Lawrence Martin on the history of Canadian democracy

Canada’s forgotten independence day

March 11, 1848, was the day when Canada’s united colonies got responsible government. You might go so far as to call it our independence day – the day real democracy arrived.

It followed decades of struggle against British rule, the rebellions of 1837 and 1838 being foremost examples. Power passed from colonial elites to citizens when a Reform government headed by Louis-Hippolyte LaFontaine and Robert Baldwin was sworn in that day by governor-general Lord Elgin. The Reformers had won an election over conservative forces aligned to the monarchy.

Baldwin and LaFontaine, leaders of the territories now known as Ontario and Quebec, convinced their colonial masters that allowing power to reside with an elected assembly instead of a governor’s appointed executive council was the only way to stave off anarchy.

In the context of times, of so many countries seeking and failing to establish democratic systems, it was a remarkable achievement. We were “almost first out of the modern democracy gate,” writes John Ralston Saul in his book on LaFontaine and Baldwin. While you probably wouldn’t want to high-five our democracy today, given what it has become, we were trailblazers back then.

Europe-wide democratic revolutions marked 1848. Counterrevolutions followed shortly thereafter, and one was ignited in Canada. In 1849, reactionary mobs burned down the parliament buildings, then located in Montreal. But LaFontaine and Baldwin handled the crisis in a spirit of conciliation and compromise, as they had in bringing their culturally divergent provinces into union years earlier.

No such spirit prevailed in the United States, which was on the road to civil war, or in European jurisdictions where upheaval would mark the road to democratic legitimacy and world wars would be triggered.

The model put in place in our colonies was sound enough to endure through time with minimal politically inspired violence and bloodshed. The Baldwin and LaFontaine ministry decentralized power, establishing municipal governments. It brought in a modern legal and jury system and established secular public universities.

John A. Macdonald became our nation maker, as biographer Richard Gwyn calls him, but these men put in place the foundation. Lawyers by profession, they were not your typical win-at-all-costs politicians. Baldwin was a soft-spoken man who went about his work with a sunken heart. The pain at the loss of his adored wife at a young age never escaped him. But inescapable too was his devotion to the principles of democracy, social equity and justice. LaFontaine had that same commitment. He overcame strident opposition from francophone leaders in realizing his vision of a democratic union of the two cultures.

Not to be overlooked is Nova Scotia’s Joseph Howe, who secured responsible government for Nova Scotia two months earlier than Ontario and Quebec. His philosophy of governance paralleled that of Baldwin and LaFontaine. “The only questions I ask myself are, What is right? What is just? What is for the public good?” he said.

That’s a credo today’s political leaders would do well to heed. The responsible government fashioned in 1848 was primitive in many ways, but the form of democracy, in which the executive was controlled by the elected assembly, was a purer one than now. Now, the system is more akin to what existed prior to March 11, 1848, when the governor had all the power.

It’s all the more reason to remember that date, but we don’t. Academic David E. Smith notes in his book, Across the Aisle, that Canada’s contribution to responsible government used to be “a venerable theme in Canadian high school classes.” Sadly, he notes, that’s no longer the case.

Somebody will be interested in this book post...

From The Medieval Review:

Rouse, Richard H. and Mary A. Rouse. Foreword by Robert Somerville.
Bound Fast with Letters: Medieval Writers, Readers, and Texts.
Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2013. Pp. xvi, 570.
$89.00 ISBN: 9780268040338.

   Reviewed by Alexander Andrée
        University of Toronto
        alexander.andree@utoronto.ca


Eighteen articles published over a span of forty years find a bele
conjointure
in this delightful volume, which takes its reader on a
journey through one thousand years of book production. Divided into
three sections and an epilogue, this collection offers its reader
seasoned research on such seemingly disparate topics as wax tablets,
Donatist Aids to Biblical Study, Carolingian liturgical texts,
twelfth-century monastic sermons, the Waldensians and the schools, the
manuscripts of Richard de Fournival, crusading collections in
fourteenth-century France, a mysterious golden peacock, the habits of
wandering scribes and traveling artists, and much more.

Though article collections often seem to lack cohesion, this is not
the case with the present book. Its editors wisely saw fit to
privilege concept over context as their guiding organizational
principle. A brand new introduction, ditto vignettes for each section,
uniform formatting and new page numbering further contribute to the
unified aspect of the volume. And this book is, after all, about
books. It covers scribal practices across a thousand years,
parchmenting and decoration, patronage and book production. Though a
book devoted exclusively to matters of codicology may perhaps run the
risk of being a rather dry read except for the ardent specialist, this
is, once again, not the case here. On the contrary, the authors
consistently contextualize the material dimension of their manuscripts
as they call attention to the implications this material has on
medieval culture at large. This makes for a riveting read, which has
something to offer every kind of medievalist. In short, this is
"integral palaeography" at its best. Leonard Boyle would surely have
been proud.

A most impressive aspect of this volume, and one that shines through
most of its pages, is the special care with which the authors describe
and contextualize the single manuscripts--or even manuscript leaves--
held in North America. If the proper scrutiny of two Carolingian
bifolia, for example, can yield unexpected insights into "previously
unknown monastic liturgical practices in late-ninth or early-tenth-
century Burgundy" (60), one can only imagine the fruits that might be
reaped through equally detailed research into the much richer and more
plentiful European manuscript holdings. This message can certainly be
extrapolated from the opening section, "Writing It Down:
Practicalities and Imagery, 500-1200" (13-112), where we also learn
how a manuscript kept at Yale University's Beinecke Library provides
the hitherto missing link between the Spanish Waldensians, on the
brink of heresy, and the schools of Paris. It shows how the former,
through tolerance and understanding, could be brought into the
orthodox fold of the Church ("The Schools and the Waldensians: A New
Work by Durand of Huesca," 89-112).

The central portion, "Patrons and the Use of Books, 1250-1400," is the
book's longest (115-419) section and it perhaps reflects the authors'
keenest interests. The main theme here is how, and it what context, a
number of French vernacular texts were produced and circulated in the
high Middle Ages. First comes a study of the surviving manuscripts of
the Old French vernacular poet and patron of Latin manuscript
production Richard de Fournival (d. 1260). Judging by his list of
personal book-holdings, the Biblionomia, which mentions no less
than 132 volumes, it has long been held that Richard was instrumental
in preserving and transmitting rare works of classical Antiquity. Back
in 1973, when the Rouses originally published on this subject, they
were able to identify thirty-eight surviving manuscripts from this
list, most of which were held in the Bibliothèque nationale de France
in Paris, with a few exceptions uncovered in such distant locations as
Bern, Edinburgh and Florence. The authors have since successfully
identified six additional codices (in Paris, Leiden, Valenciennes and
at the Vatican) as originally belonging to de Fournivals's library.
The longest article in the volume, "Context and Reception: A Crusading
Collection for Charles IV of France" (215-279), considers how a Roman
tractate on warfare, Vegetius' De re militari, copied in the
company of the "right" texts and diffused under favourable
circumstances, could be turned into a piece of papal propaganda. In a
feat of codicological sleuthing worthy of a Lord Peter Wimsey, the
Rouses manage to show not only that Vegetius' tractate was copied
alongside crusading literature at Paris in the early part of the
fourteenth century, but also that it was assembled for King Charles IV
of France at the behest of none other than Pope John XXII, whose
crusading plans were shared by the French monarch.

Particularly fascinating in the third section, "Commercial Book-
Makers, French and Italian, 1290-1410" (422-522), is chapter 13,
"Wandering Scribes and Traveling Artists: Raulinus of Fremington and
His Bolognese Bible" (423-458), which reconstructs the career of a
West Country Englishman using information gleaned from the Bible he
copied toward the end of the thirteenth century. Not only were the
authors able to gather that he learned his trade in Paris and worked
in Bologna, they obtained insight into the scribe's personal life.
Contrary to the habits of most copyists, Raulinus left personal notes
scattered throughout the volume, not in the margins or otherwise
separate from the text, but as part of the text proper. From these
notes (the Rouses count sixteen of varying length, some of which are
in verse), Raulinus emerges, even by modern standards, as "lustful,
coarse, and self-absorbed" (425). His notes normally concern his
encounters with two women, Meldina and Vilana. The former is described
sometimes as a harlot, whore or leech and other times as a blossoming
rose and a jewel of womankind, whose love for Raulinus is commensurate
to the amount of change in his pockets. Vilana, according to Raulinus,
stole his cloak, for which she obtained the epithet, "dung-heap."
Indeed, it is the way in which the Rouses illuminate the human
dimension of scribal activity (which is sadly so rare among surviving
witnesses) that makes the book a cohesive delight to read. I only wish
Raulinus' comments could have been printed as an appendix--like many
of the other texts encountered in manuscripts in this volume--rather
than being relegated to the footnotes. For, as stated above, Raulinus
was not one to relegate his thoughts to the margins of his materials.

This book is undeniably a florilegium, but one hardly notices
that the flores have been plucked from different pastures.
Together, they give off the enticing scent of codicology come alive.







The Medieval Review
https://scholarworks.iu.edu/dspace/handle/2022/3631

The Bothy Band 1976 – godlike

Gods and goddesses do not care about our petty problems of life and death and suffering.  Rather, they unleash joy and terror at their own whim.

Atheism in Egypt

Did anyone expect this?

  Juan Cole reports:  

 Egyptian journalist Hilmy al-Namnam said last fall that some researchers had concluded that there were 2 million Egyptian atheists. He blamed the rapid increase in unbelief among young people on the period of Muslim Brotherhood rule and the hypocrisy of television preachers. Educated young women are especially dismayed at the discourse on women apparent in clerical sermons. [Quoting Hilmy al-Namnam:]

Apparently it was the rule of the Muslim Brotherhood [June 2012-July 2013] that caused these groups of young people to pop up and which increased their numbers. It was suggested that I meet with a number of them last April, and I heard then from a young woman who says that she forsook religion, and when I discussed with them I did not find exactly what you could call a atheism, but a great deal of anger and protest at prevailing actions and behavior, and even many believers will share their anger and protest at the glaring contradiction between words and deeds of some of the preachers on television.”

A classic courtly love sentiment from Cadenet

Provided that her great virtue increases,
and is heard about,
it doesn't matter to her if I find myself afflicted,
nor how my affairs go.
For it is good for her that I bear all the suffering,
and I like when I can put her forth;
it is good for her when she can make me languish
and I like when I can advance her;
she doesn't care that I feel bad,
and I like it when she feels good.

More from Cadenet

The thing I would  be,
if I had such faculty,
would be such
as has power.
For I'd be nicely provided
with weapons and clothing,
I'd be generous with guests,
I'd be sumptuous in court,
I'd want to see ladies,
give gifts often,
follow wars and tournaments,
and take pleasure in courting.

And this, it seems to me, would be virtue
more than rapine
of which are fond
all our barons;
for if you are richer
than others, and so are your people,
they'll prepare riders
with light equipment
to snatch the loot more easily,
or, if they are met with force,
to flee more easily; it'd seem to me
that this debases and discredits them.

There was a time when one recognized
lovers, when he saw them,
by their great expenses
and by the many beautiful gifts
and by the pleasant apparels
and by the beautiful receptions.
But, today, it's the smooth talkers,
for riches corrupt all good qualities;
but through ingenuity or through learning
one can't keep his virtue
unless one establishes or enhances it through [his] actions:
such is the way these things go.

No man loses himself
through courtesy.
And there was a time
when one was in love
and youth showed
and congeniality reigned.
But now he who first goes
get the oxen and the cattlemen
is thought of as the most valiant.
You, see if they tell the truth,
those who, thanks to these same earnings,
show themselves in disgraceful attire.

The American Tributary System, by Yuen Foong Khong

From the Chinese Journal of International Politics (paywall):

America has more in common with China than is generally recognized. In this article, I employ the idea of the tributary system—most often associated with China’s international relations from antiquity—to interpret how America relates to the rest of the world (ROW). I argue that the United States has instituted the most successful tributary system the world has ever seen. As the hub or epicenter of the most extensive network of formal and informal alliances ever built, the United States offers its allies and partners—or tributaries—military protection as well as economic access to its markets.1 Through an equally impressive array of international institutions and organizations, many of which it created, the United States transmits and imposes its values and its preferred rules of the game on the international system. The ensuing economic and politico-military ‘orders’ are construed as ‘public goods’ provided by a benign American hegemony. In return for all its exertions, the tribute America seeks is straightforward: first, that it be recognized as the power or hegemon, and second, that others emulate its political forms and ideas. With both tributes in hand, the United States finds equanimity; it and the world are safe, at least from the United States’ point of view.

I elaborate on these arguments below and provide preliminary evidence in support of them. We begin with a discussion and critique of some of the most influential contemporary interpretations of America as an international actor, focusing on accounts of the US empire, the United States as the unipolar power, and as the chief patron of a system of client states. I suggest that while these accounts illuminate important aspects of the US–ROW relationship, they fail to emphasize the payback the United States wants in return for its exertions as the hegemon. This paves the way for introducing the idea of the tributary system, which takes hierarchy as its point of departure, but which emphasizes two insights not found in the existing accounts: the United States’ desire for recognition (by its tributaries) that it is the number one power, and for them (the tributaries) to adopt (US-style) liberal democratic norms and institutions. A discussion of the Chinese tributary system follows, focusing on six of its key characteristics. I then demonstrate how each of these features has parallels in America’s approach to world since 1898. Differences between the Chinese tributary system and that of the United States will also be discussed. The article concludes by spelling out the empirical/theoretical payoffs and implications of viewing US–ROW relations through the tributary lens.
...




The novelty of the tributary framework does not rest on the contention about American hegemony, a point that many international relations scholars accept. The novelty of the tributary concept resides elsewhere. First, its normative take on hegemony: it casts hegemony in a less positive light, emphasizing the hierarchical and unequal nature of the relationship. Mainstream international relations theory tends to portray hegemony in a predominantly positive light, emphasizing leadership, provision of public goods, and stability.106 The idea of the tributary system, in contrast, lays bare the inequality of the relationship by its very vocabulary. China thrived on that inequality and the rituals that affirmed it. The United States, however, is understandably more conflicted: inequality, manifested in the desire for recognition of US superiority, seems at odds with the self-understanding of a nation whose Declaration of Independence begins with ‘All men are created equal’.

The tributary idea, in other words, emphasizes hierarchy and inequality in ways that the notion of hegemony seeks to dissipate. Which concept fits better with America’s relationship vis-à-vis the ROW, I leave it to the reader’s judgment. Note, however, that while hierarchy in and of itself may have negative connotations or seems at odds with the notion of ‘sovereign equality’, it is presumed to have stabilizing effects by a veritable lineage of international relations scholarship. Hegemonic stability theory suggests that hegemons play a crucial role in underwriting the economic and security order by providing the public goods that lesser states are incapable or unwilling to ante up to.107 To be sure the hegemon also reaps huge all round gains.108 David Kang argues that Chinese hegemony during the Ming and Qing periods brought the region five centuries of peace and stability.109 William Wohlforth makes the case that US unipolarity is likely to last a generation and that it is also conducive to peace and stability.110 East and Southeast Asians who welcome American hegemony in their region might also be subscribing to a ‘hegemony is conducive to peace and stability’ line of thought than to balance of power principles.

The second novelty inspired by the tributary idea is the focus on ‘tribute’—if you recognize my pole position, what should you be doing when we meet and when we are far apart? China’s answer was: let me decide if you can visit (and how frequently), kowtow to the emperor when you come to pay tribute, and allow me to invest you with the legitimacy to rule; and finally, emulate our cultural forms when you are back home. Those who bought into the system reaped substantial economic and security benefits. Viewing the United States as the hub of the tributary system provides similar insights about what it would expect from its tributaries: acknowledge its superior power by not contesting it and by allowing it bases and places; play by US rules of the economic game, and emulate American political ideas and forms. The economic and security payoffs for the secondary states are as great as those garnered by China’s major tributaries.

Finally, viewing America as the fountainhead of a tributary system connects many of the most interesting—hitherto disparate—dots that constitute the landscape of American diplomacy: hegemon, leader of the free world, democracy (promotion), prestige/status, and credibility. These self-understandings and concerns have featured prominently as key factors impacting on US foreign policy, but there does not exist a narrative that connects them in a coherent way. The tributary idea connects them and sees these elements as essential parts of the (tributary) system. Hegemony needs a legitimating discourse to justify the hierarchy and inequality and while the extant literature hones in on the provision of public goods, it neglects the politics: democracy and leadership (of the free world). What is really distinctive about the US legitimation discourse is the fusion of the two: how democracy and US leadership are joined, as in the term leader of the free world. The latter accords the United States a moral status, prestige, and credibility that are critical ingredients in maintaining the tributary system. When the epicenter is perceived to be unrivalled on these qualities, tributaries will want to edge closer to the epicenter for protection (and prestige by association) and adversaries will think twice before challenging it. It is only in understanding how seriously the United States takes that leadership role that prestige and credibility become central concerns that must be protected in the overall scheme of things.

In a piece for The Atlantic as the Cold War was winding to an end, John Lewis Gaddis proposed characterizing the period from 1945 to 1989 as The Long Peace. ‘Change the name’, Gaddis wrote, ‘and you change the thing’.111 By the latter he meant that the very speech-act of naming it a ‘Cold War’, imparts a negative take on how we view and understand the period, perhaps making us less able to discern the positive developments. Viewing it as the Long Peace, in contrast, should dispose us to better understand, and perhaps preserve, the elements that sustained that peace. This article has sought to introduce a new vocabulary to view the way the United States relates to the ROW. Its distinctive contributions consist in introducing the (Chinese) tributary idea as a framework for analyzing US foreign policy and in fleshing out the parallels suggested by the framework in a preliminary way.

We began by observing how America and China’s approach to international relations have unrecognized similarities. Perhaps it is appropriate to end by commenting on an underappreciated difference. In his superb analysis of the Chinese world order and how it collapsed in the face of Western pressures, Yongjin Zhang honed in on a vocabulary change that revealed China’s existential dilemma after the mid-19th century: China’s sense of its place in the world shrank from ‘tianxia’ (all under heaven) to ‘guojia’ (a state), i.e. ‘the Chinese world became a China in the world’.112 Using the tributary lens to illuminate the longue duree of American diplomacy leads one to a rather different conclusion about America’s foreign policy trajectory in the 20th and 21st centuries: the United States’ place in the world seems to have moved from ‘guojia’ to ‘tianxia’. The term that most of us have used until now to describe that trajectory and state of affairs is the Pax Americana. Could that be a euphemism for the American tributary system?