Historical Consciousness

July 13, 2010 § Leave a comment

So, I’m reviewing and revising a textbook right now (not mine, I’m just the outside expert).  In this textbook, in the Introduction, I have come across the following passage, which I find amusing.  I’m not sure I agree entirely with the idea, but it is an intriguing one for someone who lives in Québec and is a citizen of Canada and who studies Irish history:

In essence, reflecting on human reality means reflecting on ourselves, since we are all humans and nothing in the human experience is completely foreign to us. In this sense, history is to groups of people what psychology is to individuals.  Imagine an historian talking to his “patient”:

You suffer from a colonization complex, compounded by a repressed rebellion and a weak constitution. I recommend that you go through a major political crisis every ten or fifteen years over the next 100 years. Then you should feel a bit better. But your past will follow you until the end of your days, in one way or another. You’ll be better off if you accept it right away.

Recent Readings on the Irish Diaspora

April 26, 2010 § Leave a comment

As I continue to read, deepening my knowledge of the Irish diaspora in the United States and Canada, I find I’m struck by the changing trends in the historiography, in particular the fact that this literature IS diasporic and transnational in nature.  Ever since Kerby Miller published his landmark Emigrants and Exiles in 1985, historians of the Irish in North America have been encouraged to keep an eye on the Irish context.  But, for a long time, this was no more than a cursory glance across the Atlantic Ocean, briefly acknowledging what it was that lead the Irish to leave Ireland in the first place.

But, in the past decade or so, a much deeper understanding of the Irish context has taken root in the literature.  Diasporic Irish historians have been caught up in the debates in Irish historiography, the revisionists v. the post-revisionists, but even the older discussion between revisionists and nationalists.  And what I’m finding interesting is the influence of these Irish historiographical debates on scholars studying the diaspora.  It also seems that it is social scientists, rather than historians, who seem to be caught up in these debates.  I suppose for historians, historiographical debates are so internalised in our work, to openly comment on them seems redundant, at least for some of us.

Take, for example, Reginald Byron’s 1999 study, Irish America, an overly ambitious title for a case study approach to the diasporic Irish of Albany, NY.  Indeed, part of the chip on Byron’s shoulder is that studies of the Irish in the US have focused on the ethnic enclaves of major cities: New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and Chicago, to the detriment of smaller centres, such as Albany.  But then the problem is that Albany itself isn’t all that representative of the larger American context, in that it was a predominately Catholic city, and it, too, is a northeastern city.  Anyway.  Byron is a cynic of the Irish, which is fine, he argues, ultimately, that symbols of Irishness, most notably St. Patrick’s Day, are no longer Irish in nature, they are American, as the Irish have been fully assimilated into the mainstream of American life.  To an extent, I agree.  He bases his conclusion on 500 oral interviews with “Albanians,” most of whom were people who are of Irish descent, amongst others (German, English, French Canadian, Italian, so on).  What he found is that most of the informants had no special knowledge of Ireland and Irish affairs, and did not live their quotidian lives in the Irish fashion, whatever that is.  Fair enough, but when you read into the Irish context he covers, in discussing the historical background as to how Albany became so Irish in the first place, one begins to see the connections.

Byron spends a lot of time attempting to portray Ireland as un nation comme les autres, to borrow from the revisionists of Québec historiography.  Indeed, this is the very goal of the Irish revisionists, who seek to downplay many of the more traumatic events in Irish history as a means to normalise its history within the mainstream of Western Europe.  The problem with this is that there are things that make Ireland exceptional: it was colonised by its neighbour, its Catholic population was oppressed and disenfranchised by the colonising power.  Byron scoffs at the common misconception that the Irish were in permanent rebellion in the 19th century.  Again, to some extent, I do agree.  However, this ignores the fact that the Irish did rebel in 1798, 1847, 1867, and that there were revolutionary, physical force nationalists operated on Irish soil for most of the 19th century leading up to Irish independence and Partition in 1921.  Indeed, the response to the 1798 and 1916 rebellions were particularly draconian on the part of the British colonisers.

Indeed, it was this on-going pattern of rebellion that galvanised the Irish diaspora, especially in Canada and the United States, as nationalist circles were strong in both countries.  Indeed, it was the Irish in North America who raised funds for the independence struggle “back home,” even if Ireland was a country many diasporic Irish never saw, and only knew through stories and memories of their ancestors and more recent immigrants.

But this also leads to problems, as evidenced in Paul Darby’s Gaelic Games, Nationalism, and the Irish Diaspora in the United States.  Darby, who plays Irish football, occasionally comes off more as a fanboy than a scholar in discussing the trials and tribulations of the Gaelic Athletic Association’s American branches, praising their dedication, hard work, and so on, and not acknowledging the American GAA’s biggest problem: an inability to make itself relevant to the diasporic Irish.  The GAA, according to Darby, was incredibly successful within circles of Irish immigrants in the cities he studies: New York, Boston, Chicago, and San Francisco.  But the American GAA faded when immigration from Ireland dried up.

At any rate, the larger issue I have with Darby’s work is that he seems to equate the Irish in North America with Irish nationalism, in that the Irish here were all nationalists.  No doubt this stems from studying a particularly nationalist organisation as the GAA.  But the GAA didn’t speak for all the Irish in North America, even within the contexts of Boston, New York, Chicago, and San Francisco.

Thus, Darby leaves us with a problem that is at the opposite end of the spectrum from Byron.  Whereas Byron wishes to downplay the ruptures of Irish history and identity in Albany, NY, Darby seeks to keep those ruptures in his readers’ minds, in order to explain this strong Irish identity amongst his case studies in New York, Boston, Chicago, and San Francisco.  Surely there is a common ground between Byron and Darby.

Indeed, my own work, as well as that of many others (Rosalyn Trigger and David Wilson, for example) explore the ambivalences and ambiguities of the Irish in North America.  It is too simplistic to say, as Byron does, that they became assimilated into the mainstream of North American culture and politics (if they did, JFK wouldn’t have been identified as an Irish-Catholic American), or to say that the Irish in North America = Irish nationalists, as Darby does.

Urban Archaeology & Material Culture

April 21, 2010 § 1 Comment

Recently, I’ve been thinking about urban archaeology and material culture.   Given my research interests, I suppose it’s only natural that I would also think about the actual physical landscape of the city and how it shifts and changes with time, populations, and construction.

Years ago, I visited Montréal’s Pointe-à-Callière Museum, in the Vieux-Port.  Point-à-Callière is the site of the first settlement of Ville-Marie, where Paul de Chomedy, Sieur de Maisonneuve decided to plant his new settlement in 1642.  The museum itself is based around 3 archaeological digs (Pointe-à-Callière iteslf, as well as Place Royale and Place D’Youville), and artefacts from these archaeological digs are on display.  But it’s not just that.  In the underground of the museum, down where the digs took place, one can physically see the layers of city and settlement on Pointe-à-Callière, from the initial aboriginal inhabitants through the founding of Ville-Marie, to the governor’s mansion that was once located there, through urbanisation, industrialisation, and so on.  The physical remnants of the buildings, and artefacts are there for the viewer to see.

My favourite part is the William sewer, which canalised, and placed underground, the Rivière Petite Saint-Pierre, which itself had become a stinking cesspool as it flowed above ground through what was once the Nazareth Fief (and later Griffintown), into the St. Lawrence, hence creating Pointe-à-Callière.  Apparently (at least according to its entry on Wikipedia), the museum has plans to open up and expose the Petite Saint-Pierre, as well as the old location of St. Ann’s Market in Place D’Youville, as well as the remains of the Parliament House of the United Province of Canada, which was burned down in the Rebellion Losses Bill Riot in 1849 (just imagine a riot today in a democracy burning down the house of parliament!).

Anyway, this is where I first thought about urban archaeology, but I never really gave it much more thought in terms of my academic interests until a couple of summers ago, whilst walking along the Canal Lachine, where, at the St. Gabriel locks, Parks Canada has dug up the foundations and remnants of a factory on the northeastern side of the locks.

Andy Riga, over at The Gazette, has an interesting blog, “Metropolitan News;” his latest post is about the public toilets, disused and buried under Place D’Armes.   During the reign of Mayor Camillien Houde in the 1930s, partly as a public works project, Vespesiennes were built in Carré Saint-Louis, Square Cabot, amongst other places, and public washrooms were constructed in places including Place D’Armes.  The washrooms there were shuttered in 1980, victim of many things, including Montréal’s notoriously crumbling infrastructure.  Since then, there have been a few plans or attempts at plans to revive the public toilets, but they are in serious decay and would cost too much money to renovate them, due to years of neglect, water damage, and humidity.  So they remain buried under Place D’Armes which, like Dorchester Square downtown, is undergoing a massive renovation.

So notions of what’s underfoot have long interested me as I’ve wandered about the city, but especially in the sud-ouest, Griffintown and Pointe-Saint-Charles, as well as Saint-Henri, where I’ve lived for most of the past decade. 

Also, too, there is the influence of Prof. Rhona Richman Kenneally of Concordia University, who encouraged me to give some thought to material culture in approaching my dissertation and my work on Griffintown.  Ultimately, as interesting and exciting as I found approaches to material culture in my studies, there was no way to fit it into the dissertation (the same can be said of proper mapping of the Griff).  But I remained intrigued by these ideas.

So, with all of this in mind, I finally got my hands on Stephen A. Brighton’s Historical Archaeology of the Irish Diaspora, based around digs in the Five Points of Manhattan and in Newark, New Jersey.  Using the archaeological evidence, Brighton constructs an argument centred on the material culture of 19th century Irish-American life in these two urban centres.   Using this methodology, Brighton is able to answer a lot of questions we cannot answer using more traditional historical methodologies.  Brighton has the remnants of the material culture of the Irish immigrants and Irish-Americans.  Finding glasswares with symbols of Irish nationalism on them suggests that the movement had some traction amongst the tenement dwellers of the Five Points.

My favourite part of his analysis, though, comes in relation to medicine.  The artefacts from the Five Points come from the 1850s and 60s, whereas those in the New Jersey digs are from the 1880s.   In other words, the Five Points Irish were more recent arrivals and lived in greater poverty than those in New Jersey.  Thus, their access to the nascent public health system was different than that of their compatriots in Jersey.  Brighton found that the Five Points Irish relied more on cure-alls and pseudo-medical tonics to cure what ailed them.  Throughout the dig site are bottles that once contained tonics and cures, whereas in New Jersey, the digs uncovered evidence of reputable medicines.  This, concludes Brighton, is symptomatic of that poverty but also, too, perhaps of the alienation of mid-19th century Irish immigrants from the mainstream of American culture and society (remember, the 1850s also saw the Know-Nothing movement in the USA and the Bowery B’hoys Riot of 1857). 

So what Brighton offers up here is a piece of evidence to support what historians already know from more traditional sources.  And this brings me to my problem with Brighton’s book: it doesn’t add much in the way of new information to our historical knowledge.  Rather than challenge historians’ traditional takes on the Irish in the Five Points (especially), Brighton confirms what we already knew with the archaeological evidence.

Positive Feedback

March 27, 2010 § Leave a comment

A few months ago, I published an article in a book edited by John Chi-Kit Wong of the University of Western Washington in Bellingham.  The book was entitled, Coast to Coast: Hockey in Canada to the Second World War (University of Toronto Press, 2009), and my article was entitled “‘Scientific Aggression’: Class, Manliness, Class, and Commercialisation in the Shamrock Hockey Club, Montreal.”

Today, John forwarded the authors a review of the book from the H-Arete listserv, which deals with sport history, written by Jason Blake, University of Ljubljana, Slovenia.  Blake had this to say about my article:

A few chapters show a keen interest in narrative, examining individual newspaper reports and trends in sports reporting. In “‘Scientific Aggression’: Irishness, Manliness, Class, and Commercialization in the Shamrock Hockey Club of Montreal, 1894-1901,” John Matthew Barlow argues that reporters in Montreal “became less concerned with the idea of fair play” and “more interested with winning and losing” (37) long before the amateur debate died. In a special subsection, Barlow provides cogent Ð almost literary Ð readings of individual press accounts. Important, too, is his highlighting of how self-consciously the journalists created stories of games. Consider this 1900 pronouncement: “Narrative in the superlative can only convey an imperfect sense of the paragon of perfection and sensation detail of this, the last and premier exhibition of a week’s great hockey” (64). It’s a shame Aethlon was not around then.

Very nice to get such good feedback on my first publication.

The Irish Are Not, and Were Not, British

January 23, 2010 § 3 Comments

There are very few things in academia that get my goat quite like statements such as the following: “In all, there were 2,544,101 British born living in foreign counties [in 1861].  Most of these were accounted for by emigrants to the United States [,] 2,476,132 (of whom 65% were Irish and 4.5% were Scots).” (my italics)

The Irish don’t belong in this categorisation.  Ireland isn’t part of Britain.  Nor was it ever.  The island itself, of course, is part of the British Isles, but that is not what people refer to when referring to “Britain.”  Britain is the other major island, on which the nations of England, Scotland, and Wales can be found.  In 1801, an Act of Union was forced upon the Irish following the failed United Irishmen uprising of 1798.  But the kingdom created out of this union was known as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.  Today, the UK is comprised of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

This annoys me for two reasons: 1) I am an historian of the Irish diaspora and, I also include myself in that diaspora, and 2) it is just historically, definitionally, and factually wrong.  Prior to Irish independence in 1922, it is true that people born in Ireland received UK (more colloquially referred to as British) citizenship.  But so did Canadians, prior to the creation of Canadian citizenship on 1 January 1947.  It is also true that one can claim UK citizenship based upon ancestral UK citizenship of someone (i.e.: a grandparent) born in pre-independence Ireland.  But that doesn’t make the Irish British, either historically or today.  It made the Irish citizens of the UK, just as someone who is from Northern Ireland is today a UK citizen (although, due to the Repbublic of Ireland’s citizenship laws, some Northern Irish/UK citizens can also claim Irish citizenship). 

The point is that the relationship between Ireland and Britain (or perhaps more properly termed, England) is complicated.  But it’s just laziness that causes academics to lump the Irish in with the British in discussing emigration. 

When writing my dissertation, my supervisor and I had an argument about some random fact of the Irish past (I was right, it turned out), but he made a good point: as an academic and a scholar, you don’t want to make little stupid errors, because they sap your credibility.  He was bang on.  I see stupid errors, even typos, and I find myself questioning the credibility of the source.  I read historically, definitionally, technically, and factually incorrect statements in peer-reviewed scholarship, and I find myself dismissing the larger argument being made.  Call me fickle, call me a stickler.  Factual correctness matters.

U2

December 12, 2009 § Leave a comment

I just want to say apropos of nothing, that I am completely blown away that U2 would spend $3 million to build themselves a temporary outdoor stadium at the recently disused Hippodrome-de-Montréal.  More than that, that they would offer tickets for as low as 30$.  And even more than that, that this temporary stadium will seat up to 80,000 people and that U2 sold out two shows on 16-17 July 2010 in next to no time (and no, I don’t have tickets).  As the Irish say in such moments, Jay-sus!  Up to 160,000 people for two nights to see U2.

One of my students last week tried to argue that U2 were a spent force as a rock band.  Apparently, dude was wrong.

I wish I could tie this to some commentary on the strength of the Irish diaspora in Montréal, or something like that.  But sometimes, well, a cigar is just a cigar.  So, instead, I present you with this video, tying U2’s classic “Sunday Bloody Sunday” back to its original meaning, Bloody Sunday on the Bogside in Derry, Northern Ireland, on 30 January 1972.

Where Am I?

You are currently browsing entries tagged with ireland at Matthew Barlow.