i88os into the inter-war period, the number of people employed in the farm sector of the Maritimes declined, from 140,000 in 1880 to 96,000 in 1941, or from 18 per cent of the population to 8 per cent. In Newfoundland the full-time agriculturalist was a rarity, but the absolute number of full-time farmers rose from 1,500 in 1891 to 4,200 by 1935. While this represented only 1.5 per cent of the population, the bulk of the country's 35,000 fishermen were also subsistence farmers. In Canada, employment in agriculture rose from 662,000 i n i 8 8 i ( i 5 per cent of population) to over one million by 1921, after which it stabilized to 1941, representing 9 per cent of the population. Thus, over the period the relative commitment of population to agriculture was about the same in the Maritimes as in Canada, but the numbers shrank in the former while they rose in the latter into the inter-war period. The number of occupied farms in the Maritimes rose from 78,000 to 113,000 in 1891, after which the number declined steadily. In Canada, because of western settlement, farm numbers increased until 1931, but neither Quebec nor Ontario had significantly more farms at the end of the inter-war period than they had after confederation. Yet, while the trends were the same in the Maritimes and in central Canada, the decline in occupied farms in the Maritimes between 1891 and 1941 was 45 per cent compared with only 17 per cent in Ontario and 12 per cent in Quebec. Nor was this relatively greater loss of farms in the Maritimes compensated by growth in average farm size. Improved acreage per farm was 36 acres in 1871 compared with 48 acres in Quebec and 51 acres in Ontario. By 1941 there was no significant change in the acreage of the average Maritime farm, but the Quebec farm was by then two-thirds larger and the Ontario farm was twice as large.36 Compared with western Europe, the average Maritime farm was

210 David Alexander not especially small; in England in the 19305 improved acreage per farm was 51 acres, in Denmark 39, Germany and France 21, and in Sweden 18 acres.37 But European farmers in this period were not very prosperous, and compared with the Maritime farmer they had access to large urban markets and better opportunities for exploiting possibilities of 'high farming.' Newfoundland farm output grew by over six times - from an insignificant base of $1.2 million in 1884 to only $8 million in 1939. The fastest rate of growth was secured in the 1884-1911 period at 5.6 per cent per annum, and this accounted for some 35 per cent of the real growth in output for the economy. Clearly, there were important dividends gained from the agricultural program introduced during these years, as well as from the opening of the west coast of the island and improved transport links to the urban markets. In the 1911-39 period, however, the growth rate fell back to 1.4 per cent per annum, which reflected both the strong relative growth of other sectors of the economy and the real limits to output imposed by natural conditions and the small urban market. The Maritime output of $42 million in 1880 and $77 million in 1930 was obviously huge compared with Newfoundland, but the growth performance of the sector was relatively weak. In the period 1880-1910 output grew at 1.8 per cent per annum and in 1910-39 at only 0.3 per cent, compared with 3.1 per cent and 0.9 per cent for Canada. In the period when the west was opened, it is understandable that Canadian growth should be higher than in a long-established region like the Maritimes. And while a growth rate of only 0.3 per cent in 1911-39 might appear dismal, it was no worse than the performance of Quebec and Ontario combined.38 Moreover, through rural depopulation in the 19208, Maritime farm efficiency drew close to that of Quebec/Ontario. In 1910 real output per acre in the Maritimes was about $21 compared with $28 in Quebec/Ontario; by 1939 this had narrowed to $24 compared with $26.39 The difference in the two farming regions came from the larger average farm size up the St Lawrence, for in 1939 output per farm was $1,726 in Quebec/Ontario and $1,465 in the Maritimes. But if a comparison is made with Ontario alone, the disparities widen. For example, the value of output per head of population in 1939 was $68 in the Maritimes, $62 in Quebec, and $100 in Ontario. None the less, Maritime farming was not a notably deficient sector of the economy, since it grew at a rate comparable to Quebec/Ontario (although not Ontario alone, with its urban market advantages) and the contribution of the sector to the growth of total output

2ii Economic growth in the Atlantic region was comparable to that for the Canadian economy. If one is searching for explanations of Maritime economic problems in the period, enquiry into the farm sector will not yield large dividends. In Newfoundland's case, there were greater opportunities for gains in output and productivity given the very low initial base. Clearly, some of these gains were being harvested, since output expanded throughout the period at a higher rate than in either the Maritimes or Canada. Rather than the agricultural sector, difficulties in the forest industry are more obviously important in explaining sluggish growth in the Maritimes. Towards the end of the century the Maritime lumber industry entered a long period of depression as a result of demand shifts and supply competition. While pulp mills were established in the region in the 18908, it was not until the late 19208 that newsprint mills were built. In 1911 pulp production represented only 7 per cent of lumber output, rising to 55 per cent by 1926. In the 19308 expanding pulp and paper output overtook the badly depressed lumber sector. The lumber industry in the Maritimes contracted sharply in the inter-war period under the impact of less competitive wood supplies and trade protectionism, and the recovery which emerged in the second half of the 19308 was weaker than in Canada as a whole. In the 19205 the real capital/labour ratio was comparable to the national level, but the output/labour ratio was 20 per cent to 30 per cent lower.40 In the 19308 the position of both ratios moved sharply against the Maritimes relative to Canada. The efficiency of capital employment (as measured by the output/capital ratio) was also substantially lower in the Maritimes in the 19205, although it improved in the 19308. The pulp and paper industry compensated for some of the problems in the lumber sector, but here too output growth was slower than in Canada, as the mills were generally smaller and less efficient.41 These troubles were reflected in the comparative growth rates. Over the period 1880-1939 real output expanded at 1.4 per cent compared with 3.3 per cent for Canada. In the sub-period 1880-1910 the relative performance was more satisfactory (2.3 and 2.7 per cent) and it was really in the 1910-39 period that the Maritimes' industry stood virtually still compared with Canada (0.4 and 3.9 per cent). Accordingly, while the forest sector accounted for some 6 per cent of total output growth in the Maritimes, it contributed some 8 per cent to the faster growing Canadian economy. Newfoundland did not possess the kind of forest resources which allowed

212 David Alexander the Maritimes to develop a large lumbering industry at an early stage in its history. In 1873 the country imported over $76,000 of lumber and other forest products against exports of only $7,100.42 Expansion was rapid in subsequent years, however, and by 1901 (before the establishment of pulp and paper) the lumbering labour force had grown from 450 to 1,400, and by 1911 Newfoundland earned a surplus on non-pulp and paper trade of $63,500.43 Depressed markets for lumber in the inter-war period, however, meant that the mills were forced back into dependence upon domestic consumption. Most of these mills were small, two-man, part-time operations; though there were a handful of large mills each employing several hundred, the 534 licensed mills in 1929 only produced some $400,000 of lumber, compared with $15.5 million in the 650 Maritime mills.44 In 1938 lumber output was still only $450,000 and at the end of the inter-war period net imports of lumber were about 20 per cent of the value of domestic output.45 The transformation of Newfoundland's forest industry came with the establishment of pulp and paper capacity. The big newsprint mill that was opened at Grand Falls in 1910 produced $1.2 million of products compared with $1.5 million in the twelve Maritime pulp mills, and with the addition of the Corner Brook mill in 1925 Newfoundland's output equalled that of the Maritimes. In 1938 the two Newfoundland mills employed only 70 per cent as many employees as Maritime mills, but paid out in wages and salaries 90 per cent of the compensation paid in the latter. The average Newfoundland wage was 27 per cent higher than in the Maritimes and 21 per cent higher than in Canada, and this high wage characteristic has persisted to the present.46 It was for no idle reason that a good job in Newfoundland was known as a 'Grand Falls job.' The expansion of output for the domestic lumber market, the large packaging industry for the fishery, and the spectacular growth of pulp and newsprint in the twentieth century were reflected in the industry growth rate for Newfoundland. Beginning from a low base, the sector grew at a rate of 7.6 per cent per annum to 1901 (prior to the first newsprint mill) and by 8.9 per cent in the 1911-39 period. The sector accounted for nearly half of nonfisheries goods production growth in the period and nearly a third of the value of measured goods production by 1939. Even though the industry was foreign owned and purchased substantial inputs from outside Newfoundland, in 1935 wages paid in logging and paper manufacturing probably accounted

213 Economic growth in the Atlantic region for up to 25 per cent of earnings in the economy.47 In 1880 forest products accounted for only 1.5 per cent of goods production in Newfoundland compared to 5.5 per cent in Canada and n per cent in the Maritimes. In subsequent decades, the relative importance of the sector in the Maritimes was unchanged, while it rose modestly to 6 per cent in Canada, and rose enormously in Newfoundland to 5.4 per cent in 1910 and 31 per cent in 1939. The sector offered a major net addition to output in Newfoundland, whereas in the Maritimes pulp and paper mainly offset the decline of the lumber industry. The mining industry, because of its instability and harsh working conditions, has had a greater social and economic impact on the Atlantic region than is reflected in its contribution to output. In 1880 mining contributed 5 per cent of goods production in Newfoundland, 3 per cent in the Maritimes and 2 per cent in Canada; by 1939 these shares had risen to 18, n, and 9 per cent respectively. Nova Scotia dominated mining in the Maritimes with gold, gypsum, and coal. It was the latter, of course, which gave Nova Scotia its prominence, and coal production was never less than 80 per cent of total mineral output. In the i88os and 18905 Maritime mineral output was close to 25 per cent of the Canadian total, but with expansion in northern Quebec and Ontario, Alberta, and British Columbia, this share fell to 15 per cent in the period 1900-10 and to 7 per cent by 1941. It is less well known that Newfoundland was an important mineral producer by the last quarter of the nineteenth century. The Notre Dame Bay copper mines, opened in 1864 and operated until 1917, made the country the fourteenth largest copper producer in the world.48 This was followed by the opening of the Bell Island iron mines in 1895, which soon accounted for some two-thirds of mineral exports. This had fallen to around 40 per cent by the end of the 19308, reflecting both uncertain markets for iron ore, and the opening of the base metal mines at Buchans in 1928 and the fluorspar mine at St Lawrence in 1933. In the 1880-1910 period, world output of the major metallic, non-metallic, and mineral fuels was growing at 4.5 per cent per annum.49 Expansion in Canada (7.5 per cent) and the Maritimes (6.1 per cent) was substantially in excess of world growth, but it was lower in Newfoundland (3.5 per cent). In the 1910-39 period, however, while world output expansion fell to 2.3 per cent, the Canadian rate remained substantially higher (4.4 per cent). In the Maritimes, the coal industry confronted growing competition from the

214 David Alexander United States as well as the post-war shift to alternative fuels, and this, combined with the absence of major new mining developments, yielded a comparatively slow rate of growth (1.8 per cent). In Newfoundland, on the other hand, the new ventures opened in the inter-war years, combined with the high productivity of the Wabana iron fields, generated a growth rate (5.7 per cent) substantially above both world and Canadian levels. Mineral output per head was normally substantially higher in the Maritimes than in Canada until the inter-war period. It was then that the relatively poor growth performance began to tell, and by 1941 output was about $26 per person in the Maritimes compared with about $40 for Canada. Until the 19308 Newfoundland's output per head was substantially lower than in either Canada or the Maritimes, but with output of some $22 per head in 1941 the country was pointed towards its post-war stature as the major mining centre of the Atlantic region. In Canada the growth of mining output contributed some 12 per cent to total growth of goods production, but in the Atlantic region it was much more important at 20 per cent and 24 per cent in the Maritimes and Newfoundland. While Newfoundland's growth rate substantially exceeded that of the Maritimes and Canada in the 1911-39 period, the expansion of the industry did not generate the same local benefits as noted with the forest products sector. Though the sector accounted for 18 per cent of goods production in Newfoundland in 1939, it accounted for less than 5 per cent of total earnings in 1935.5° The major structural difference between Newfoundland and the Maritimes is revealed in the relative dependence of the two economies on the fishing industry. In 1884 some 67 per cent of goods production in Newfoundland was accounted for by fish products, compared with only 13 per cent in the Maritimes and 2 per cent in Canada. If fishing and agriculture are combined, the difference in relative dependence on primary activities is narrowed (75 per cent in Newfoundland and 50 per cent in the Maritimes) but remains striking, and emphasizes the vulnerability of Newfoundland's dependence upon a one-product, export economy. By 1910 the fishery contribution to output had fallen to 51 per cent in Newfoundland and 9 per cent in the Maritimes, and by 1939 (reflecting the inter-war depression in the industry) only 14 per cent and 5 per cent respectively. By that time the Maritimes were relatively more dependent upon fisheries and agriculture than Newfoundland (33 per cent compared with 31 per cent), although that also reflected the comparative poverty of arable food production on the island.

215 Economic growth in the Atlantic region Large and old industries, like the Atlantic fishery, are often characterized by relatively low rates of growth. In Newfoundland in the period 1884-1911 fisheries output grew by only 1.2 per cent and in the Maritimes at less than I per cent per annum. It was in the period 1910-39, however, that the industry was overwhelmed by troubles. In Newfoundland real output growth contracted at a rate of -2.3 per cent and in the Maritimes at almost -1 per cent per annum. The industry was extraordinarily dependent upon international trade, and returns to production factors were especially sensitive to the host of inter-war disturbances, including the post-war inflation, rising protectionism, the depression, and the collapse of the multilateral payments system in the 19308. Compounding these external problems was a highly conservative and defeatist approach to potential changes in product, catching, and marketing on the part of industry and government.51 The less bad performance of the Maritimes reflected its greater product diversification and its access to the United States market; Newfoundland was much more dependent upon saltfish and the highly competitive and disturbed European markets. Given the unusual importance of the Industry to the Newfoundland labour force, and hence to the revenues of the government, its virtual collapse in the inter-war period seriously compromised the gains that were won from expansion of other sectors of the economy. Thus, while in the Maritimes fisheries contraction was -8.5 per cent of total output growth, in Newfoundland it was -27.8 per cent over the 1911-39 period. Economic policy in Newfoundland consistently focused upon developing and expanding resource sectors. In the Maritimes there were much greater expectations for manufacturing. The contribution of manufacturing (excluding lumber and pulp and paper throughout this discussion) to the three economies in 1880 ranged from a low of 18 per cent of goods production in Newfoundland to 37 per cent in the Maritimes and 46 per cent in Canada. By 1939 this had risen only to 20 per cent in Newfoundland, but it was now 45 per cent in the Maritimes and 62 per cent in Canada. Relative to Canada, therefore, the contribution of manufacturing to total output had declined over the period in both Newfoundland and the Maritimes. In 1880 current dollars, manufacturing gross value was $40 per capita in the Maritimes, $60 in Canada, and only $10 in Newfoundland. By 1890 the Maritimes relative position improved from 63 per cent of the Canadian level to 68 per cent, with a per capita production of $67. Much of this output consisted of unsophisticated raw material processing and small shop output

216 David Alexander (as it did everywhere at this time); none the less, the Maritimes and Canada ranked favourably with other countries in the world. Although such comparisons are fraught with difficulties, the order of achievement is suggested by an 1888 output per head (in $u.s.) of Si 17 in the United Kingdom, $65 in France and Germany, $50 in Sweden and the Netherlands, and as little as $25 in Italy and Spain.52 Although there are special difficulties with the Newfoundland data which lead to underestimation of finished goods production, clearly it was not a significant manufacturer by any standard.53 By 1937 the Maritimes' relative position had changed dramatically. Per capita output in that year was $140, compared with $80 in Newfoundland, and $330 in Canada. Between 1890 and 1937, therefore, the Maritimes' position relative to Canada's had fallen from 68 to 42 per cent, and it had even deteriorated against Newfoundland. In the United Kingdom in 1935 output per head was $290, in Germany $285, and in Italy about $ii5. 54 If basic iron and steel manufacturing is removed from the Maritime data, then the output per head falls to $95, which is not substantially in advance of the Newfoundland level. Between 1880 and 1910 real manufacturing output grew at 2.3 per cent per annum in the Maritimes compared with 4.3 per cent in Canada.55 In the i88os the Maritimes' growth rate was probably higher than Canada's (around 5.4 per cent compared with 4.9 per cent), but it fell below the Canadian performance in the 18905 and substantially so in the 1900-10 period (4.3 and 7.3 per cent). Manufacturing's contribution to total output growth was only 41 per cent in the Maritimes compared with 58 per cent in Canada. In the 1910-39 period, the Maritimes' real output grew at a much lower rate than before the war, and at only half the Canadian rate (1.3 and 2.9 per cent). The 19208 were especially bad years for the Maritimes, with a growth of only 0.3 per cent compared with 6.1 per cent in Canada. Still, in the badly depressed inter-war economy of the Maritimes, this slowgrowing manufacturing sector still accounted for 69 per cent of total output growth, which was almost the same as in Canada. It is well established that Maritimes' manufacturing stagnated after the war. Though not equal to Canada at confederation, manufacturing in the Maritimes was relatively strong both nationally and internationally. Except in the i88os, however, non-forest products manufacturing grew much more slowly than in Canada and the world, leaving the region more backward by the end of the inter-war period than it had been in the last quarter of the nineteenth century. Newfoundland had no significant manufacturing capa-

21 j Economic growth in the Atlantic region city in the i88os, and despite tariff barriers that came to exceed Canadian levels, it did not have a large per capita output by 1939. Nonetheless, in the 1910-39 period, the country achieved a rate of growth of non-forest products manufacturing equal to that of Canada, and by 1947 domestic production of manufactures accounted for 25 per cent of domestic consumption.56 With the removal of the tariff barriers in 1949 much of this capacity was wiped out, but in a few product lines local firms were able to meet the competition and even export to the mainland. Thus, even in Newfoundland it was possible for efficient secondary manufacturing to locate and produce for the national market. This review of growth in five key sectors of the Atlantic economy now allows for a general answer to the first question posed at the beginning of this paper: how did Newfoundland's economic growth compare with the Maritimes in the decades prior to its union with Canada? A succinct answer is possible. In both 1880 and 1911, goods production in Newfoundland was about 12 per cent of the Maritimes level, but by 1939 it had increased to about 20 per cent. Relative to Canada, the Maritimes accounted for 14 per cent of goods production in 1880, only 9 per cent in 1911, and 5 per cent by 1939. The Maritimes economy, therefore, shrank relative to both Newfoundland and Canada. Behind these trends in relative size lie the growth rates for goods production in the three economies. In the 1880-1910 period Newfoundland and the Maritimes grew at the same rate (2.2 per cent), which was 50 per cent less than the growth rate in Canada (3.8 per cent). Angus Maddison has estimated the growth of Gross Domestic Product (GDP) in twelve European and North American economies for the period 1870-1913 to average 2.7 per cent per annum, ranging between 1.4 per cent for Italy and 4.3 per cent for the u.s.57 If our estimates of goods production parallel that of GDP, then the results suggest a pace of development in the Atlantic region more akin to that of the large and developed economies of western Europe than the North American territories of settlement.58 In the 1910-39 period, growth everywhere in the world was slower than in the preceding decades. For example, total output in Denmark, Sweden, and the Netherlands expanded by some 2.2 per cent per annum and in Norway at a somewhat faster rate of 2.8 per cent.59 In Canada and Newfoundland, goods production expanded by 2.4 per cent per annum, a rate three times greater than that achieved in the Maritimes.60 Although the Canadian rate

218 David Alexander was equalled by Newfoundland, on a per capita basis Newfoundland was consistently the least productive of the three economies. In 1884 with $72 per capita of goods production, it stood at only 54 per cent of the Maritimes and 40 per cent of Canada. By 1910 its position relative to the Maritimes had fallen to 45 per cent and relative to Canada to 34 per cent. But the industrial developments of the 1910-39 period reversed this trend, and in 1939 Newfoundland's per capita output relative to the Maritimes had improved sharply to 64 per cent. Still, with goods production in 1939 of only $160 compared with $460 in Canada, it is obvious that the island was extremely vulnerable to the kind of trade and financial crisis which overwhelmed it in the 19308. In terms of growth performance, it is also apparent that Newfoundland was developing from its low initial base at a more satisfactory pace than the Maritimes secured from its stronger initial position. Both communities were growing at a per capita rate on the level of Maddison's twelve countries in the period 1870-1913. But between 1910 and 1939 per capita growth in Newfoundland was higher than in Canada (1.5 per cent and 0.9 per cent), while in the Maritimes there was little real per capita growth in the goods producing sector (0.2 per cent). The sectoral contributions to aggregate growth in the Newfoundland economy were characterized by a major shift after the turn of the century. In the period 1884-1911 a third of the growth of output was gained in the agricultural sector, another third in fisheries, and the remainder was spread relatively evenly across forestry, mining, and manufacturing. Agricultural contributions to growth were only slightly less important to the Maritimes and Canada, but the major sectoral contributions for both came from manufacturing. In the Maritimes, however, manufacturing provided only 40 per cent of the contribution to total output that it did in Canada, with forestry, mining, and fishing contributing much larger shares. In the 1911-39 period, negative growth in the fisheries was a major drag on output growth in Newfoundland, as it was in the Maritimes. Almost half of positive contributions to Newfoundland output were accounted for by the lumber and paper industry, and another quarter by mining. The relative contribution of manufacturing fell in this period, and the gains from the agricultural sector were modest. In the Maritimes and Canada, both agriculture and forestry were minor contributors to output growth, as was mining for Canada. Manufacturing in Canada, however, contributed over two-thirds of the growth in the period, whereas it added 20 per cent less in the Mari-

219 Economic growth in the Atlantic region times. On a net value of production basis, of course, the contribution of the manufacturing sector would be substantially less; but the data do pinpoint the relative weakening of finished goods production in the Maritimes relative to Canada. Thus, the rapid rate of growth in Newfoundland had its origins in the expansion of two new resource sectors. Had these sectors not developed when they did, the economic troubles of the country would have been still more terrible. In the Maritimes the resource sectors had undergone earlier and more substantial development, and the region could not look to these areas for fresh impetus to growth. Manufacturing growth was essential to the development of the Maritimes if it was to maintain its stature within Canada and relative to Newfoundland. This was not accomplished, and while the sector contributed almost 60 per cent of output growth in the 1910-39 period, it was a contribution to a real growth in total output that was absolutely and relatively very small. A post-war estimate of Newfoundland's per capita national income for the years 1936-9 showed it to be only 62 per cent of the weighted average of the Maritime provinces.61 This was probably a substantial relative improvement over what it had been some sixty years earlier. In 1880 Newfoundland was structurally backward in terms of its labour force and output distributions. Much of the responsibility for this lay in the natural obstacles to food production, for if the same per capita production had been achieved in Newfoundland (output in other sectors remaining the same), per capita goods production would have been 86 per cent of the Maritimes' level rather than 54 per cent. Given the low productivity levels in the fishery, it is reasonable to believe that output in other sectors would not fall under such an assumption. Indeed, given an adequate agricultural base, there is little doubt that population would have been larger, monetization of the economy more pervasive, and incomes substantially higher in all sectors. The eifort that was made to raise agricultural output was important, but there was nothing Newfoundland could do about the weather and the soil. The task before the country was to overcome this natural disadvantage by maximum efficiency in other sectors. In the 1884-1911 period, although the impact of modernization and diversification efforts had little quantitative impact, by Canadian, Maritime, and western European standards the growth of goods production was at a reasonable rate.62 Population growth, however, absorbed a large share of this with the consequence that output per capita in 1911 was lower relative to the Maritimes and Canada than it had been in 1880. For New-

220 David Alexander foundland, the 1884-1911 period was one of extensive growth within the traditional economic framework, notwithstanding the industrial developments which dominated the final years of the period. Unless one posits major changes in the general level of education and the quality of entrepreneur ship, it is difficult to see how in this period Newfoundland could have developed at a more satisfactory rate than it did. The Maritimes was a more sophisticated and prosperous economy in 1880 than Newfoundland, with a per capita output which was closer to the Canadian average than Newfoundland's was to the Maritimes'. The major economic advantages the region enjoyed were the early commercial potential of its agricultural and forestry resources, and its location closer to the markets and stimulus of the fast-growing eastern seaboard of the United States. While goods production did not grow any faster in the Maritimes than in Newfoundland, the ease of emigration lowered population growth, and in 1911 per capita goods production relative to Canada was only three percentage points lower than it had been in 1880. With its already highly developed primary sectors, the Maritimes had to rely more upon expansion in finished goods or export sales of services, such as shipping, to maintain or improve its position. But the shipping industry collapsed and manufacturing output expanded at little better than half the Canadian rate. While the roots of the changes lay in the earlier period, a major break with continuity was visible in both Newfoundland and the Maritimes in the 1910-39 period. Newfoundland began rapidly to assume its modern character as a major resource production centre, with an aggregate growth of output which matched that of Canada. Heavy emigration in the 19208 generated a per capita growth in goods production which was substantially higher than in Canada. The country's major failure, however, lay in the fisheries sector. Spectacular rates of growth could not be expected in the difficult trading climate of the 19208 and 19308, but a long-term growth between 1910 and 1939 of at least 1.5 per cent per annum was possible for an efficient and imaginative fishing country.63 If such a growth rate had been achieved (making no adjustments for population growth or linkage impacts on other sectors), total per capita output in 1939 would have been $237 rather than $160, representing 52 per cent of the Canadian level rather than 35 per cent. Yet, whatever opportunities were missed in Newfoundland in this period, its overall performance was exceedingly good compared to the Maritimes, where on both a total and a per capita basis goods production fell drastically

221 Economic growth in the Atlantic region relative to both Canada and Newfoundland. No sector of the economy which was measured grew at as much as half the rate of the equivalent Canadian sector, or even close to the rates in Newfoundland. The obvious question is whether this performance was in some way inevitable? The Maritimes' agricultural sector was not markedly inferior to Ontario's and was a little better than Quebec's by some measures. The slightly higher growth of output for Canada was largely attributable to the residue of western expansion. Unlike the situation in Newfoundland and much of Canada, the forestry sector was already a mature industry. Newsprint manufacturing was relatively slow in coming to the Maritimes, and while higher growth was a possibility in the sector, the rate of growth recorded in Newfoundland was not. The mining growth rate was the highest in the Maritime economy, due partly to coal subsidies, but unlike Newfoundland, Quebec, Northern Ontario, and the west, there were no mining frontiers to be opened in the Maritimes. Fisheries production was as badly handled in the Maritimes as it was in Newfoundland, but it was also less important to the total or per capita growth rate. Thus, while margins for gains exist in any sector in any economy, it is clear that if the Maritime region was to maintain its relative well-being and stature within the country, it had to be secured in the finished goods sector. If in the 1880-1910 period manufacturing output had grown at the national rate, then the real value of output in 1910 would have been 8130 million rather than $85 million. If one also allows Maritime population to grow at the national rate, then total output per head in 1910 would have been $384 rather than $274. Making no allowances for inter-industry effects, total output per head would have been 77 per cent of the national level rather than 67 per cent. If one projects the same assumptions through the 1910-39 period, the effect is to raise per capita goods production to 84 per cent of the Canadian level as compared with the 55 per cent which existed. The least important objection to this extrapolation is that expansion in manufacturing output would mean less output in other sectors, leaving the Maritimes with a different distribution of output but not with any major gains in total and per capita output. The Maritime economy in this period, however, was not burdened with factor supply constraints (assuming that national financial institutions were indeed national) and the likely effect of manufacturing growth at the national rate would be a regional output and income growth path which converged towards national equality. But having posited that as a reasonable

222 David Alexander prediction, was it possible for the Maritimes to achieve the Canadian rate of growth in manufacturing? The truthful answer is that we do not know, and perhaps in the historical sense, it is unknowable. Keirstead, as we noted, argued that over most manufacturing sectors there were growing diseconomies to location in the Maritimes for the national market. Roy George has argued that the cost disadvantages are insignificant today, which does not prove that they always were. Apart from the i88os the rate of growth of manufacturing output in the Maritimes was substantially lower in both the 1880-1910 and 1910-39 periods, with most of the trouble concentrated in the inter-war years. Acheson's work indicates a far from hopeless prospect for Maritime manufacturers up to World War I, and in many industries there was real strength. Forbes' analysis of the transportation issue strongly suggests that the absorption of the Intercolonial Railway into a national system, and the resulting loss of regional control over freight rates, killed any hopes of maintaining or strengthening manufacturing in the inter-war period. The possibility that economic decline was a reflection of local entrepreneurial lassitude has been undercut by David Frank's study of the stunning ineptitude of the distinguished external management of one major Maritime industrial complex.64 Until much more work is done, the best conclusion is that manufacturing in the Maritimes for the national market did involve locational costs, but that it was rendered virtually impossible by national transportation policy and the absence of national incentives to overcome the disadvantages. If one accepts that a basic objective of any country is to equalize opportunities across the land and to implement policies which ultimately turn regional diseconomies into positive advantages, then the legitimate grievance of the Maritimes is that there was no place for it in twentieth-century Canada. The evidence is unmistakable that, despite remaining outside the Canadian economic and political union, population and output grew faster in Newfoundland than it did in the Maritimes. Does it therefore follow - and this was our second question - that Newfoundland gained from standing apart, and that development in the Maritimes was retarded by its earlier absorption? Indices of economic growth do not provide a conclusive answer. It is possible to argue, for example, that Newfoundland's growth rate would have been even higher as a province of Canada, as a consequence of a better supply of infrastructure and a more attractive and stable climate for Canadian and foreign investment. The historical experience of the Maritimes,

223 Economic growth in the Atlantic region however, does not encourage such predictions. It is impossible to know how the Maritimes would have responded to a less open economic and political environment. The romantic hypothesis is to predict a burst of creativity, as a function of the concentration of skills and energies occasioned by real and patriotic constraints on the migration of labour and capital. The pessimist would predict stagnation at higher aggregate, but lower per capita income. Despite the impressive growth performance of Newfoundland during its years of political independence, its history does not support the romantic interpretation. It is true that aggregate output grew faster in Newfoundland, and that there was some catching up in terms of output and income per capita. But little of that is obviously attributable to the genius of the Newfoundland people operating within the constraints and incentives of their own nation state. Newfoundland's stronger growth performance mainly reflected the opening of an unexploited natural resource frontier by foreign corporations. It was principally the impact of rapid development of large newsprint mills and mines that lifted the Newfoundland economy onto a more respectable level relative to the Maritimes. This development was quite independent of whether Newfoundland was a province of Canada or a quasi-sovereign dominion. Indeed, the major domestically controlled sector of the economy, the fishery, was the sector which was the poorest performer and which contributed most to the financial and political collapse of 1933. In the absence of a more creative development of domestically controlled sectors of the economy, Newfoundland in fact paid a price for its political independence. An earlier entry into confederation would not have quickened the pace of development in foreign enclave sectors. It would not have guaranteed Newfoundlanders a higher rate of return from those resource sectors. It would not have conferred any important social welfare benefits, for these were mainly a product of the post-war years. Certainly, if the Maritimes are to be taken as a model, it would not have done anything to spark a more dynamic domestic sector. But it can be said that an earlier entry into confederation would have relieved the country of its intolerable, externally held, public debt which, in the crisis of the depression, brought the country to its knees. Almost all of this debt had been acquired to support the railway system and to pay for the war effort. With the decline of exports during the early years of the depression, payments of interest and principal could not be met, and the debt could not be rolled over. Hence, the country collapsed in 1933, lost its dominion status, suffered the ignominy of suspended demo-

224 David Alexander cratic institutions, and as a result has felt vulnerable and exploited ever since. The only demonstrably clear lesson from Newfoundland's experience is that very small countries are financially precarious. They survive only if international trade and payments systems are liberal; if they profit from international conflicts; if they avoid, relative to their size, colossal investment blunders; and if, like Iceland, they rely upon internally generated sources of growth and development. Union with a larger country provides an element of stability, and this is a benefit not to be taken lightly. It does not, however, necessarily bring improved opportunities for regional growth and development, as Maritimers well know. In terms of expectations, Maritimers might well be right to complain that confederation generated disappointing long-term results. But the Newfoundland example of externally generated growth and domestic entrepreneurial stagnation perhaps suggests that the political question is fundamentally uninteresting. If the dominion of Newfoundland is accepted as the historical analogy, then at least it can be said that confederation allowed the Maritimes to maintain a shabby dignity. NOTES 1 R.E. Caves and R.H. Holton, The Canadian economy (Cambridge, Mass. 1961), 145. 2 See E.R. Forbes, 'The Origins of the Maritime Rights Movement,' Acadiensis v (autumn 1975): 55-61. 3 Royal commission respecting the coal mines of Nova Scotia (1926) and Royal commission on Maritime claims (1926). 4 Royal commission investigating the fisheries of the Maritime provinces and the Magdalen Islands (1928). 5 Royal commission respecting the coal mines of Nova Scotia (1932). 6 Nova Scotia royal commission provincial economic enquiry (1934). 7 Royal commission on financial arrangements between the dominion and the Maritime provinces (1935). 8 S.A. Saunders, The economic history of the Maritime provinces (Ottawa 1939). R.D. Rowland, Some regional aspects of Canada's economic development (Ottawa 1957). 9 Royal commission on provincial development and rehabilitation (1944). 10 Royal commission on coal (1946). 11 See, for example, the recent study by the Economic Council of Canada, Living together: a study of regional disparities (Ottawa 1977). 12 For example, it is unlikely the Department of Regional Economic Expansion would have been established in the absence of political and economic troubles in the province of Quebec.

225 Economic growth in the Atlantic region 13 Dalhousie's Institute of Public Affairs was an early contributor to regional studies, and the establishment of the Atlantic Provinces' Economic Council and later the Atlantic Development Board have contributed enormously to the production of regional studies. 14 Saunders, Economic history. 15 B.S. Keirstead, The theory of economic change (Toronto 1948), 269-81. 16 E.R. Forbes, 'Misguided symmetry: the destruction of regional transportation policy for the Maritimes,' in David Jay Bercuson, ed., Canada and the burden of unity (Toronto 1977), 60-86. 17 T.W. Acheson, 'The national policy and the industrialization of the Maritimes, 1880-1910,' Acadiensis i (spring 1971): 3-28; and 'The Maritimes and "Empire Canada",' in Bercuson, ed., Burden of unity, 87-114. 18 Roy George, A leader and a laggard (Toronto 1970), 102-5. 19 Newfoundland royal commission (1933). 20 R.A. MacKay, ed., Newfoundland: economic, diplomatic and strategic studies (Toronto 1948); H.B. Mayo, 'Newfoundland and Canada: the case for union examined' (unpublished DPHIL thesis, Oxford University 1948). 21 P. Copes, The resettlement of fishing communities in Newfoundland (Canadian Council on Rural Development, Ottawa 1972). Memorial University's Institute for Social and Economic Research has worked for the restoration of the fishing economy; among many publications are Cato Wadel, Marginal adaptations and modernization in Newfoundland (St John's 1969); Ottar Brox, Newfoundland fishermen in the age of industry (St John's 1972); Nelvin Farstad, Fisheries development in Newfoundland (Oslo and Bergen 1972); and David Alexander, 'The political economy of fishing in Newfoundland,' Journal of Canadian Studies II (February 1976): 32-40. 22 See Peter Neary, The political economy of Newfoundland (Toronto 1973), and David Alexander, 'Development and dependence in Newfoundland,' Acadiensis iv (autumn !974)- 3-31; 'Newfoundland's traditional economy and development to 1934,' Acadiensis v (spring 1976): 56-78; 'The decline of the saltfish trade and Newfoundland's integration into the North American economy,' Canadian Historical Association, Historical Papers, 1976, 229-48; and The decay of trade (St John's 1977). 23 'The Newfoundland economy: a modest proposal,' Canadian Forum 53 (March 1974): 18. 24 Simon Kuznets, Modern economic growth (New Haven 1966), table 2:5. 25 Calculations from M.C. Urquhart and K.A.H. Buckley, eds, Historical statistics of Canada (Toronto 1965), series A2-I4; and Newfoundland, Historical statistics of Newfoundland (St John's 1970), table AI. For migration patterns in the Maritimes, see Alan A. Brookes, 'Out-migration from the Maritime provinces, 1860-1900: some preliminary considerations,' Acadiensis v (spring 1976): 26-55. 26 Calculated from Peter B. Kenen, 'A statistical survey of basic trends,' in Seymour E. Harris, ed., American economic history (New York 1961), table 2, p.68. 27 See Angus Maddison, Economic growth in the west (London and New York 1964), table D-2, p.2i3.

226 David Alexander 28 All calculations from Canada, Census, 1891 and 1941, and Newfoundland and Labrador, Census, 1935 and 1945. 29 For a discussion of the location quotient, see W. Isard, Methods of regional analysis (Cambridge, Mass. 1960), 123-6. 30 The west has been excluded because its growth from the turn of the century distorts trends in the older settled regions, which must be the reference point for analysis of Atlantic development. 31 Alan G. Green, Regional aspects of Canada's economic growth (Toronto 1971), app. B; Newfoundland, Report of the royal commission on the economic state and prospect of Newfoundland and Labrador (St John's 1967), table 3. GVP is the value of shipments, while GVA is this less the value of inputs. 32 Where possible, all Newfoundland estimates were checked against other sources. 33 In the case of the service sector, the labour force analysis gives some support for these assumptions. 34 In the case of the Maritimes and Newfoundland, however, the broad similarities of industrial mix and the state of technology in most sectors should not lead to serious distortions. 35 Henceforth, the qualification 'excluding construction' will not be made. 36 Calculated from Canada, The Maritime provinces in their relation to the national economy of Canada (Ottawa 1948), table 3, pp44~5. 37 W.S. and E.S. Woytinsky, World population and resources (New York 1953), table 209, pp.44-538 The comparable Quebec/Ontario rate was calculated from deflated values in Canada Year Book, 1914, table 9; 1924, 203-4; 1934-5, 254-5; and 1941, 152-3. 39 Cash farm sales in the Maritimes were substantially lower than in Quebec/Ontario, but this reflects relative markets and not the well-being of the population. 40 In 1926 the real capital/labour ratio was $3,618 in the Maritimes and $3,833 for Canada, and the output/labour ratio was $2,337 m tne Maritimes and $2,958 for Canada. Calculated from Maritime provinces in their relation, table 20, pp.68~9. 41 The Maritime capital/labour ratio in pulp and paper in the 19205 was about 20 per cent lower, as was output per worker. In the 19308, however, with the spread of newsprint mills the Maritime ratios converged with the Canadian. 42 Newfoundland, Journal of the House of Assembly, 1873, Customs returns. 43 Ibid., 1912. 44 G.B., Department of Overseas Trade, Economic conditions in Newfoundland (London 1931), 28; and Maritime provinces in their relation, table 20, pp.68-9. 45 Newfoundland Industrial Development Board, Industrial survey (St John's 1949), n: 34-546 Calculated from Industrial survey, n: 37; and Maritime provinces in their relation, table 24, pp.74-5. Economic Council, Living together, 43. 47 An estimate derived from wages paid in 1938, as given in Industrial survey, n: 32-6, and total earnings for 1935 as given in Newfoundland and Labrador, Tenth Census, I 935? n, part i, sec. n, 85.

227 Economic growth in the Atlantic region 48 Michael J. Prince, Provincial mineral policies: Newfoundland, 1949—75 (Kingston 49 50 51 52 53

54 55

56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63

64

I977) 5 4Woytinsky, World Population, table 322, p.syi. Calculated from Newfoundland, Tenth Census, n: 85. This is discussed in Alexander, Decay of trade, chap. I. Calculated from Woytinsky, World population, 1003. The lower level of market activity in Newfoundland biases the results against the island for all sectors. For the development of the manufacturing sector, see John Joy, 'The growth and development of trades and manufacturing in St. John's, 1870-1914' (unpublished MA thesis, Memorial University of Newfoundland 1977). Woytinsky, World Population, table 423, p. 997. For both the Maritimes and Canada the actual rate might be somewhat higher because of a change in reporting which reduced the enumeration of output in 1910 relative to 1880. Industrial survey, i: 90. Maddison, Economic growth, 28. Maddison's GDP estimate for Canada is 3.8 per cent, which is identical to our estimate for goods production growth. Ibid., table A-2. Maddison's estimate of total production growth in Canada for the period 1910-38 is 2 per cent. Calculated from MacKay, Newfoundland, app. B. The gross value of production series which has been used in this essay shows a ratio of 63 per cent. See David Alexander, Traditional economy.' Between 1920 and 1937, Newfoundland's share of output in the North Atlantic fishery fell by twelve percentage points, and in the markets the country steadily lost ground against its major competitors. Whatever the trading difficulties (and they were not uniquely faced by this country), they were compounded by a backward technology in primary fishing, poor product quality, and inefficient and fragmented marketing. See Alexander, Decay of trade, chaps 2 and 3. David Frank, 'The Cape Breton coal industry and the rise and fall of the British Empire Steel Corporation,' Acadiensis vn (autumn 1977): 3-34.

CANADIAN UNIVERSITY PAPERBOOKS of related interest 2 The Fur Trade in Canada An introduction to Canadian economic history REVISED EDITION

Harold A. Innis 10 The Birth of Western Canada G.F.G. Stanley 65 Manitoba A history SECOND EDITION

W.L. Morton 85 Highland Settler A portrait of the Scottish Gael in Nova Scotia Charles W. Dunn 171 Prairie Liberalism The Liberal party in Saskatchewan 1905-71 David E. Smith 196 The Struggle for Responsible Government in the North-West Territories 1870-1897 SECOND EDITION

Lewis Herbert Thomas 200 The Political History of Newfoundland 1832-1864 Gertrude E. Gunn 207 Next-Year Country A study of rural social organization in Alberta Jean Burnet 212 The Cod Fisheries A history of an international economy Harold Adams Innis 236 Irish Settlements in Eastern Canada A study of cultural transfer and adaptation JohnJ. Mannion 245 Promise of Eden The Canadian expansionist movement and the idea of the West, 1856-1900 Doug Owram 251 Newfoundland in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Edited by James Hiller and Peter Neary 258 Timber Colony A historical geography of early nineteenth century New Brunswick Graeme Wynn