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  • The Dragon's Tales' Will Baird speculates that life on Mars, which plausibly got started earlier thanks to quicker cooling, was devastated by multiple devastating impacts.

  • Far Outliers' Joel examines the 11th century of Constantinople and Venice, a relationship that was shifting as Venice gained strength.

  • Geocurrents takes a look at religious diversity in Ethiopia, making the interesting point that in addition to Christian-Muslim conflict there is also conflict between Ethiopian Orthodox Christians and Protestants.

  • The Inuit Bikini Monster notes that a cat in Mexico is running for a mayoral position.

  • John Moyer makes the point that fantasy literature isn't necessarily escapist, not least because terrible things happen.

  • Language Hat notes that, for plausible and understandable reasons, the phrase "a sight for sore eyes" is starting to refer to something bad.

  • Marginal Revolution wonders whether traditional dress in the Gulf States is a marker of identity, and to what extent.

  • The Power and the Money's Noel Maurer thinks that Edward Snowden made a good choice by seeking refuge in Ecuador, a sufficiently democratic and low-crime Latin American polity.

  • Torontoist notes that Toronto city police is trying to work on improving the relationship with Somali-Canadians after the recent raid.

  • Towleroad notes that late gay writer John Preston has given the Maine city of Portland a new slogan.

  • The Volokh Conspiracy talks about rising nationalism among Burmese Buddhists. Sadly, many commenters talk about how Muslims must be controlled.

  • Window on Eurasia notes the ongoing demographic issues of Russia and Belarus.
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Notwithstanding the survival of sectarian representation in the provincial legislative assembly into the 1990s, and of informally religiously segregated schools into the 1980s, at least by the time I was born Prince Edward Island's historic of sectarian religious conflict wasn't spoken of. A 2006 paper of an Island acquaintance of mine originally published in 2006 in the CCHA Historical Studies journal, Ryan O'Connor, explores one noteworthy manifestation of these tensions I'd not heard of, the attack on the Orange Order headquarters in Charlottetown in 1877. The essay's title? "'…you can beat us in the House of Assembly but you can’t beat us in the street': The Symbolic Value of Charlettown’s Orange Lodge Riot".

Such [sectarian] violence long bypassed Prince Edward Island. While the neighbouring colonies had all suffered through similar experiences, the diminutive colony of 94,021 entered the 1870s relatively unscathed by such eruptions. This absence of denominational violence is especially intriguing given the colony’s religious makeup: fifty-five per cent Protestant, forty-five per cent Roman Catholic. Such an evenly matched population, one might suspect, would lend itself to the violence endemic elsewhere. However, notes historian Ian Ross Robertson, the “surprising circumstances for a colony so evenly divided was the dearth of religious hostilities.”

Such a peaceful co-existence would not last. On 12 July 1877 the Island’s record of religious non-violence came to a dramatic end when the Charlottetown headquarters of the Loyal Orange Order, its members just returned from a day of recreation, bore the brunt of an angry mob. Why did this unfortunate action occur? Why, thirty years after the peak of Orange-Green conflict in British North America did such an event transpire in Charlottetown?


At one point, O'Connor notes, Catholic-Protestant tensions were bridged by the common opposition of Islanders to the bizarre system of absentee land tenure that saw absentee landlords own all land and maintain tenants. That the conflicts following the collapse of this pre-modern landholding system suggests that, on the Island as elsewhere, ethnic tensions were worsened by modernization. Here, the creation of a publicly funded school system that at one point included Bible readings in the Protestant tradition without comparable representation from Roman Catholicism was key.

From 1856 to 1877 the Island was beset with politico-religious conflict during which the Roman Catholic minority repeatedly failed to have its interests acted upon. Despite spirited Catholic protests, legislation was passed in 1860 that made Scripture readings a mandatory part of a schoolteacher’s job. In the ensuing years, despite the Catholic population’s repeated efforts, the government failed to legislate funding for sectarian schools. This effort died in 1876 when Premier Davies enshrined the non-sectarian nature of the school system in the Prince Edward Island Education Act.

The one victory that the Roman Catholics could boast of would turn sour. Having successfully petitioned the Duke of Newcastle to disallow the Orange Incorporation Act of 1863, this manoeuvre galvanized the Protestant community and led to a rapid expansion of Order lodges. A powerful lobby group that represented all that the papists were not, the Orange Order were an obvious target for Catholic aggression.

The timing of the Charlottetown lodge’s attack is also significant. The centrepiece of the Orange calendar, 12 July marks the annual commemoration of King William’s seventeenth-century victory over Catholic forces at the Boyne. This event represents a claim of Protestant supremacy wherever it is celebrated. Charlottetown’s Catholics would have greeted this annual event with disdain; however, there is no record of violence in the city on this day prior to 1877. Having recently lost the conclusive battle for sectarian education, the culmination of twenty years of public conflict, it appears that by 1877 members of the Charlottetown Catholic community could no longer take reminders of their subjugation without action. That one of the riot’s instigators, Nicholas Collins, was quoted as saying “Damn you, you can beat us in the House of Assembly, but you can’t beat us in the street,” testifies to this connection between political frustration and public action.


And it was overlooked:

Although the 1877 riot was a significant event in the history of Prince Edward Island, it has long been overlooked. A survey of relevant literature reveals only four items that discuss the riot. The first published was Reverend John C. Macmillan’s History of the Catholic Church in Prince Edward Island from 1835 to 1891. While it provides useful insight into the Church’s response to the violence, this partisan account of the riot contradicts contemporary testimony. Andrew Robb’s “Rioting in 19th Century P.E.I.,” summarizes the events of 12 July 1877 in three paragraphs. Likewise, Boyde Beck’s light-hearted Prince Edward Island: An Unauthorized History handles the event in a similarly superficial manner. Anecdotal rather than academic, these works explain what happened on the day in question, but fail to provide insight into why the riot occurred. More significantly the leading academic text on nineteenth-century Prince Edward Island, the Francis W.P. Bolger edited Canada’s Smallest Province, does not mention the Orange Order’s existence. Nonetheless, the book does help shed light on the religio-politico tensions that dominated Island society between 1856-1877, especially as they impacted local elections. However, coverage of “the elemental animosity [that emerged] between [the] Protestant and Catholic” population is largely a backdrop to the book’s central focus – Prince Edward Island’s entry into Canada in 1873. The riot at the Orange lodge is not mentioned in an academic text until Brendan O’Grady’s Exiles and Islanders: The Irish Settlers of Prince Edward Island was released in 2004. Handling the event in three pages, O’Grady connects the event to the tensions between Irish Catholics and the Orange Order elsewhere, but does not establish a local context that explains why the riot occurred.


It's true that a community is defined by what it chooses not to remember at least as much as by what it chooses to keep in active memory.

Read the entire essay: O'Connor did great work.
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I blogged before about the strength of the Orange Order locally in Toronto. Canadian Orange Ordeer was surpriusingly strong, and as this study of the distribution of Orange Order members worldwide shows, Ontario was quite prominent.

Canadian (including Newfoundland) membership exceeded that in Ireland by the turn of the century, despite having a similar Protestant population base. Canadian membership peaked in 1920, at which time Canada accounted for almost sixty percent of international membership (if we exclude the smaller jurisdictions of the United States, Australasia and Eire it is 61.6 percent). The Canadian lodges also had twice the membership of their Northern Irish counterparts at this point! Sharp membership decline in much of Canada outside Newfoundland in the 1920-38 period reduced the Canadian advantage so that by the end of the Second World War, Northern Ireland had edged ahead of Canada. The 'Ulsterization' of the Order continues to this day with over 60 percent of members now based in Northern Ireland. The Canadian organization has experienced such heavy decline that there is now little difference in size between the Scottish, English and Canadian branches of the organization!

In Canadian terms, Ontario, New Brunswick and Newfoundland have been the leading Orange provinces. Yet New Brunswick's prominence belongs more to the nineteenth than the twentieth century. Its 11 percent share of Canadian membership in 1901 had declined to six percent by 1918. In the 1918-25 period, New Brunswick's membership was again cut in half, and it never recovered. On the other hand, Ontario and Newfoundland generally comprised around three-quarters of the membership in the twentieth century, though Newfoundland became increasingly important after World War II and now makes up half the Canadian membership (5).


At the beginning of the 20th century, Ontarians constituted two-thirds of the membership of the Orange Order in Canada. Here in Toronto, the Orange Order was visible at the level of municipal government--all of Toronto's mayors were members for decades--and in the neighbourhood level, for instance in Cabbagetown as described in one account. This Anglo-Celtic neighbourhood, substantially Irish but mixed between Roman Catholic Irish and Protestants of various British background, was riven.

Inherently linked both with the politics and the dominant sentiments of this society was the Orange Order. A recent work on the Order in Canada, by Cecil Houston and William Smyth, demonstrates that its membership was widespread across later Victorian Toronto, with lowest density in the upper class residential tracts of Jarvis Street and Rosedale, but highest density in Cabbagetown. No doubt the numerous Ulster Irish in that neighbourhood had much to do with the case. Yet Houston and Smyth confirm that the Order drew widely on English and Scottish stocks also, and it had strong followings in all three major Toronto Protestant churches-Anglican, Methodist and Presbyterian, especially the first two-which were also the largest in Cabbagetown. Smaller Protestant denominations like Baptists or Lutherans were much less evident in Orangeism; as they were again in Cabbagetown. At the same time, the Order crossed class lines and kept a substantial middle-class component, even if the bulk of its members came from the lower classes.

Orange lodges pervaded the district, but a main meeting-place for their members was the eastern Orange Hall on Queen Street. Here was a forum for their views on public issues, and a headquarters for political transactions. The Orange vote in Toronto mattered municipally, provincially and federally. Orangemen were perennial among civic politicians and plentiful in city employment, whether at City Hall, the works department or in the police force, for all of which Cabbagetown residents offered a goodly quota. It is unnecessary, however, to view this as some dark conspiratorial net, a King Billy underground. Orange ties, for better or worse, operated pretty openly; and it would have been hard to impugn the respectability of the Order' s stands on British loyalty and Protestant freedom to majority Toronto then.

Cabbagetowners marched on the Orange celebration day, July 12, but almost as virtuously as in a temperance or trades union parade. Granted there long were fights and uproars in Toronto associated with the Glorious Twelfth or Hibernian St. Patrick's Day, still, violence chiefly occurred in more turbulent and crowded areas of the city. For our neighbourhood, Orangeism broadly implied order rather than disorder.

Furthermore, it has well been pointed out that Toronto's denser residential districts really contained religious admixtures, and there were no great separate, terraced confines of either Protestants or Catholics as in Belfast, mass citadels for religious warfare. In Cabbagetown, assuredly, Protestants had many Catholic street neighbours; the converse was equally true in adjacent, prevalently Catholic Cork Town south of Queen Street and on below King Street. There was not the same tight territorial basis for major sectarian combat. Sparring there might be, as when an Orange band trumpetted and coat-trailed into a largely Catholic street; yet this local version of "chicken" was a fairly minor fringe sport. The Cabbagetown community then was not an ethno-religious enclave-for all its Orange display-or a politically sequestered compound.


(The above account was written in 1984.)

And then the Orange Order began to fall apart, as Torontoist's Jamie Bradburn wrote last September. The old British order fell apart.

For the first half of the twentieth century, one prerequisite to be a serious contender for the mayor’s chair in Toronto was membership in good standing with the Orange Order. As 1954 dawned, it didn’t appear that the situation would change much: Orangeman Allan Lamport had won a third term and the challenger most likely to run against or in place of him that December, Leslie Saunders, was a high-ranking official in the Order. Yet 1954 wound up being the beginning of the end of Orange dominance over civic affairs, thanks partly to a series of snafus by Saunders. The municipal election of 1954 not only proved a key element in breaking the Order’s hold, but showed that antagonizing the press wasn’t a good idea and that you didn’t have to be Protestant to take the mayor’s chair, even if it took you three efforts.

Our story begins at the Toronto Transit Commission, where the combination of an expanded administrative board and the death of Chairman W.C. O’Brien left several key vacancies. Sensing the prospects of steadier employment with the TTC than at the whim of voters, Mayor Lamport resigned from office in June to make himself available as a candidate for O’Brien’s job (he wound up as Vice-Chairman when William G. Russell won the top spot). On June 29, Saunders, a veteran member of the Board of Control who was serving as president of City Council, assumed the mayoralty amid general respect for his abilities as an administrator.

Saunders’s honeymoon was short-lived. Shortly after assuming office, Saunders was also named Deputy Grand Master of the Orange Lodge, just in time for the annual Orange parade in early July to celebrate William III’s victory at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690. Saunders decided the parade would be the perfect opportunity to issue a statement to Torontonians "reminding them of their British heritage" by stressing how important that the battle was as a victory for democratic and religious freedoms for all (even if some of faiths were deemed less worthy than others). Amid its glorification of the Orange Order, the statement requested citizens "to thank God for those whose courage against wrong hastened the dawn of freedom," and compared the triumph of Protestants over Catholics to more recent victories against "the Hun, the Nazi and the Fascist." One problem: Saunders issued the statement on official city stationery.

To Catholic councillors and other Orangemen in the city government whose views were less fervent than Saunders, the statement was received like an intolerant slap against citizens who weren’t connected to the Order. Controller David Balfour felt that the mayor should represent all faiths; in response, local Orange Order Secretary B.G. Louden challenged the Catholic Balfour to run for mayor. Saunders did not apologize for issuing the statement. "I’m proud," he said, "to be able to make a statement of this kind to the people of Toronto on this great day in Orange history." His statement did not find favour among the press, whose views were best summed by an editorial in the Telegram which noted that "the only rivers that Leslie Saunders is expected to concern himself with as Mayor of Toronto are the Don and the Humber."

Watching from the sidelines was former city councillor Nathan Phillips, who was taking a rest from elected office after a quarter of a century as an alderman and two unsuccessful mayoral runs against Lamport in 1951 and 1952. As controversy about Saunders’s statement grew, Phillips was contacted by Star reporter Bob McDonald to see if he would consider a third run for the mayor’s chair. Phillips decided he would, but only if his wife supported another run (she did) and if he could secure more newspaper support beyond the Star, which had backed his previous campaigns. He soon contacted Telegram publisher John Bassett, who indicated that Phillips could soon tell anyone he "damned well pleased" that he had Bassett’s full support. That Phillips was Jewish would make for an interesting angle in editorials in all of the city’s papers criticizing Saunders for trying to provoke religious strife. Upon hearing of Phillips’s entry, Saunders told the press on July 10 that when all the ballots were counted, he would be "be sitting right where I am now."


As it happened, the Jewish Nathan Phillips ended up being elected mayor in 1955, notwithstanding said decidedly non-Orange Order ethnoreligious background, heralding the transition of Toronto from a city where Irish Canadians constituted a somewhat stigmatized minority to one where Irish is just another flavour of the increasingly broad and at least somewhat less relevant category of "white". Would Toronto have handled the shift as well if the Orange Order had stayed in power longer?
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A couple of days ago, as if thinking of my most recent post on ethnic conflict in Canada, Torontoist's Kevin Plummer had an interesting post up there part of their Historicist series, "Orangemen and The Glorious Twelfth of July".

Nowadays, the Orange Order is thought of as a quaint anachronism, a benevolent society that marches every twelfth of July to commemorate the victory of William III at the Battle of the Boyne. But the Protestant fraternal organization once had a stranglehold on power in Toronto, and its subjugation of Irish Catholics gave the parade on every "Glorious Twelfth" an ominous undercurrent of potential violence. While Toronto's municipal affairs were never as corrupt as elsewhere, the Orange Order operated as a de facto political machine throughout the nineteenth century. Between 1845 and 1900, all but three of Toronto's twenty-three mayors and countless city councillors were members of an Orange Lodge. Protestant principles and moral order, as espoused by the Order, were synonymous with good governance and permeated the city's culture. Moreover, the city council's control over patronage ensured that fellow lodge members filled the civic administration, municipal utilities, and even, for a time, the police and fire departments.

[. . .]

The deep Protestant flavour to city life made "The Belfast of Canada," as Toronto was nicknamed, anything but hospitable to the great influx of Irish Catholic immigrants who arrived in the wake of the Great Famine. Despite their population growing from about 2,000 in the 1840s to 12,135 (or over 27% of the total population) in the 1860s, Irish Catholics could find only unskilled factory work that offered little opportunity to escape the appalling conditions of the slum neighbourhoods of Corktown and Cabbagetown. As local historian Bruce Bell described it: "To be Irish and Catholic at the height of Victorian Toronto meant menial work with no promise of advancement."


Wikipedia observes, accurately, that the Orange Order had become a major influence in Ontario's public life, managing to convince Prime Minister Sir John A. MacDonald to hang Louis Riel in 1885 on charges of treason else risk losing the Orange Order vote.

Eventually, Plummer goes on to conclude, the shift of city politics away from issues of personality to questions of day-to-day bureaucratic management, Irish Catholics no longer particularly stand out, and neighbourhoods like Corktown and Cabbagetown are fast gentrifying. Still, there's a commenter at Torontoist who defends the glorious fredeoms of the Glorious revolution against the people who respect an authoritarian pope. I guess that some thinks do manage to hang around.
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