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What’s ideology got to do with it? : race & class discourses in social studies education Orlowski, Paul Michael 2004

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WHAT'S IDEOLOGY GOT TO DO WITH IT? R A C E & C L A S S D I S C O U R S E S IN SOCIAL STUDIES EDUCATION by PAUL MICHAEL ORLOWSKI B.Eng., Carleton University, 1982 M.A., The University of British Columbia, 1997 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE R E Q U I R E M E N T S FOR THE D E G R E E OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in T H E F A C U L T Y OF G R A D U A T E STUDIES (The Centre for Cross-Faculty Inquiry in Education) We accept this thesis as conforming -tc-Jhe required standard THE UNIVERSITY OKBRITISH COLl f MBIA September 2004 © Paul Michael Orlowski 2004 11 Abstract This study examines ways in which political ideology influences discourses of race and social class in the formal curriculum and teacher att i tudes in social studies education. More specif ical ly, the study determined how elements of conservative, l iberal, and radical ideologies a f f ec t discourses around race, social class, democracy and citizenship. The study drew on two data sources: all seven versions of the formal social studies curriculum used in Bri t ish Columbia's high schools f rom 1941 to the present; and transcripts f rom interviews with current social studies department heads in ten high schools in Vancouver, Br i t ish Columbia. Critical discourse analysis was used to analyze both data sources. The interview transcr ipts were also analyzed using an interpretation of meaning approach. The study demonstrates that the Br i t ish Columbia curriculum evolved f rom a conservative document to one influenced by liberalism. The early curriculum guides were essentially conservative. The 1956,1968, and 1980 versions indicated oscillation between these two ideologies. The 1988 and 1997 versions were completely dominated by liberalism. Over this time period, conservative depictions of non-white peoples that were overtly racist t ransformed to liberal representations in a pluralist multicultural framework. Social class issues were always presented f rom the standpoint of capital in the conservative versions of the curriculum, while subsequent liberal versions almost completely ignored social class representation. The treatment of democracy and citizenship evolved f rom conservative to liberal conceptions. Radical elements were almost completely absent f rom any curricular documents. The study revealed that ideology influences teacher att i tudes toward issues of race, class, democracy and citizenship. In general, liberalism was the most dominant ideology. Conservative discourses, however, appeared more than in the formal curriculum. Teachers invoked radical discourses only rarely. The liberal cultural def ic i t discourse was used by the majority to explain d i f ferences in academic proficiency along axes of race and class. Conservative genet ic-def ic i t discourses appeared about as frequently as radical discourses that focused on unfair structural problems. The teachers were evenly divided in their use of conservative and liberal discourses about democracy and citizenship. Recommendations were made to al ter social studies curriculum and teacher education programs to re f lec t social just ice aims f rom a radical perspective. Ill TABLE OF CONTENTS Abst rac t ii Acknowledgements vi Chapter 1: Introduction 1 Overview 2 The Social Positionality of Paul Orlowski 8 Rationale 11 Chapter 2: A Conceptual Framework fo r the Study 18 Ideology 18 Modernity 22 The Political Ideologies of Modernity 24 Liberalism 24 Socialism 27 Conservatism A Nationalism 29 Postmodernist Critiques of Modernity's Ideologies 32 Ideology Today 35 Discourse 36 Hegemony 41 Social Jus t ice 48 Chapter 3: Methodology and Methods 54 A Textual Analysis of Curriculum 55 Background Theory 55 The Role of the School <& Political Ideology 55 Curriculum & Political Ideology 59 Methodology fo r the Analysis of the Curriculum 64 Methodological Issues with Interviewing Teachers 68 Issues with the Interview Method 69 Recruiting Participants 72 The Participants 74 Data Analysis Issues 76 The Interview Questions 84 On Language 88 iv Chapter 4: Bri t ish Conservatism and B.C.'s F i rs t School Curriculum 91 The Precolonial Period 93 The Colonial Period: 1849 to 1871 95 B.C. and the Nation-Building Period: 1871 to the 1920s 112 B.C., Nation-Building A Social Class 114 Conservatism, Race <& the Law: 1871 to the 1920s 119 Party Politics & Race in B.C.: 1871 to the 1920s 126 Race, Nation-Building A the Role of Education 128 Education During B.C.'s Colonial Period 128 Education During the Nation-Building Period 129 Conclusions 132 Chapter 5: Race: From Unabashed Whi te Supremacy to Insidious Eurocentrism 134 Ideology and Racial Discourses 134 Ideology and Multiculturalism 138 Ideology in B.C.'s Social Studies Curriculum and Issues of Race 142 Ideology and How Teachers View Issues of Race 158 Racial Discourses Used by the Teachers 159 Versions of Multiculturalism Influencing the Teachers 173 Summary and Conclusion 187 Chapter 6: The Forgotten Ident i ty Marker - What Curriculum and Teachers Say About Social Class - Not Much! 195 Discourses of Social Class 200 Ideology and Discourses of Class in B.C.'s Social Studies Curriculum 207 Ideology and Discourses of Working-Class /Academic Performance 219 How Teachers View Issues of Social Class & Working-Class Students 224 How Teachers Think About Social Class 224 How Teachers Think About Streaming 234 How Teachers Think About Teaching Social C\ass Issues 240 Summary and Conclusion 248 V Chapter 7: Democracy: The Curricular Ideal Versus the Classroom Reality 254 Ideology, Democracy and the Cit izen 254 Ideology and Competing Visions of Democracy and Citizenship 261 Ideology and Discourses of Democracy <& Citizenship in B.C.'s Social Studies Curriculum 265 How Teachers Think about Democracy, Citizenship, and Related Concepts 277 Teachers' Thoughts on the Purpose of Social Studies 278 Teachers' Thoughts on Democracy and Citizenship 281 Teachers' Thoughts on Teaching fo r Social Jus t ice 286 Summary and Conclusion 294 Chapter 8: Conclusions 298 Findings 301 Ideology and the Curriculum 302 Ideology and the Teachers' Thoughts 305 Implications fo r Social Studies Education 311 Implications for the Social Studies Curriculum 312 Implications fo r Social Studies Teacher Education 315 Methodological Considerations 319 A Few Final Words 321 List of Tables Participating Head Teachers of Social Studies Departments 75 References 322 Appendix 1: Interview Questions 337 VI Acknowledgements It goes without saying that I had an enormous amount of support in order to complete this study. This support came to me in various forms. Without getting poetic, I w i l l mention this group of compassionate, generous, thoughtful and insightful people. A s a fulltime teacher in Vancouver high schools, I would like to extend my gratitude to three wonderful administrators who supported me over the past five years: Lynn Green, Mary Daniel, and Pat Mitchel l . Among other things, I needed their support to get two 3-month leaves from my teaching position so that I could focus on the actual writing of the dissertation. I would like to thank the Vancouver School Board for allowing me to do the study and for granting me the two leaves (one a paid leave). I also extend warm thanks to the 10 teachers who participated. In terms of academic and scholarly support, I wish to thank the following group of professors who, either in courses and seminars or in various projects, contributed to me getting to this place: Peter Seixas, John Will insky, Leslie Roman, Karen Meyer, Don Fisher, Frank Echols, Gaby Minnes Brandes, Charles Menzies, and Jean Barman. (I also appreciated Charles' friendship during this period.) Graham Smith and Wayne Ross appeared late in the journey -both were excellent university examiners. A l l three members of my supervisory committee were truly super advisors: Jean Barman, Lisa Loutzenheiser, and, of course, my actual advisor, Deirdre Ke l ly . Deirdre also demonstrated an acute talent in scholarly-and-therapeutic support, an approach that was instrumental in helping me to complete this project, from start to finish. M y friends were outstanding in various ways, be it in letting me contact them wherever they were and at whatever time of day or night it was, simply to allow me to wax and wane in a not very rhapsodic manner, somehow knowing that this was essential i f I was to finish. This group includes Stephen Madigan, Tom Yungwirth, Lois Sanford, Josh Berson, Bruce Gaines, Hol ly Tracy, Jack Buksbaum, Andrew Cash, K i m Scott, Col in Sanders, Wendy Mi lne , and my sister Sarah. Thank you everyone. Deirdre K e l l y must also appear on this list of people who I w i l l always appreciate - her warm words of wisdom never fell on deaf ears. Thank you, Deirdre. I have to finish by thanking from the bottom of my heart those dear people who had to endure living with a bear of a man at times (many times!) over the years: Lois Sanford, her son Haley, and, of course, my beautiful daughter Katrina. I think baritone folk singer Greg Brown describes this scenario best on Slant 6Mind(1997): Like an ol'grizzly down in his den, snortin' and a growlin' andpacin' around. Thank you, everybody!! 1 Chapter 1 Introduction [T]here is a general tendency fo r educators to avoid talks [sic] of ideology. I t is not uncommon that one is labeled "ideological" when confronted by-someone whose opinions d i f fe r f rom his own. (Leonardo, 2003, p. 204) We live in a society in which we are constantly being inundated with differing views on almost all aspects of life, be they social, political, or economic. O f course, sometimes some people agree with some of these views; at other times, they are fiercely opposed. This is the same situation with the ways people respond to their actual lived experience. Most often, opposition to certain aspects of their lived experience leads people to envision a different way to experience life, or a different version of the ideal society. Some who desire change actually attempt to do something about it. A l l three of these components - critique, ideal, and agency - comprise what I am referring to as ideology. Ideology is involved in all aspects of our social, political, and economic lives to such an extent that it is located everywhere. Yet, at the same time it is very difficult to detect, working in very insidious and influential ways. Ideology affects the ways we view each other and all of the institutions we have created, including the institution of the public education system. A l l sides in debates about school funding, teacher accountability, curricular content, and the role of the school itself, to state only a few examples, are steeped in ideology. (Note: Chapter 2 w i l l explicate in detail how I am using ideology throughout this entire study.) Yet, one of the great omissions in the multitude of current debates about public education is the role of political ideology itself. In western nations like Canada, these battles are most often waged between various conservatives, liberals, and radical socialists. I f one were to examine the ways the mainstream media portray these struggles and debates, however, they would discover that the entire notion of ideology is rarely mentioned. Moreover, these ideological conflicts are not new. 2 In fact, public education has been the site of competing ideologies ever since its inception in the 1870s in British Columbia (Barman, 1991), and earlier in other parts of North America (Axelrod, 1997; Tyack & Cuban, 1995; Kliebard, 1986). These struggles are often around the values schools promote and what role the teacher should take on. Schools inculcate students with a set of diverse and sometimes contradictory values in myriad ways. Social studies is an obvious source of values; yet, even within this discipline, there are numerous and diverse ways in which young people are taught to perceive the world. These values and ways of seeing are influenced by political ideology, whether the public, the teachers, or the students are aware of it. Rarely is it explained outside of academic journals the role that political ideology has played and continues to play in the formulation of educational policy in general, and curriculum in particular. The research described here examines the ways that political ideology is infused within the field of social studies education, specifically within the public secondary schools of Vancouver, British Columbia. 1.1 Overview Several years ago, in my role as a teacher in an east-end, working-class Vancouver high school, I was walking across the campus with about a dozen of my grade 12 students when one of them, unaware of my presence, yelled out to some grade 8 students of East Asian ancestry, "Go home, ya immigrants!" The subsequent conversation he and I had did nothing to quell the disturbing feelings I had when he first demonstrated his racial prejudice. This student was quite strident in his opinions of East Asian people living in Vancouver, namely, that they were taking potential jobs away from Caucasian people like him, jobs that rightfully belonged to him and others like him so that they might enjoy a higher standard of living. A s it turned out, many White, working-class youth were 3 feeling threatened by the proximity of so many Asian people. Indeed, many were worried about their futures, both economically and socially. The common response was to accept the values and political ideology of a populist right-wing social and political movement, one that is attempting to gain power in Canada and the same one that has resulted in three of the last four American presidents. To a very large extent, this conservative movement is being fuelled by an attitude of White defensiveness. In doing the research for my Master's thesis, I documented a clear link between racist attitudes and economic concerns (Orlowski, 2001a). This was a critical ethnographic study examining the ways 25 working-class youth from five different racial groups perceived racism and economic inequality. Most of the racist attitudes that surfaced during the study were rooted in economic concerns. Although the First Nations participants exhibited a more sophisticated understanding of the forms of racism, and the adolescents of East Indian ancestry could speak to the unfair labour practices inherent in capitalism, there was clearly a lack of class awareness among almost all o f them. To a large degree, it appears that the salience of social class issues is a factor in working-class racism. In Making Whiteness: The Culture of Segregation in the South, 1890-1940, Grace Hale (1998) explains how in the southern United States the privileged Whites benefited materially by emphasizing White supremacy and ignoring class concerns in both the mainstream media and in popular culture. This strategy resulted in duping working-class Whites to accept a lower standard of living in exchange for knowing that Black people were having an even more difficult time. Indeed, African American educator Cameron McCarthy (1993) claims that in American schools "the emancipation of the minority individual is fulfilled when he or she becomes a good capitalist" (p. 293). Cit ing social studies in particular, McCarthy questions how students from marginalized groups enter school without a class consciousness and finish school without one either. For McCarthy this is a crucial point as to how the tensions between working-class Whites and Blacks have been allowed to exist for 4 so long in American society. In the Canadian context, racial demographics differ from the Black/White binary common to a large portion of American research, but the same point can be made here. It is my contention that i f an awareness of social class issues were to increase among Canadian citizens, then there would be more understanding between social groups, increased racial tolerance, and most likely less racism. The two main sources of information in our society are the mainstream media and the public school system. If a recent Globe & Mail headline is correct when it claimed, "It's not Canadians who've gone to the right, just their media" (Martin, 2003, p. A8) , then is it the responsibility of educators to create a counterbalance by moving to a more progressive stance? A s a veteran educator, I contend that it is incumbent upon teachers and curriculum to acknowledge the media's shift to laissez faire economics and, to a lesser degree, social conservatism. This makes sense even for those who want to maintain the status quo. After all , virtually all of the struggles surrounding public education since its inception can be seen as a never-ending clash between those who see the role of the school as inculcating the young with the dominant societal values in an attempt at assimilation and those who see the school as the potential vehicle for progressive social change. Despite the obstacles, I side with those who look to schools to plant the seeds for a more socially just society. If emancipation for everyone is to be the ideal, then we need an informed and critical public. I understand why the Marxist-informed structuralist Louis Althusser (1971) considered the school to be part of the ideological state apparatus, and for much of the history of public education this has been the case. Yet, at the same time, I cannot conceive of a better place to develop counter-hegemonic discourses than the public school classroom, more specifically the social studies classroom. 5 I have been a front-line teacher in B . C . high schools for 18 years, most of them spent in the working-class multiracial schools of east Vancouver. Yet, this study is not about those 18 years; rather, it is best seen as an extension of my experience as a teacher. This study is an attempt to locate and analyze areas in public education that hinder a collective awareness from growing, one that weds progressive cultural initiatives with a call for redistributing the wealth. The focus of this study is on the ways in which schools further entrench or work to deconstruct social hierarchies that are based on race and social class. More specifically, the research examines the ways in which political ideology has influenced and continues to influence discourses of race and social class in both the formal social studies curriculum and in the attitudes of veteran social studies teachers. M y analysis of ideology has been informed by the politics that emerged during the birth of Modernity and the American and French revolutions. Therefore, the political ideologies that I use as the analytical frame for this study are conservatism, liberalism, and socialism. M y own study can be seen as coming out of the optimistic vision first espoused within classic liberalism, namely, emancipation for all . I am influenced more profoundly by its spin-off ideology, socialism. The major thinkers of early liberalism - Jeremy Bentham, Alexis de Tocqueville, John Stuart M i l l , to name but a few - heralded the potential of the universal subject. Early socialist ideology, as espoused by Kar l Marx, diverged from this path by splitting the universal subject along social class lines, into bourgeoisie and proletariat, capitalist and worker. Marx has been rightly criticized for ignoring gender and race issues. That said, I do not wish to throw out the entire Marxist project; rather, socialist ideology can be greatly strengthened by incorporating the concerns inherent within the various strands of feminism, anti-racism, and environmentalism. In other words, the impetus for this project is borne out of a conviction that this project of emancipation for all is unfinished but one very much worth pursuing. 6 The research is part of a much larger project led by Deirdre Ke l ly at the University of British Columbia. Located within the burgeoning field of Teaching for Social Justice, the overall goal of the main project is to describe ways in which veteran teachers of social studies and English understand what teaching for social justice means and pedagogical and assessment strategies they might employ to realize social justice aims (Brandes & Kel ly , 2000; Ke l ly & Brandes, 2001; Ke l ly , Brandes, & Orlowski, 2004). The social justice aspect I explored in this study is reflected by the interview questions (see Appendix 1). The major research question for the study is: How has political ideology influenced discourses of race and class in both the formal curriculum and teacher att i tudes in social studies education? Framing the study around discourses of race and class is not to suggest their primacy as axes of oppression. I contend that the categories of gender, sexuality, and ableism are equally important to study. I focused on race and social class and not the others in order to attain a sensible length for the final dissertation, as well as to build upon the research I began with my M A . Moreover, other members of the team led by Ke l ly are researching various forms of oppression that may be exacerbated in and through schooling. M y study can be divided into three distinct areas of research. The common thread running through all three sections is the focus on the role political ideology has played and continues to play in social studies education. (I am interested, of course, in how the influence of ideology in the schools gets translated into societal social relations, but this particular research can only help fuel speculation.) M y analysis of the influence of political ideology in social studies education includes major discourses that have been employed to further entrench privilege for the privileged at the expense of the Other. A l l three research areas - race, social class, and democracy - examine the role of curriculum and teacher attitudes as hegemonic devices that serve to maintain the status quo. A s 7 well, both the curriculum and teacher attitudes w i l l be examined in order to understand their roles in fostering counter-hegemonic discourses of resistance. First, the historical record provides the evidence for how a form of Whiteness - more accurately seen as a middle-class conservative "Britishness" - came to dominate the region now called British Columbia. It highlights the strategies the privileged employed in order to make British (and White) supremacy, capitalism, and Christianity seem both inevitable and natural to many of the inhabitants of the region. This part of the research focuses on legal, political, economic, and educational aspects of privileging some at the expense of others. Although it examines the role of public education in affecting social hierarchies during the nation-building period in only a cursory fashion, it provides the context for the subsequent sections that pertain solely to social studies education in British Columbia. The second research area in this study is the actual B . C . social studies curriculum itself. Beginning with the B . C . Department of Education's Annual Reports in 1926-27 and the government prescribed social studies curricula that were first published in 1941, this part of the analysis examines these documents for the ways in which racial and class concerns were represented or ignored over time. In order to determine how political ideology has influenced social studies curriculum over time (i.e., from 1926 until the present), a type of discourse analysis is employed in this aspect of the research, as well . Third, a series of interviews with the head teachers of social studies departments in ten Vancouver high schools provides another source of data in order to determine the influence of political ideology in social studies education in B . C . The interview questions reflect both my own focus on teacher attitudes toward issues of race and social class and the overall project that my study is a part of, namely, the ways in which veteran educators think about teaching for social justice 8 (Appendix 1). The analysis of both data sources, namely, the formal curriculum and the teacher interviews, w i l l be presented in chapters 5, 6, and 7. A t this point, it is prudent to describe my own social positionality, as this has undoubtedly affected the research itself. 1.2 The Social Positionality of Paul Orlowski M y use of the term positionality involves the idea that people from differing social backgrounds often have different ways of perceiving the world, constructing knowledge, and making meaning. In other words, each individual's social positionality is influenced by the social groups to which they belong, either by birth or by choice. A person's experience is central to their positionality. A s well , one's positionality is always in relation to others. In other words, a person's experience combines with other attributes, either ascribed or socially constructed, to create their shifting positionality. In the case of this study, I am a veteran, white, male teacher in my mid-forties researching the perspectives of other veteran white male teachers either a few years older or a few years younger than me. Despite these similarities, each of our experiences are different, experiences that undoubtedly influence our ways of knowing and perceiving our world. Researchers must pay attention to these different ways of knowing. A s Deirdre K e l l y (2000) points out, a researcher's "beliefs, values and interests shape the topics and interpretive frameworks they select, the questions they ask, and the evidence they gather or co-produce" (p. 186). For example, I have an interest in this research because I am committed to working for social justice. I consider the public education system to be a source of hope, a site where it is possible for the seeds of social transformation to take root. Political ideologies affect the ways that I see and act in the world, of course. Moreover, my own social positionality undoubtedly leaves certain traces upon any text I produce, a process Edward Said (1979) so eloquently described in Orientalism. A s Ke l ly suggests, my role in framing the study, 9 how I conducted the interviews with colleagues, how I engaged in the data analysis, and how I drew the conclusions have been shaped by the values I hold onto, values that are from the ideologies that have influenced me. But why do some ideologies directly influence me while others do not? It's difficult to speculate as to why, but one thing for certain is that my own experience has been a factor. I grew up in the east end of Toronto in a neighbourhood filled with working-class European immigrants displaced by the Second World War and many working-class White Canadians who often resented our presence. Yet, despite these tensions, I was fortunate to be part of a generation who enjoyed the benefits of the social welfare state, including well-funded public education and healthcare systems. M y experience as the child of working-class immigrants l iving in a social welfare state was positive and clearly beneficial for me. I am concerned with the current trend toward privatization because I fear others from similar or less privileged backgrounds w i l l not have the opportunities I had. Consequently, I am a social democrat and tend to see the world through a progressive lens. Although I am a liberal on social issues, I feel a radical democratic socialist agenda is needed to deal with poverty in North America. In the past twenty years or so, I have become aware of the erosion of public institutions, and have often heard the mantra touted in today's Vancouver dailies that the solution is either to privatize or to develop private-public partnerships, that an infusion of corporate money w i l l help slow down the dismantling of the social welfare state. To me, this is nothing but a Faustian agreement; as such, I dismiss these P3s, as they have come to be called, as yet another way for shareholders to benefit from tax dollars, a policy to which I am politically opposed. After all , the gap between the wealthy and the poor has been steadily increasing since neoconservative and neoliberal discourses rose to prominence in the 1980s (Laxer, 1998, p. 5). During this same period, Canadian and American share-holding corporations have been paying less and less of the bulk of tax dollars {ibid, p. 10). 10 In terms of social justice, I believe that the Enlightenment with its liberal principles of equality and emancipation of all are noble goals that denoted a profound shift in European consciousness. Yet, I agree with Marx that liberalism is incapable of delivering on its promises. (The unequal distribution of wealth in Canada and the United States can lead me to no other conclusion.) But liberalism has been successful in one extremely important aspect of North American life, namely, inclusion and, by corollary, tolerance for difference. Because of the entrenchment of the liberal ideology within the Canadian mainstream, cultural struggles have been fairly successful for certain social groups. Indeed, liberalism has informed my own social views around difference. I agree with those contemporary conservatives who claim that liberalism is incapable of solving today's social problems. Yet, I completely disagree with their reasoning. The current blame-the-victim discourse I find inaccurate and quite repugnant. Nor do I believe that there was once a mythic period of bliss in North America that was ruined by feminists, trade unionists, c iv i l rights and visible minorities. Discourses of privatization and tax cuts are surprisingly effective in getting the support of those who are harmed by such policies. In order for the tide to turn against these regressive measures, counter-hegemonic discourses must find a way into the public's collective consciousness. Because the Canadian corporate media has moved so far to the right of mainstream public thought (Martin, 2003), I contend that it is left to public education to develop these counter-hegemonic discourses. A s a veteran teacher, I feel I have experienced some success in helping students reflect upon their worlds in critical ways, especially around race, class, gender, and sexuality issues. The social studies courses I teach are based in an ideological critique of our society, both past and present. Yet, as Leonardo points out (2004), "[i]deology critique is not merely criticism" (p. 14). M y focus is on helping to facilitate student learning of "the ways that capitalism discourages, at the structural level, a 11 materialist analysis of social life" (Leonardo, 2004, p. 14). Ideology critique, media literacy and other ways of deconstructing hegemonic discourses are pedagogical strategies I employ. Students are expected to understand the ideological positions posited by conservatives, liberals, and the radical left on both the social scale and the economic scale. A s well , they are expected to do a series of assignments and engage in discussions that highlight the inevitable tensions and contradictions within a capitalist, democratic society. M y pedagogical goal is to "assist students not only in becoming comfortable with criticism [of society], but adept at it" (Leonardo, 2004, p. 12). In my teaching experience, this has proven to be the best vehicle to enable students in my classes to become informed about current political debates, knowledgeable about the insidiousness of power, and aware of what is in their own best interests. This type of education holds great transformative potential. A t the least, it seems to me that many students in courses I have taught undergo a transformation along these lines. I know that I am not alone in believing in the capacity of public education to make it a better world for everyone. Indeed, John Dewey and early Social Reconstructionists like Harold Rugg and George Counts have left some sort of progressive legacy in public education circles, even in British Columbia. Their vision, like mine, is a Utopian vision, but one that I feel is worth striving for. There is no question that this stance has influenced this entire research project. Yet, my intentions have been to engage in good and respectful research. 1.3 Rationale Education, as part of the functions of the Sta te , is also an arena of social confl ict. (Carnoy & Levin, 1985, p. 27). This quote underlies much of my intellectual curiosity about this research project. It highlights the differing ideas various groups have with respect to the role of the school in society. On the one 12 hand, the school has had a long history of being a place where the inculcation of values, especially those espoused by the dominant groups, are presented in a palatable way, even as inevitable, to the fertile minds of the young (Apple, 1990; Tyack & Cuban, 1995; Barman, Sutherland, & Wilson, 1995). The quote further points to another position, however, that of the school being a place where the values presented to students do not necessarily reflect those of the privileged but those of the oppressed and disadvantaged (Apple, 1990; Connell, 1993; Ladson-Billings, 1994; Sleeter, 1996). Both positions are correct: the school has been used and is currently used to maintain the status quo; at the same time it is a site of resistance to the dominant discourses. This research is an attempt to gain a better understanding of the extent to which each position is reflected in the formal curriculum and in the teacher attitudes, particularly toward issues of race and social class. I believe this to be a matter of great importance; after all , the future w i l l be shaped by the outcome of these debates. Similar debates have occurred ever since the creation of public education in British Columbia in the 1870s (Barman, Sutherland, & Wilson, 1995), across Canada (Axelrod, 1997) and, indeed, in the United States (Tyack & Cuban, 1995; Kliebard, 1986). In recent decades conflicting ideas around the teaching of issues of race and ethnicity have resulted in the ever-burgeoning field of multicultural education. Yet, multicultural education is a contested term, its more popular forms often heavily criticized by conservatives and radicals alike. Indeed, even though the dominant forms of multicultural education in today's classrooms are hallmarks of liberalism, there is a lack of consensus about them even among liberals. Our society is in a state of great flux. The social welfare state itself is under threat as governments attempt to balance budgets and offer profit-making opportunities to entrepreneurs around healthcare, welfare and public education. There is compelling evidence that suggests North American social movements have resulted in increased recognition for various groups during the past 13 few decades (Razack, 1998; Fraser, 1997; Bannerji, 1995). This process is far from finished, of course. M y preferred vision is to see both increased recognition as well as a more progressive redistribution of wealth in our society. A s cliched as it may sound, I do not think it too much to ask for a world in which every person can live in dignity. In Achieving Our Country (1998), Richard Rorty expresses concern that the cultural and social gains made through the hard-fought struggles of identity politics over the past two decades are vulnerable to a quick dismantling as soon as right-wing populist movements have the opportunity. Six years after the publication of Rorty's book, we can see his fears are well-founded as the American president, George W . Bush, is threatening to end affirmative action programs, overturn the Roe vs. Wade Supreme Court decision of 1973, as well as block any attempts to allow gay people to legally marry in the United States. A t the same time that Bush is leading the attack on visible minorities, women, and gays, he has given enormous tax breaks to the wealthiest residents of the wealthiest country, despite the record-breaking deficit, numbers of homeless and unemployed, and people who cannot afford healthcare insurance. Indeed, although the situation in Canada is not quite as grave as it currently is in the United States, the gap between the rich and the poor is increasing (Laxer, 1998, p. 6) at the same time that racist attitudes appear to be on the rise. Progressive educators must be wary of the vulnerable state of Canadian social programs like publicly-owned healthcare and affirmative action and do their best to ensure they are not dismantled. They also must contend with forms of racism among youth, as well as throughout British Columbian society. It seems clear that there is a link between working-class economic insecurities and increasing racial tensions (Orlowski, 2001a). Does social studies have a role to play in dealing with these serious social issues? A s a veteran social studies teacher, I believe it has the potential to make some progressive changes in the 14 social relations of the province, to be the conduit for a transformation in the way that people view others from different racial, cultural and class backgrounds. This transformation is necessary i f we hope to make our society, dare I say our world, a more socially just place with less suffering than currently exists. A major obstacle to this idea is the number of people, many of them in powerful positions, who feel that the role of the school is to maintain the status quo. Conservatives in both Canada and the United States are claiming that multicultural reforms already in place are part of the root causes of societal problems such as illiteracy and group conflicts (Hirsch, 1987, 1996; Granatstein, 1999; Cheney, 1994). Indeed, the current right-wing attacks on public education are making it increasingly difficult to convince the public that progressive curricular reforms are necessary i f current social problems are to be addressed. There has been a long chorus of voices calling for public education to address social problems (Dewey, 1916; Kliebard, 1986; Tyack & Cuban, 1995; Osborne, 1991). H o w is this tension between competing visions for the school to be managed? The curriculum itself may provide at least part of the answer. In British Columbia, the social studies curricula are called the Integrated Resource Packages (IRPs). In the introductory section of the latest version, there is a clear statement addressing the tension between those who favour the status quo and those who want the school to emphasize critical thinking about social problems. It reads, "[t]he overarching goal of social studies is to develop thoughtful, responsible, active citizens who are able to acquire the requisite information to consider multiple perspectives and to make reasoned judgments" (BC Ministry of Education, Skills and Training, 1997, p. 1). Are teachers in B . C . emphasizing this aspect of social studies in their lessons? This study is an attempt to find an answer to this question. (It is noteworthy that even the use of the term multiple perspectives can be viewed as ideological. This w i l l be discussed in chapter 7.) 15 In recent years, a growing number of educators have called for schools to focus on teaching from a social justice perspective, no matter how daunting the obstacles (Kelly & Brandes, 2001; Cochran-Smith, 2001; Kumashiro, 2000; Greene, 1998; hooks, 1994; Connell, 1993; Curtis, Livingstone & Smaller, 1992; Apple, 1990). Are the schools capable of accomplishing such a task? After all , they have been rightly implicated as a powerful hegemonic device in the constructing of social hierarchies throughout western nations (Althusser, 1971; Stanley, 1995; Gikandi, 1996; Will insky, 1998). M y experience as a teacher in the public school system leads me to be more optimistic than an Althusserian-influenced perspective. Although I understand why some people dismiss the possibility of the same institution that helped make dominant the discourses of White supremacy, capitalism, and patriarchy now take on the task of deconstructing them, I feel that there is enough opportunity and autonomy on the part of the teacher to help foster critical thinking, resistance, and action. Many of the struggles around public education and the curriculum are struggles between competing political ideologies. The concept of ideology has been prominent in Marxist-informed analyses of social problems, especially throughout the industrialized nations of the west. Yet, according to Zeus Leonardo (2003), there have been only two major works focusing on political ideology in public education: Bowles & Gintis ' (1976) Schooling in Capitalist America and Michael Apple 's (1990) Ideology and Curriculum. O f course, there is a small but growing number of scholars in education who have used the concept of ideology to some extent to further critical social theory and pedagogy (Giroux, 1981, 1983; Wexler, 1987; McLaren, 1989; Sleeter, 1996; Ke l ly , Brandes & Orlowski, 2004). In Canada, the historian of education, K e n Osborne, has written extensively on the possibilities of reforming the teaching of history and citizenship from a democratic socialist perspective (1988, 1991). Sociologists of education such as Jean Anyon (1980) and Annette Lareau 16 (1989) have made important contributions to this research, albeit not overtly addressing political ideology. To the best of my knowledge, however, there has not been a study anywhere that examines the way conservatism, liberalism and socialist radicalism influence both the social studies curriculum and the attitudes of the teachers employed with teaching it. If I am wrong in this assertion, I know I am at least correct in claiming that a study such as this has not been done in British Columbia before now. The underlying assumptions for the analysis of this entire project are based upon the effects of the various political ideologies in social studies education. The official knowledge in the formal curricular documents is influenced by political ideology (Apple, 1990). The ways that teachers see the world and teach about the world are similarly steeped in ideology. Issues of race and social class are undoubtedly seen through ideological lenses. This project is an examination of the extent to which political ideology informs both the formal curriculum and, through interviews, the ways social studies teachers think about historical and contemporary issues of race and social class. Before discussing the data and the relevant scholarly literature I need to clarify the meanings I attribute to the most important theoretical concepts for this research, namely, ideology, discourse, hegemony, and social justice. Chapter 2 w i l l do this and provide the overall framework for the entire project. Chapter 3 is about the methodology as well as the methods I employed to do both the textual analysis of the formal curriculum and the analysis of the teacher interviews. After Chapter 3, the focus of the research is on the role of public education to support and maintain hierarchical social relations. Chapter 4 is historical in nature and w i l l provide context for the chapters that follow. It describes the way that White privilege, primarily from a pro-British perspective, was created and maintained in the new settler society that became British Columbia. In particular, the discourses that supported and maintained the imperialist project w i l l be examined. 17 Chapters 5, 6, and 7 focus on political ideology in the B . C . social studies IRPs and the attitudes of the teachers. A t the beginning of each of these chapters, I w i l l make a case for the importance of the category under consideration - race, social class, or democracy/citizenship - so that schools may be better utilized to help us achieve the society in which we would all like to live. These beginning sections w i l l also include the relevant scholarly literature and theory for the chapter. I w i l l re-address political ideology in each of these chapters, focusing in turn on conservative, liberal, and radical conceptions of race, social class, and democracy and citizenship. Interpretations of concepts vital to the overall project that arise in each chapter w i l l also be described at each chapter's beginning. Each of these chapters w i l l include data analysis of the two sources, namely, the formal curriculum and the teacher interviews. The first formal social studies curriculum was in British Columbia was published in 1941. The study begins in 1926, however, as the Department of Education's year-end exams provide a source for what the teachers were expected to cover. (Note: the 1926 exams were the earliest ones I was able to locate.) Six subsequent curriculums were published, with the latest version of social studies curriculum appearing in 1997. A l l versions were analyzed for the political ideology or ideologies that influenced the curriculum developers. Chapters 5, 6, and 7 w i l l also explore the teachers' attitudes around these same issues, each chapter corresponding to one of race, social class, and democracy. In chapter 8, the conclusion, I make suggestions for changes to both the social studies curriculum and to teacher education programs in the B . C . context. This final chapter is a summary of the findings and suggestions for future research. Before the analysis begins, however, I must discuss the scholarly literature that informed my own understanding of these issues and helped me to frame the entire study. In other words, it is necessary to discuss the theoretical considerations of ideology, discourse, and hegemony. This is the focus of chapter 2. 18 Chapter 2 A Conceptual Framework for the Study Many of the concepts crucial to the research have contested meanings. Others need to be defined for the sake of clarity. I w i l l provide more context for some of these terms in the data analysis chapters. A t this time, however, it is prudent to offer some definitions and interpretations. A s I have already used the term ideology several times, and it being the central concept for this study, I w i l l begin there. 2.0 Ideology According to Raymond Will iams (1977), the French philosopher, Destutt de Tracy, was the first to use the term ideology as a concept representing the "science of ideas" during the Age of Enlightenment's early period. Yet, it was Kar l Marx who began to use the term to critique social relations of domination. According to Henry Giroux (1981), Marx conceptualized ideology in political terms both as "a critique of consciousness" and as "possibilities within consciousness" (p. 19). Zeus Leonardo (2003) furthers the Marxist notion of ideology by arguing that it is about so much more than examining the "negative distortion" supported by hegemonic devices; ideology is also about "positive projection" (p. 206). John Schwarzmantel (1998) re-states Marx 's conceptualization in a clear manner by explaining that each political ideology consists of three elements: a critique, an ideal, and agency (p. 2). In other words, each ideology has a response to the prevailing social conditions, either favourable or not, depending on how an individual's perspective agrees with the dominant ideology. Moreover, each ideology has an articulation of the ideal society. Whereas agency for Marx seemed to be based upon a worker-led revolution, the theories developed by both Leonardo and Schwarzmantel suggest myriad possibilities for action based on ideology. 19 It is necessary to describe the major political ideologies that have informed my analysis, o f course, but it seems wisest to first discuss some characteristics of ideology in general. Ideology is about the "thought-production of human beings" (Giroux, 1981, p. 19). A political ideology contains "a specific set of assumptions and social practices" that leads to various "beliefs, expectations and biases" (p. 7). In other words, a political ideology socially constructs its own knowledge. Relations that are constructed socially and historically by supporters of the dominant ideology are considered to be natural. There are also material effects from the relations produced by supporters of the dominant ideology. This has important implications for my data analysis. For example, in explaining the existence of poverty within capitalism, a conservative would believe that the problem lies with the poor themselves, that they do not have the motivation to learn useful, wage-earning skills, whereas a socialist would point to the economic system itself as the reason. In this case, a person's ideology provides the lens in which they perceive class issues. If a person acts to further entrench the dominant ideology or resist it, then this person's ideology is the source of the plan or agenda that guides their actions. In other words, all political ideologies function to provide the framework for political action designed to produce the good society, a term that is highly contested and at the root of many i f not most political struggles today. According to Schwarzmantel (1998), the basic notion of ideology is that it is possible to transform society and change human nature so that people are prepared to become suitable members of the new society (p. 63). The capability of ideology to change human nature rests on its relationship to discourse, a connection that I w i l l discuss in a subsequent section of this chapter. Current political ideological debates are often around inclusion and exclusion. A s Slavoj Zizek (1994) puts it, this is because in terms of social power ideology "regulates social visibility and non-visibility" (p. 3). A s an example, the current conservative movement in the United States is 20 fuelled by a backlash by angry White (mostly male) people, against immigration, feminism and the liberal response to these changes, namely, affirmative action programs. White defensiveness can be viewed as a reaction to what is, for Whites, the novel experience of having to argue for one's beliefs rather than simply assuming their acceptance. Sometimes, the cause of this conservative reaction may be the new experience of being in a minority. Although the terms ideology and perspective are often used interchangeably, for me there is a crucial difference. I interpret the meaning of political perspective to be the coupling of critique and ideal. In other words, perspective refers to the lens through which an individual sees the world, or a "critique of consciousness," without association to agency. The second aspect of the Marxist conception of ideology, according to Giroux, "possibilities within consciousness," addresses notions of action on the part of the individual as well as the collective. Perspective does not include this aspect. The Schwarzmantel prescription for ideology also clearly separates perspective from ideology by including the notion of agency, most meaningful for political and social activism, of course, and the major reason why this research project even began in the first place. Before I outline the core characteristics of each of the main ideologies, it is necessary to explain why I have chosen to use conservatism, liberalism and radicalism for my analysis. The radical ideology that has most informed my own understanding is related to a Marxist articulation of socialism. I am familiar with feminist (Dillabough, 2003; Bettie, 2003), multiculturalist (Bannerji, 1995), and environmentalist (Giddens, 1994; Abraham, Lacey, & Williams, 1990) concerns with Kar l Marx ' s work. Yet, I agree with feminist political philosopher Nancy Fraser (1997) who contends that it is best for those who subscribe to a radical ideology to re-work socialism by incorporating these valid concerns to make it an even stronger ideology than it was in its original form or any time since. In other words, to question Marxism from a critical perspective is not the same as outright dismissal. The major 21 difference between the class-based Marxist interpretation of the radical ideology arid my interpretation of the radical ideology is that I am considering class as much more heterogenous than Marx. Race/class intersections have played a prominent role in the history of B . C . coal mining (see chapter 4) and continue to play a role in the attitudes of teachers today. The multicultural metropolis that is Vancouver renders the classical Marxist notion of class more or less obsolete. It is the ways that race and class are represented in curriculum and thought about by teachers that is germane to this research. But one may ask whether the concept of ideology is useful at this particular historical moment? Has it served its useful purpose and now needs to be discarded? In Beyond Left and Right (1994), Anthony Giddens, at one time considered a sociologist with a socialist perspective, makes a case that the old ideologies of conservatism, liberalism and socialism have been turned inside out by powerful social, environmental and technological forces to the point that today's socialists are conservative and today's conservatives seem to adhere to an extreme brand of radicalism. To some extent, a case could be made that the N e w Democratic Party in Canada is a social democratic movement trying to preserve the hard-fought struggles won by the common people, such as public healthcare and welfare, against corporate intrusion and demands for privatization. There is also a strong case to be made that the current U . S . administration led by George W . Bush is an extreme brand of radicalism even though it presents to the masses as driven by conservatism. Clearly, Giddens is onto something. That said, I w i l l refrain from changing the usage of these terms, i f mainly to be in harmony with the vast amounts of scholarship that use conservatism to describe a type of right-wing politics and radicalism to represent a left-wing politics. I consider the usage of these terms to contain much relevance in the contemporary context. Stanley Aronowitz (1988) makes the contentious suggestion that we abolish the concept of ideology altogether, in education and everywhere else. Poststructuralist and postmodern theorists have 22 attacked modernity and its political ideologies on several fronts (Foucault, 1980; Lyotard, 1984; Laclau & Mouffe, 1985). For now, I w i l l state my position of resisting the decision to do away with the concept of ideology by claiming that political ideologies offer the language to debate and discuss social hierarchies, trends, and movements. This w i l l need to be discussed further, of course, but the argument wi l l be clearer i f at this time I describe the conditions and traits that have allowed the three major political ideologies to develop in the ways that they have. 2.1 Modernity Modernity itself is a period that began with the Enlightenment and the American and French revolutions in the late 1700s. The characteristics of modernity are varied and complex, so much so that I can only offer a simplistic overview that highlights traits pertinent to my study. In The Philosophical Discourse of Modernity (1987), Jurgen Habermas interprets Hegel, whom he considers to be "the first philosopher to develop a clear concept of modernity" (p. 4), to claim that there were two features that separated the new period from that which came before. First, the notion of individual freedom or emancipation, contained in the idea of subjectivity, meant that individuals were free to apply their own thinking to making a new social and political order. Not only was the person responsible for their own actions, but society itself was the result of collective human action rather than a God-given creation. Second, ties between the state and the economy must be completely severed. Taken together, these two features led to radically altered social relationships during the period of modernity. Traditional, ascribed roles that once ensured people remained in their station until death became destabilized, enabling some commoners the opportunity of social mobility and the pursuit of happiness. The essential state of the individual and of human nature itself, considered flawed by the authorities of divinity, were, for the most part, outright dismissed by philosophers of the Enlightenment. Yet, these 23 same philosophers could not find a solution to the problem that has dogged modernity since it began, namely, the possibility for a society of autonomous individuals to collectively unify. There was concern that the new society "might fall into decadence and corruption, because commerce could loom so large in people's lives that they would neglect the public and political spheres" (Schwarzmantel, 1998, p. 33). The recent trend in North America for regressive tax reform indicates that these concerns remain valid. It is possible to see certain ideologies, such as conservatism, nationalism, and socialism, develop responses to this tension of individual freedom and social cohesion, a tension that continues to destabilize the liberal project to this day. Modernity also ushered in the notion of progress, tied as it was to the control of nature, and a term that has been highly contested. In recent decades, there has been a considerable attack on the idea of inevitable or teleological progress, especially the manner in which early liberal and socialist thinkers portrayed it. M y position is that the term still holds some validity, although more for the purposes of guiding the path and the vision of the ideal society rather than as something inevitable. For me, progress refers to an expanding inclusivity, in terms of both individual rights and economic security. For example, i f the agency of certain groups leads to the eradication of poverty and the right of the individual to some form of housing, then this is progress. The notion of individual rights leads to another concept that also gained currency during this period and seems to have had better endurance, namely, citizenship. Citizenship is important to this entire project, linked as it is to democracy, inclusion, power, and social justice (see chapter 7). In fact, citizenship and democracy are so important to the period of modernity that many of the tensions and struggles throughout the entire period are centred around them. 24 This research project is about ideology and teaching for social justice in twenty-first century British Columbia. I think it is pertinent, however, to describe the reasons why and how the major political ideologies originated. 2.2 The Political Ideologies of Modernity The concepts of democracy and emancipation are central to my notion of social justice. Both democracy and emancipation were also central to the tensions within the politics of modernity that led to the competing political ideologies. Many philosophers of the Enlightenment, even those who believed that human happiness was possible, "had doubts about all human beings sharing in the benefits" (Schwarzmantel, 1998, p. 23). There was major debate around who should profit from the new society with its burgeoning economies, who should be included, and what role should be given to the "vulgar masses" in the democratic republic that the "cultured elite" was attempting to create (p. 23). That the working classes of Europe were thought of in this contemptuous manner sheds light on the even worse treatment that the indigenous peoples of the empire-building territories were subjected to. Despite these obvious contradictions in Enlightenment philosophy, several political ideologies emerged out of these struggles, each one made up of many situations that are grounded in social and material reality (Zizek, 1994). The first ideology to articulate a new way of perceiving the world and organize society through human reason during this period was liberalism. 2.2.1 Liberalism The two social cornerstones of liberalism in its classic form are "the supreme value of the individual and the need for a political system that was suitable for an emancipated and rational population" (Schwartzmantel, 1998, p. 68). Hence, it can be argued that the concepts of 25 emancipation and democracy are the progeny of liberalism. Initially, liberals were quite happy to engage in the pursuit of wealth and the conquest of nature (p. 74). A n economic system based on free-market principles became dominant as the newly emerging bourgeoisie refined the economically successful but racist mercantile system that had existed for at least a century prior to these revolutionary times. Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations became the source of rational liberal principles. Smith's belief in free-market capitalism was based in part on what he also thought to be the best way to free the most people. To varying degrees, liberalism became entrenched in France, Britain, its colonies, and the United States. A growing populace of small property owners began to create social stability and allow democracy (in its representative form) the opportunity to flourish. Yet, some liberal thinkers like Alexis de Tocqueville worried about the effects of excessive privatization (Heffner, 1956, pp. 209-213) and excessive individualism (ibid., pp. 192-194) because they would work to undermine any concern with common citizenship, public values, and collective benefits. Others, like John Stuart M i l l , were concerned with who would be granted citizenship rights and what negative effect giving non-propertied White men (i.e., labourers) the vote would have on the "tone of political discourse" (Schwartzmantel, 1998, p. 80). A t this point in history, there was very little thought given to any notions of emancipation for those who had been colonized or enslaved. Eventually, liberalism developed c iv i l , political, and consumer rights for all White men and in this way was successful in integrating these masses into the new society. B y the late 1800s, classical liberalism evolved into progressive or reform liberalism in which a more state-interventionist approach developed in part to appease the growing discontent of the working classes. Reform liberalism also included a "tempered" individualism, which developed out o f the inevitable tension between "an ideal of liberty" and "an ideal of equality" (McCullough, 1995, p. 27). Over the course 26 of the twentieth century, a colour-blind racial discourse became part of liberalism (Lewis, 2001; Frankenberg, 1993), and with this appeared another cornerstone of the ideology, namely, meritocracy. Meritocracy refers to the social system whereby each individual reaches a social and economic status commensurate with their individual talents and how hard they have worked. It is also used to explain why some individuals "excel and others flounder" (Lewis, 2001, p. 799). A t the same time that meritocracy reinforces the inequalities in our society, its existence makes people unconscious of any notion of privilege. In other words, meritocracy works as a hegemonic device. This was a central part of the socialist critique of liberalism. Yet, both ideologies had not developed any serious thought to notions of justice for those who were not of European extraction. Neither would the significant number of Europeans who had a more conservative vision of the ideal society be concerned with the welfare of non-White people. But for the first time, there was a new way of discussing what kind of society was best, with a language that included a conceptual framework based upon emancipation for all , citizenship and other democratic rights, and above all , the primacy of the individual. They merged together to form what is likely the first discursive formation that addressed social justice issues in a profound way (in Eurocentric history, at least). Yet, liberalism had its detractors, even among those who might concur with its stated aims. Kar l Marx agreed with much of nineteenth-century liberalism (Schwarzmantel, 1998, p. 95). His major criticism of the liberal position was what he saw as an unsolvable contradiction: the rights of the individual in an economic structure based on inequality. For Marx, the prime social unit was not the individual. It was social class. 27 2.2.2 Socialism A product of both the industrial revolution and the French Revolution, the original idea of socialism was that human beings could control and master "the forces of nature and production to achieve a common happiness of mankind" (Schwartzmantel, 1998, p. 88). Socialism can be seen as a spin-off ideology from liberalism, another attempt to realize the same emancipatory goal. The original socialist tradition was in agreement with the liberal idea about a rationally controlled society that could be made even better, that is, progress through conscious human action. Both ideologies agreed that the notion of divine guidance was simply not credible. Contrary to popular misconception, K a r l Marx had little difficulty with the liberal idea of democracy and its potential to engage and deliver power to the masses. Indeed, Marx had approved of the demand for universal suffrage made by Chartist working-class organizations in Britain in the 1830s. Moreover, he had commented that its "inevitable result. . . the political supremacy of the working class" was only a matter of time (in Schwarzmantel, p. 22). Yet, democracy in action proved itself to be different from democracy in its ideal form. The same people Marx referred to as the working class were called the unenlightened or even the vulgar masses by many bourgeois liberal thinkers. Marx became convinced that liberalism was, at best, a naive attempt to bring freedom to the masses (pp. 95-96). The failure of liberalism became especially clear to Marx after the 1851 Third Republic election in France, a test for liberal democracy in which the bourgeoisie ended up supporting the elites rather than the workers (Schwarzmantel, 1998, p. 181). A major tension within the liberal philosophy was made clear: the desire for universal rights coupled with the fear of the unenlightened masses holding the reins of power (ibid., p. 39). For these so-called unenlightened masses, however, power was still beyond their reach, traditional community support networks were breaking down, and 28 working conditions for the labourers of the industrial revolution were abominable. Historian Eric Hobsbawm explains the dilemma the working classes of Europe faced. Three possibil it ies were therefore open to such of the poor as found themselves in the path of bourgeois society, and no longer ef fect ively shel tered in st i l l inaccessible regions of traditional society. They could str ive to become bourgeois; they could allow themselves to be ground down; or they could rebel. (Hobsbawm, 1962, p. 245) A s Hobsbawm suggests, the Marxist critique of liberalism cogently expressed the discontentment of the masses and their potential for revolution. For Marx, liberalism's major flaw was its emphasis on the individual as the most important unit in society. In the Marxist interpretation of the social relations of that period, it was social class that was the crucial aspect of a person's identity. This was because of the great disparities in wealth and opportunities with which the working classes had to contend. It is beyond the scope of this research to go into any depth about the Marxist prescription for freedom based on a violent confrontation over the means of production between the proletariat and the bourgeoisie. It is paramount to my argument, however, that the original socialist ideology also articulated a vision for a socially just world in the same vein as its liberal predecessor. According to Marxian philosopher Peter Singer (1980), "Marx was devoted to the cause of human freedom" (p. 72). The liberal conception of freedom fits perfectly with the economic theories of capitalism, and on its own terms appears coherent. Yet, as Marx pointed out in the first volume of Capital (1961), from a broader, historical perspective, the liberal idea of freedom is unattainable for most people within capitalism. This is because of the basic contradiction that workers cannot be free when they are vulnerable to the capitalist tendency to exploit them and sell products at exorbitant prices. Yet, as Marx and his early supporters viewed the liberal ideology as naive and flawed, a similar critique of socialism has been launched by feminists (Dillabough, 2003; Bettie, 2003; 29 Hartmann, 1993), multiculturalists (Fraser, 1997; Bannerji, 1995), and environmentalists (Giddens, 1994; Abraham, Lacey, & Will iams, 1990). A t this point in the discussion of the role of ideology, suffice to say that Marx predicted, indeed, saw as inevitable, a worker-led revolution that would finish the bourgeois project of liberalism, namely, the emancipation of everyone. Adherents of both liberalism and conservatism were appalled at the notion of what kind of society the labouring masses would construct. A violent revolution was a frightening prospect; yet, so was the idea of the working classes gaining power through the mechanism of universal suffrage. Marx gained few allies from opposing ideologies, given his view of the inevitable clash between social classes. In fact, it is Marx ' s deterministic view of history with which I take exception. For me, human destiny is not pre-determined; rather, it has all to do with our agency in constructing what it is we truly want. It is precisely this position that the conservatives took exception with; for them, human reason is flawed. A central tenet of conservatism is that society should be led by a stable group of people who, through past experience, would have the ability to do so wisely. Its spin-off ideology, nationalism, is positioned even further to the Right on the Left-Right spectrum. Because it is only a matter of degree that separates these two ideologies, and because the criticisms leveled by liberals and socialists are similar for both, I w i l l discuss them in a single section. 2.2.3 Conservatism and National ism The conservative ideology developed as a reaction to modernity and the revolutionary fervour it spawned. According to Schwarzmantel (1998), "[conservatism was critical of modernity while at the same time being its product" (p. 111). The commercial forces unleashed by the liberal project were tearing apart the bonds needed for social cohesion. Moreover, conservatives considered the notion of progress, central to both liberalism and socialism, as unsettling and threatening to tradition 30 and community. A central theme of conservatism is that tradition gains strength from the long held vviews inherent in the common sense of the community (McCulluogh, 1995, p. 43). Conservative theorists believed in "the idea of an organic and hierarchical society, in which people knew their place yet are related to each other as part of a totality" (Schwarzmantel, 1998, p. 110). In other words, tradition and progress are directly at odds with one another; conservatives cherish the former while fearing the latter. Conservatism shares with socialism a fear of the fragmentary atomistic processes in the individual-obsessed philosophy of liberalism. Both were fearful of liberalism's unchecked economic policies, processes that might render all familiarity unrecognizable. The similarities between the two ideologies end there, however, as traditional conservative thought was focused on how to maintain the status quo in the face o f economic, political, and social upheaval (McCullough, 1995, p. 44). The idea that society must depend on human reason repulsed conservatives, who focused on divine guidance in this life to get people to the after-life. A s a corollary, conservatives such as Edmund Burke were staunchly opposed to involving the masses in the political realm (Schwarzmantel, 1998, p. 114). In its original form, conservatism was adamantly opposed to democracy. Yet, there were some conservative theorists who attempted to encourage the engagement of the masses into politics through the use of referenda and plebiscites. (This strand of conservatism has been articulated recently in Canada, as the now defunct Canadian Alliance Party had called for this referenda mechanism to be part of federal democratic initiatives.) Conservatism in this form appears to use populism to give people a false sense of participation as authoritarian politics are entrenched. A s Rorty (1998) points out, progressive legislation brought about through the painstaking lobbying of various groups is quickly extinguished. 31 Strands of conservatism venture even further to the right on the Left-Right political spectrum, of course. Fascists seized the opportunity presented by the onward rush of modernity to claim that rational human thought is flawed, that an all-powerful leader is required to forge a strong sense of community in the face of social forces brought on by democratic, liberal thought. Fascism contains a central element of the ideology of nationalism, namely, the use of revisionist history and myth to foster a racial or ethnic pride. Most fascist forms of nationalism also use vulnerable groups as scapegoats in order to mobilize the masses to move toward a perceived greater level of prosperity. There are more progressive forms of nationalism. 1 But for our purposes, the discussion on nationalism focuses on its more common and regressive form. Nationalism is much more likely to survive social crises because of its chameleon-like qualities. A s well , its critique of the universalism espoused by liberals and socialists allows it to mobilize large groups of people opposed to the concept in these postmodern times, allowing groups to be pitted against one another, as currently seen throughout many parts of the world, such as in central Africa, the Balkan states, and even to some degree in Quebec. Moreover, nationalism is able to better guarantee "a sense of inclusion and citizenship" (Schwarzmantel, 1998, p. 147), most often by excluding others from the rights and benefits of citizenship. (A most frightening situation arises with what de Tocqueville called the tyranny of the majority.) The critiques of conservatism and right-wing nationalism from both the liberal and socialist camps are clear and succinct and based on several principles of social justice. To begin, a society constructed by rational human-thought makes more sense than one based on divine principles (which most on the Left would claim to be open to multiple human interpretations anyway). Moreover, and especially germane to this study, traditional communities are most often non-egalitarian with entrenched social hierarchies and therefore clearly anti-democratic. Traditional hierarchies by 32 definition take exception with the discourse for the emancipation of the masses, a situation that can lead to the oppression of many for the benefit of the few. Lastly, the focus on tradition and the past often seems to lead to the exclusion of certain groups from attaining citizenship. Even more disturbing, extreme conservatism and right-wing nationalism often scapegoat vulnerable groups of people. From the taxonomy of political ideologies I have described here, it is clear that both liberalism and socialism include principles of social justice. 2 Both couplings - liberalism/socialism and conservatism/nationalism - work, to a large extent, in opposition to each other. This binary produces tensions around the issues of engaging the masses politically, o f inclusion and citizen rights, of equality, and of progress. A l l o f these ideologies have changed over time to adapt to changing conditions. Liberalism has embraced a larger role for government. The radical left, represented to some degree in Canada by the trade union movement (Palmer, 1992) and the New Democratic Party, is concerned with matters of race and gender. Conservatism today emphasizes the importance of meritocracy and the primacy of the individual (Sadovnik et al., 1994) much more than earlier conservatives. According to postmodern theorists, however, all o f the ideologies that arose out of modernity are flawed and mostly irrelevant for today's society. 2.3 Postmodernist Critiques of Modernity's Ideologies There are many aspects of how reality is understood in the modernist paradigm to which postmodernists take exception. The assumption that objective truths exist and that value-free science can uncover these truths has been shown to be problematic from a postmodernist perspective (Murphy, 1989, p. 2). Moreover, postmodernists attack what they see as the major flaw in western epistemology, namely, that knowledge as well as order are conceived dualistically and underpinned 33 by metanarratives. According to John Murphy, "a metanarrative style of knowledge . . . is used to buttress norms" (ibid, p. 14). In other words, these metanarratives act as hegemonic devices that conceal certain forms of power. A n important example of this is the universal subject that was at the centre of liberalism's Enlightenment, a concept that positioned the economically privileged White male as the hegemonic norm. Relatively new ideologies such as certain versions of feminism and critical multiculturalism have articulated well developed critiques of this liberal notion of the universal subject. Indeed, feminist critiques of socialism are equally damning. After all , according to Zeus Leonardo (2003), "[wjomen's role in the Marxist conception of history is either muted or absent" (p. 208). Furthermore, in tandem with environmentalism, these critiques of the older ideologies emphasize what they see as the inability of the metanarratives to address the social problems to which they claim to have solutions. The ever increasing diverse pluralist nature of Canada and the United States, especially in urban centres, suggests that what the metanarratives of each of the major political ideologies promises are even less likely to be delivered. 3 It is the postmodernist critique of the claim to universalism within the metanarratives of the liberal and socialist ideologies that is most pertinent to this study. For example, in The Postmodern Condition (1984), Jean-Francois Lyotard develops a convincing argument illuminating the contradictions within European liberalism, especially its claims of emancipation existing side by side with concealed dynamics of oppression. This particular contradiction can best be seen when one considers the social, political, and economic oppression of indigenous peoples and the economic oppression of most of the working classes, both in the past and in the current context. The political conditions during this emerging postmodern period are vastly different from those that led to the creation and development of the Enlightenment. The erosion of the powers of the 34 nation-state, one of the cornerstones of modernity, has added to the social fragmentation and disappearance of community for many people. The undeniable destruction of the environment proves that liberals and socialists were wrong in thinking that nature could simply be controlled. A class, such as Marx 's proletariat, no longer can be seen as a subject in history: yet, neither could it be determined entirely from economics. This is because the Marxist notion of social class has been destabilized by a host of other factors that includes race (Fraser, 1997), gender (Hartmann, 1993), and consumerism (Jameson, 1983). A s well , shifting subjectivities make social movements based on any one marker of identity suspect. In fact, the problematic status of any social movement or collective agent powerful enough to claim to speak on behalf of society about general grievances has added to the conviction among many that no grand metanarrative can speak for all social groups. One of the most common postmodernist critiques of modernity is that there can be no universal emancipation in this postmodern world (Lyotard, 1984). B y corollary, there can only be a politics of identity and difference. In short, postmodern theorists question the idea that any one group is capable of developing an emancipatory political agenda as both the liberals and socialists espouse (Laclau, 1988; Lyotard, 1984). Each ideology is limited because it speaks to and benefits only a partial population in society, blocking any hope of realizing its ideal through agency, as well as making any claims to universality unsustainable. The postmodern critique of socialism is that a person's identity includes several markers, social class being but one. The postmodern critique of liberalism is centred around the notion of the primacy of the individual, that the individual is a rational and autonomous subject of agency. Progressive social movements, most of which "protest structural inequalities that they perceive unfairly privilege some social segments and oppress others" (Young, 2000, p. 92), are obviously at variance with conservatism's axiom of knowing your place in traditional social 35 hierarchies. 2.4 Ideology Today I f democracy and emancipation are to be more than pious aspirations, the ideologies must once again be linked to social movements and political parties that are putting them into practice. (John Schwarzmantel, 1998, p. 12) I include these postmodernist critiques to address the frequent and often valid attacks on any conceptual discussion of the political ideologies that developed in response to the sweeping changes transforming western societies during the period of modernity. In order to have relevance today, there is no question that the ideologies of emancipation - liberalism and socialism - need to take into account the postmodern critiques. In particular, socialism must find the political space and wi l l to take into account the diversity along axes of race and gender and not only social class. 5 I believe, however, that the political ideologies of the Left-Right spectrum are still highly relevant in the politics of today's postmodern society. Political ideologies are necessary for a truly democratic politics to develop. John Schwarzmantel (1998) claims that i f we do not have political ideologies that political parties subscribe to, then we get power for the sake of power. In the Canadian context we have seen this very development with the land-slide election victory of the B . C . Liberal Party in 2001, which immediately demonstrated a neoconservative ideology as soon as they formed government. Explicit articulation of these ideologies would enable debate and discussion to flourish with a backdrop of common understanding. But does the public possess a common understanding of the major political ideologies? If they do not, which I suspect to be the case, then how best to change this? If a socially just society is the end goal, as it is for me and many others, a class-based socialist notion of a collective agent that includes race and gender is better positioned to build sustaining coalitions in order to confront the major obstacles. A public understanding of ideological critique 36 would greatly strengthen such a movement. After all , what other options do advocates for social justice have? Some people do not agree with the principles of social justice, of course. Moreover, the liberal vision of an ideal world differs from the socialist vision. Conservatives do not accept the notion of equality, believing that traditional social hierarchies are required for social cohesion. A l l of the adherents to these ideologies compete to garner support for their way of seeing the world and their plans to organize society through the use of discourse. 2.5 Discourse [A]t the heart of ideology is the problem of social relations of domination made intelligible through discourse. (Zeus Leonardo, 2003, p. 204) This quote is indicative of the way that I have used the concept of discourse throughout the entire project, namely, as a constant and dynamic engagement with power. A comprehension of the role discourse plays in sustaining or resisting dominant ideologies is of paramount importance to this research. Leonardo (2003) concurs, arguing that "a discursive understanding of ideology critique" has huge "potential as an analytic tool" (p. 204). Such an understanding forces a person to "appreciate the role that language plays in the representation of social life" (p. 204). Within this framework, ideology is not reified; rather, it is "never complete but instead is evolving and modifying i t s e l f and "never stands on its own but is involved in relations with other ideologies" (p. 209). A t the risk of oversimplification, ideology rests at the pinnacle of certain sets of discourses that have formed into powerful discursive formations. Not all ideas or discourses take hold to form an ideology, of course. Stuart Hal l states, "It is not the individual elements of a discourse that have political or ideological connotations, it is the ways those elements are organized together in a new discursive formation" 37 (Grossberg, 1986, p. 143, emphasis mine). Across time, the discourses change, as do the discursive formations, thereby forcing ideologies to adapt, always in response to changing material and social conditions. Yet, ideology does not fall prey "to relativism or a dilut[ed] concept beyond recognition" (Leonardo, 2003, p 204), even as the supportive discursive formations emphasize various discourses to different degrees. This is because there are core characteristics, discussed earlier in this chapter, that are unique to each of them. To use an example pertinent to this research, the conservative ideology no longer is dependent upon the dying race or the yellow hordes discourses to support the notion of race-based social stratification. (See chapter 4 for further discussion of these earlier discourses of conservatism.) The current discursive formation in support of conservatism includes anti-affirmative action and blame-the-victim discourses that work to fuel a white backlash. Traditionally, discourse and discourse analysis are thought of in mechanistic terms and within the realm of linguistics (McHoul , 1993). Rather than thinking of discourse in this way, I have used it in a more Foucauldian sense of the term, that is, as a critical tool enabling the illumination of the political ideologies underlying the B . C . social studies curriculum and influencing the attitudes of the teachers toward issues of race and class. In other words, discourse is how "ideology is understood, perpetuated or challenged" (Leonardo, 2003, p. 207), an approach that informed my strategies in determining how ideology influences social studies education in terms of race and class. Leonardo and I are not alone in realizing the potential of this poststructuralist approach to ideology critique. Australian educator R. W . Connell (2004), a self-proclaimed "socialist," emphasizes that "[p]oststructuralism represents an important creative resource for the social sciences and the humanities" (p. 22). A poststructuralist understanding of language in the representation of social life demonstrates its importance with discourse, discourse analysis, and ideology. (Language itself has 38 clearly stopped being solely within the domain of formal linguistics.) A s Leonardo (2003) puts it, "language is a tool not only for communication, but also for domination and liberation" (p. 205). Connell considers the theoretical work of Miche l Foucault to be particularly effective in demonstrating the usefulness of viewing the connections between language, discourse, and power (p. 23). Foucault (1970) reconceptualized language as a sociopolitical entity, as the means by which things can actually be created. For Foucault, knowledge itself involves social, political and historical conditions under which various statements come to count as true or false. In other words, power is always at the root of discourse and which discourses gain currency as official knowledge. Foucault is not saying that there is no truth. On the contrary, he is in agreement with postmodern theorists that there can be many truths of the same event, each with its own rationality. For Foucault, as for me, what is important is: which interpretation of the truth, at any given period, becomes the official discourse and how does this occur? Or, in other words, two important questions stemming from Foucault's theory of discourse are: first, "How does an interpretation get to be told as truth?" and second, "What can be said?" Even to ask such questions demonstrates a radical ideological position. To ask such questions involves the notion of power. Power is the underpinning of Foucault's theory of discourse (1977, p. 27). Yet, power is conceived very differently from commonsense and sociopolitical interpretations: "Power is everywhere, not because it embraces everything but because it comes from everywhere" (Foucault, 1979a, p. 93). In the Foucauldian sense, power is conceived as a set of relations of force, relations that are local and historically contingent. Power is seamlessly built into daily relations and practices, rather than as some thing imposed from the top down. Discourse is not so unidirectional. 39 The dominant discourses in a society work to maintain the status quo and further the interests of the privileged. In the course of White settlers populating the region now known as British Columbia, the dominant discourses of White supremacy, Christianity, capitalism, the dying race, and the yellow hordes all worked to increase economic, social and political power for the White (mostly British) middle class at the expense of the Other (mostly Aboriginal and Asian). Yet, it is crucial, according to A l l an Luke (1995), that we see discourse as more than simply "top-down ideological manipulation" (p. 9). Without specifically referring to Foucault, Michael Apple succinctly states the Foucauldian premise, "[wjherever there is power, there is resistance" (1989, p. 182). In other words, dominant discourses can fail because human beings are also agents capable of changing the conditions under which they live. History is replete with examples of discourses that run counter to the interests of the privileged, sometimes gaining enough currency because of the way they explain material conditions to foster social movements that actually succeed in changing or transforming major segments of society. The gains created out of feminism, anti-racism and trade unionism -movements that continue to fight against various forms of oppression - attest to this. In short, the dominant discourses are about power; the counter-hegemonic discourses are about resistance to power. But what exactly is discourse in the way that I am using it? Popkewitz states that discourse "sets the conditions by which events are interpreted and one's self as an individual is located in a dynamic world" (cited in Britzman, 1991, p. 16). From this I assume that Popkewitz means that discourse shapes each individual's experience and subjectivity, a Foucauldian contention. Therefore, the unified self of the Enlightenment, so crucial to liberal philosophy, has been destabilized to the ever-changing subject, another important poststructuralist contribution. This is but one aspect of how the concept of discourse is crucial for an understanding of ideology. 40 Discourse is always connected with desire and power. I f it is a dominant discourse, these connections are hidden i f desire and power are to manifest themselves in the social relations of a society. The dominant discourse functions hegemonically because, at least in part, those who hold social, economic and political power are in the minority. A s Norman Fairclough (1989) puts it, "[discourse can never be 'neutral' or value-free; discourse always reflects ideologies, systems of values, beliefs, and social practices" (p. 21). In other words, discourses can work toward either sustaining unequal relations of power or challenging them. In order to understand the connection between discourse and its relationship to power, one must engage in an analytic combination of ideology and discourse, or what Lemke (1995) calls "the ideological functioning of discourses" (p. 12). This is what Luke (1995) calls critical discourse analysis. The results of such analysis is what Leonardo (2003) refers to as ideology critique. I concur with Leonardo's contention that "[i]deology critique lifts the veil o f common sense in order to arrive at underlying interests and agendas structured in language" (p. 208). Critical discourse analysis is the strategy I have employed in this research in order to engage in an ideology critique of social studies education in British Columbia. For example, the knowledge contained in the Ministry-sanctioned curricula is interwoven with power. First, it is seen as official knowledge upholding authority (Apple, 1990). Second, its particular knowledge is what the students learn about. Whatever is excluded is not in the dominant discourses that structure society and its social relations. What is included eventually becomes normalized, as i f this was inevitable, natural, perhaps even invisible. Both exclusion and inclusion are examples of hegemonic strategies. Discourse is engaged with the representation of our world. And , according to my understanding of Popkewitz, it is also engaged with shaping our consciousness of the world. Yet, interwoven with power as it is, discourse is set in a material condition or a set of material conditions 41 which, in turn, sets boundaries on the socially productive imagination. A s an example, the discourses of White supremacy and capitalism, in tandem with the dying race discourse, worked to rationalize the theft of Aboriginal lands and subsequent legislation forbidding status Aboriginal people from owning land or starting a business in British Columbia from the 1850s until the 1950s. Discourse, in this sense, engages in power with definite material consequences. It also supports a political ideology, in this case, conservatism. It is the elements of various discourses, as part of discursive formations, that are involved in the dynamics of constructing political ideologies. It is often difficult for certain discourses that have the best interests of significant numbers of people to take hold because the dominant ideology influences these same people to perceive the world in ways that work to oppress them. In other words, discourses do not compete as equals. Whereas some are considered to be authoritative, others are quickly marginalized, even by those who might benefit from the ideas contained within them. Roland Barthes "proposed the notion of ideology as the 'naturalization' of the symbolic order" (cited in Zizek, 1994, p. 11). A t this point, the idea of hegemony w i l l be helpful in explaining what Barthes calls the "naturalization," which is the connection between ideology and discourse. 2.6 Hegemony It is often astounding to learn of people who act in ways that are not in the best interests of the social groups to which they belong. A few examples w i l l make this statement more concrete. There are some teachers in the union to which I belong, the British Columbia Teachers' Federation (BCTF) , who want the union to disappear, to be replaced by a loosely affiliated association. In June 2001, during the last election in British Columbia, a province in which the majority of the populace is considered working class, 58% of the popular vote went to the neoconservative and virulently anti-42 union B . C . Liberal Party rather than to the pro-labour New Democratic Party. To understand why it is not uncommon to witness people acting with a contradictory consciousness, it is helpful to utilize the Gramscian notion of hegemony. Hegemony refers to the ideal representation of the interests of the privileged groups as universal interests, which are accepted by the masses as the natural order. Antonio Gramsci (1971) developed the Marxist conception of hegemony as the principal manner in which social order is maintained within capitalist societies. Force is not required in a society whereby the masses freely give their consent to the existing order and social hierarchies, (although the possibility of force is ever present). In the context of the last B . C . election, a bourgeois or middle-class hegemony permeated almost the entire public space for debate so that even the working classes considered the notion of severe tax cuts as being in their own best interests. The subsequent massive funding cuts in social services, public education and healthcare, in tandem with a record-breaking deficit and an agenda of privatization, has left the masses reeling. It is prudent to discuss the role of hegemony that enables situations like this to arise. Hegemony is more than a political alliance between social forces made up of certain classes or fractions of classes. In the European context of Gramsci's time, hegemony was the integration of a variety of class interests that were distributed throughout society "bringing about not only a unison of economic and political aims, but also intellectual and moral unity . . . on a 'universal' plane" (Gramsci, 1971, pp. 181-182). The effects of hegemony are so difficult to combat because hegemony itself "constitutes the limit of commonsense for most people" (R. Will iams, cited in M . Apple, 1990, p. 4). In other words, hegemony shapes how people view life itself through organizing values, rituals, and meaning. Many aspects of an individual's reality are confirmed by other aspects. For example, in the historical context of British Columbia, imperialism required that White people take land away 43 from the First Nations people. Discourses of capitalism, Christianity and White supremacy formed a rationalizing discursive formation to aid in this theft. The White settlers saw First Nations people as inferior and treated them accordingly. After some time, this oppressive process led to greatly increased dysfunction in First Nations communities, reinforcing notions of European superiority and the racial hierarchies that emanated from them. Henry Giroux (1981) describes this form of hegemony, which he and others term "cultural hegemony," as "the successful attempt of a dominant class to utilize its control over the resources of the state and c iv i l society, particularly through the use of the mass media and the educational system, to establish its views of the world as all inclusive and universal" (p. 23). Indeed, both Giroux and Apple (1990, p. 5) appear to be greatly influenced by the Marxist interpretation of hegemony relating mostly around social class, or how one class consciously imposes its values on another class. A s the historical example in the previous paragraph indicates, however, I consider the same dynamic to be at work with race relations, as well . In Gramscian terms, Giroux is claiming that the state operates in a much broader framework than what is commonly thought of as the public sphere, namely, the government, political parties, and the military. The state, according to Gramsci, also includes the private sphere of c iv i l society, including church, the media, and of great significance for this project, public education (Gramsci, 1971, p. 261). The state can be seen as a social relation in much the same way that Foucault conceptualized power. Rather than thinking of the state in Althusserian terms, as a distinct institutional category, it is more profound to think of it as a form of social relations that enables capitalism and other dominant discourses to find expression. This broader conception of the state also allows for a better understanding of the hegemonic devices employed in the service of maintaining the status quo. Gramsci noted that the success of the hegemonic function of the state depends on the 44 "organic intellectuals," a group made up of educators, journalists, and experts within various fields. These organic intellectuals play a hegemonic role in the way that they can control and further entrench certain discourses that support the dominant ideology. In short, their role is to manufacture consent. Yet, this group is not a monolithic entity sharing exactly the same views. It is possible to see how the role of the organic intellectual can be de-stabilized. In particular, as the Social Reconstructionists contend (Rugg, 1921; Counts, 1932; Sleeter & Grant, 1994), the role of the autonomous educator offers hope for counter-hegemonic discourses to develop. Counter-hegemony includes the notion that, for example, a working-class culture with its own values and norms would arise to confront bourgeois hegemony. O f course, a counter-hegemonic movement can also struggle against white supremacist hegemony. The organic intellectuals of counter-hegemonic discourses might hold down any job, from within the trade union movement to community work. For the purposes of this research, examining the role of the social studies teacher as organic intellectual in the service of the state is crucial. It is also important however, that in this context the state itself be seen as an extraordinarily powerful dispenser of the dominant discourses that influence social relations, rather than as Althusser described it, namely, as a distinct institutional category on its own. Before Gramsci's time, much Marxist discourse involved the notion of a false consciousness, or the idea that many people adhere to one or more political ideologies, whether or not they are able to articulate it, that does not work in their best interest. Gramsci preferred the idea of a contradictory consciousness, which, according to Giroux (1981), means that "human beings view the world from a perspective that contains both hegemonic forms of thinking and modes of critical insight" (p. 25). Jean A n y on (1981) developed a theory of contradictory consciousness in a slightly different manner. She postulates that most people are influenced by a consciousness that is made up of a practical component and a theoretical component. The practical component involves the "everyday attempts to 45 resolve the class, race, gender and other contradictions one faces" (p. 126). In other words, it's about how people understand the system to work. Theoretical consciousness, on the other hand, is mostly developed by the dominant political ideology in a manner that attempts to thwart serious dissent through the use of an array of hegemonic devices. For a significant number of people, the practical and the theoretical do not sit well with each other. This undoubtedly occurs for some workers who have been downsized, hard-working and long-serving employees who have been laid off because of something out of their control such as technological innovations or corporate mergers. The blame-the-victim discourse that has become commonplace in North American media outlets in the past 20 years or so must conflict with the practical realities of this newly unemployed individual. This contradictory consciousness may allow for counter-hegemonic discourses to find resonance in their way of seeing the world. In Hegemony (1986), Robert Bocock describes another way of explaining the formation of a contradictory consciousness. He claims that it is probably the case that significant percentages of exploited populations in western countries today "remain subject in one way or another to reformist or capitalist ideology" (p. 32). Bocock asserts that these groups hold these values and political ideas for two reasons: first, simply trying to survive, as with much of the working classes; and second, attempting to enjoy themselves as consumers within capitalism. Looking at public education, a critical teacher may see a contradictory consciousness as an opportunity to develop a counter-hegemonic discourse. For example, the anti-consumerist philosophy found in the very popular Vancouver-based Adbusters magazine, used in tandem with the Canadian documentary The Corporation, can provide the resources for the progressive-minded teacher to develop lessons that have the learning objective of questioning consumerism from the perspective of an environmentalist or a sweat-shop worker. Students can have the opportunity to deconstruct the extremely powerful 46 pro-capitalist discourse at the same time that they understand the enjoyment they may experience from living within a capitalist society. Students can weigh the pros and cons, realize the contradictions involved in such a lifestyle, and decide to make changes i f they are moved to do so. Yet, Whitson (1991) makes a key point about counter-hegemonic efforts: The concept of hegemony would be superfluous if it meant nothing more than domination through the combined e f fec ts of diverse ideological and coercive factors. The essential and unique contribution of hegemony is its revelation of how the program of dominant groups is advanced, not simply by excluding oppositional programs, but by locating the opposition within the total ideological and sociopolitical s t ructure in places where the opposition may be harmless or even supporting to the structure's viability. (pp. 78-79) Whitson is warning those who critique the dominant relations that simply to offer a counter-hegemonic discourse may not be enough. Capitalism has proven time and again that it has the capability of co-opting oppositional forms. (An argument can be made that even an oppositional form like punk rock-and-roll culture can and has been co-opted.) Moreover, capitalism might lead other oppositional forms to places where they support the system they are trying to change. In the context of British Columbia, the emergence of the Green Party has led to a two-party opposition that works to the advantage of the neoconservative Liberal government. (Indeed, the neoconservative corporate media has not been an obstacle to the growth of the Green Party for precisely the reasons Whitson suggests.) Bearing Whitson's point of caution in mind, I still see a vital role for public education to be a site of fostering counter-hegemonic discourse. I f the reproduction theorists were proven to be correct in their essentially determinist view of the school as a site of social class reproduction, then there would be little point in doing this research. Bocock dismisses the Althusserian concept of "ideological state apparatus" used by Bowles and Gintis (1976) because it is too deterministic and precludes the possibility of agency in the form of progressive and influential counter-hegemonic 47 discourses, in schools and elsewhere. Bocock further develops the notion of hegemony by incorporating human agency into the dynamics of ideological manipulation. Michael Apple 's (1990) assertion that "wherever there is power, there is resistance" is evident throughout Bocock's theory. This study is an attempt to learn about counter-hegemonic discourses of resistance that might be used in Vancouver social studies classrooms. Yet, I do not believe I hold false hopes and expectations for public education to be the great emancipator on its own. I am in partial agreement with Althusser (1971) in that I see the school system as existing with state-sanctioned approval that, in turn, exists to maintain the status quo. The dominant values within the school system in general, and the social studies curriculum in particular, are created outside of the school in the dominant social relations of capitalism. I differ from the reproduction theorists like Bowles and Gintis (1976), however, in that I know firsthand the possibilities for the enacted curriculum (Ross, 2001) to destabilize what is often taken for granted in society's social relations, which are also created out of a multitude of struggles. In other words, agency on the part of teacher and students offers some hope. The attitudes of teachers, analyzed in chapters 5, 6, and 7, w i l l provide at least a partial answer of whether that hope is warranted. Historically, schools have also been the site of competing ideological struggles between the dominant group(s) and those who want less oppression and more privilege (Tyack & Cuban, 1995; Barman, 1988). A s a veteran teacher, I have been part, and witnessed countless other examples, of teachers and students together creating counter-hegemonic discourses that serve to undermine or destabilize the dominant economic and social relations. In other words, there is room in the classroom to help manufacture dissent rather than consent. For significant numbers of educators, myself included, this is a matter of social justice. 48 2.7 Social Justice A t first glance, one may think that the term social justice is relatively straight forward and clear. Yet, as with most political terms involving social relations, it too is contested. Very shortly after Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chretien suggested he was wil l ing to support legislation that would legalize same-sex marriages, opposition arose from several conservative groups. The Canadian Alliance for Social Justice and Family Values Association organized a rally in downtown Vancouver to "support the traditional definition of marriage" (Anderson, 2003, p. A13). A s well , this "social justice" group appeared on radio programs voicing negative and homophobic comments about the potential legislation. This is an example of an ideological struggle around ownership of the term social justice. In this study, I use the term social justice in only its progressive interpretations. I am dismissing any attempted ownership of the term by those adhering to a conservative ideology. After all , as I explained in the earlier section on ideology, conservatism seeks to uphold tradition, including traditional social hierarchies, as a means to maintain social cohesion in the face of vast social changes. In my conception of what social justice means, egalitarianism stands for the ideal, not hierarchy. A s social conservatives attempt to usurp political terms for their own agenda, it is within the jurisdiction of progressive radicals to claim the terms they want for themselves, as well . Yet, even among progressive or left-wing educators, social justice is somewhat contested. Some teachers encourage their students to become involved in charity, which educator Bob Peterson sees as progressive but not critical (Peterson, 1998, p. 87). I understand charity to be a liberal concept in the way that I described liberalism earlier. Some educators use the term progressive to describe an overlap between liberal and radical perspectives (Sadovnik, Cookson & Semel, 1994). Charity can be used, according to Peterson, "as an opportunity to build on students' seemingly innate sympathy for 49 the down-trodden" (Peterson, 1993, p. 87). A more radical teacher might focus on ways that the economic system we live under forces some people to require charity in order to survive. In teaching about the past and the present, there are those who subscribe to a progressive perspective that resembles what the social historians call for, namely, describing events from the point of view of marginalized groups. In Schools and Social Justice, R. W . Connell (1993) contends that "the current hegemonic curriculum embodies the interests of the most advantaged" (p. 44), resulting in many students feeling excluded from important aspects of our society. He suggests that a more socially just curriculum would move the perspective of the oppressed, which he refers to as the "standpoint of the least advantaged," to the pedagogical centre, because "[jjustice requires a counter-hegemonic curriculum" (p. 44). From a similar perspective, Maxine Greene (1998) eloquently argues that to teach for social justice is to teach "for the recognition of social wrongs, of sufferings" (p. xiv). She calls for teachers to use classroom materials that have literary or historical figures who would not accept a status quo laced with injustice. Greene calls on teachers to show students "the joy of working for transformation in the smallest of places, so that they may become healers and change the world" (p. xiv). The data analysis chapters demonstrate the level of resistance many teachers have to Greene's position. I agree with both Connell and Greene that a curriculum focused on the experiences of the marginalized and those who have fought for justice would be more satisfying for more students than the current social studies curriculum. If they are suggesting that individual teachers discreetly use the autonomy they possess to undertake such educational endeavours, I support them. It is highly unlikely, however, that the elites and their supporters in the media and in the public education system would allow this perspective to infiltrate the curriculum on a large scale. In fact, for well over a decade, there has been a powerful conservative backlash against the social historians, particularly in 50 the United States. American historian Gary Nash attempted to include the voices of marginalized groups in the early 1990s in a national curriculum, unleashing an incredibly vitriolic attack on his own credibility and his "biased agenda" from very powerful conservatives. One of the most outspoken critics of Nash's progressive agenda for high school history was Lynn Cheney, the wife of the current conservative American Vice-President, D ick Cheney. Here is a quote that she had published in the Wall Street Journal as the chair of the National Endowment of the Humanities a few days before the work by Nash and his colleagues was made public: Imagine an outline fo r the teaching of American history in which George Washington makes only a f leet ing appearance and is never described as our f i r s t president. O r in which the founding of the Sierra Club and the National Organization fo r Women are considered noteworthy events ... (October 20, 1994) Cheney went even further, inciting American conservatives to block Nash, who she claimed wanted American youth to learn about the K u K l u x K l a n and McCarthyism rather than the wonderful accomplishments of (White) Americans (Nash, Crabtree, & Dunn, 1997). The situation is similar in Canada. In Who Killed Canadian History? (1998), historian Jack Granatstein demands a return to the Eurocentric and pro-British curriculum of the past. Granatstein, the president of the conservative Dominion Institute of Canada, chastizes any teacher whose lessons make immigrant children and their families feel bad about the country they worked so hard to live in. Granatstein attacks progressive educators, whom he claims see "history [as] boring, irrelevant, and fit only for the slag heap, except for small nuggets . . . useful for current concerns about racism, gender equity, and the plight of native peoples" (p. 26). It is clear that to try to sell the Canadian public on a state-sanctioned curriculum based on social history would be unleashing a conservative backlash much like the American example. A t this historical moment, the most that progressive educators can do is find ways to teach for social justice on an individual basis. They must always be wary, however, of 51 conservative colleagues, administrators, parents, and members of the media and the public opposed to those aims. One perspective of teaching for social justice that has informed my own approach was developed by Christine Sleeter and Carl Grant. They call it Education that is Multicultural and Reconstructionist (1994). It is based on a radical ideology that has as its aim to "promote social structural equality and cultural pluralism" (p. 211). They attack one of liberalism's cornerstones. America has an ideology of individual achievement, but... this ideology masks reality. The resources with which a person s tar ts , the opportunities open to the person, the circumstances in which a person lives, and the way others react to the person all depend to a significant extent on the groups of which that person is a member. (p-214) For Sleeter and Grant, the liberal notion of meritocracy is but a hegemonic device that works to conceal the ways in which the children of the privileged are more likely to succeed. They suggest that teachers design lessons that utilize the Freirian notion of conscientization (p. 212) in order for students to question the way society is structured. Through personal reflection based on their own experience, students may begin "to perceive social, political, and economic contradictions, and to take action against the oppressive elements of reality''' (Freire, 1995, p. 17, my emphasis). In a review of the literature on anti-oppressive education, Kev in Kumashiro (2000) summarizes and critiques four approaches. The first two are liberal approaches: Education for the Other and Education About the Other. The remaining two approaches, however, are radical. Education that is Critical o f Privileging and Othering focuses on transformation of existing "hegemonic structures and ideologies" (p. 36). It is also informed by Friere's notion of conscientization by encouraging students "to perceive social, political, and economic contradictions, and to take action against the oppressive elements of reality" (Freire, 1995, p. 17). The fourth approach, which Kumashiro calls Education that Changes Students and Society, emanates out of 52 poststructural concerns. Its major premise is that "oppression originates in discourse" (p. 40). Kumashiro's review helped me determine the ideology influencing the teachers' views around social justice issues (see chapter 7). It also suggested ways for teacher education programs to address tackling existing oppressive structures and discourses in our society (see chapter 8). These radical approaches have the potential to break the contradictions Anyon (1981) describes in her work around practical and theoretical consciousness. Kumashiro, Sleeter and Grant want teachers to encourage resistance and student empowerment. In short, they want the classroom to foster the development of counter-hegemonic discourses so that one day a more socially just society may be realized. This chapter has primarily focused on the conceptual framework for the entire study. I w i l l focus on the discourses used in the curriculum and in the teacher interviews to ascertain the influence of the three main political ideologies that arose out of the Enlightenment, namely, liberalism, socialism, and conservatism. (Note: In the contemporary context I refer to what began as socialism as the radical ideology to remain in keeping with the academic literature base I used.) It is my hope that some of these findings wi l l be useful for the purpose of teaching for social justice. If the study's findings lead to valuable suggestions that w i l l improve the formal social studies curriculum and social studies teacher education programs in British Columbia, then it has been worth the effort. Improvement for me refers to increased likelihood of B . C . social studies education including the progressive aims of social justice. Chapter 3 describes the methodology I used to analyze the data for both components of this research that enabled me to develop these suggestions. 1 There was a movement in France around 1870 and a lighter form of nationalism in early twenty-first century Canada. In France, the state elite deliberately created a national awareness "based on the democratic republic and republican equality" (Schwarzmantel, 1998, p. 139). The Canadian example relies on the differences between Canadian and American societies, with polls showing a national pride in institutions like public healthcare. 2 Historian Timothy Stanley argues that although liberalism, conservatism, and socialism are arguably the main ideologies of modernity operating in Canada today, there are others that have been of utmost 53 importance in both historical terms and in other places. These include "fascism, communism, imperialism, and bourgeois democratism" (personal communication, October 2004). 3 There are diverse opinions on the relevance of Marxism among feminists, environmentalists, and multiculturalists. Liberal forms of all of these social movements are particularly opposed to Marxist discourse, where as socialist and critical versions most often interpret these discourses in ways that strengthen their own theories. 4 Iris M. Young (2000) persuasively argues against equating "group-based social movements" with "identity politics" (p. 86). She contends that "social difference is not identity" (p. 87). Instead, she suggests that it is better to consider "social group differentiation in relational rather than substantial terms" (p. 89). Young furthers her argument by describing social movements motivated by the experiences of groups based on gender, race, class, sexuality, and ability - including intersections with cultural differences - as "attempts to politicize and protest structural inequalities that they perceive unfairly privilege some social segments and oppress others" (p. 92). "Multicultural politics concerning freedom of expression [and] the content of curricula ... can properly be called 'identity politics.' Most [of these] group-conscious political claims, however, are ... claims for fairness, equal opportunity, and political inclusion" (p. 107). 5 According to R. W. Connell (2004), socialists have been unfairly maligned by certain postmodernist critiques, at least in the Australian context. Making a distinction between socialism and Marxism, Connell notes that "there is a tolerant and humane tradition in socialism which was well adapted to the recognition of difference, and actually had provided important support to the new movements - the peace movement, the Aboriginal movement, feminism, and gay liberation among them. This tradition was simply ignored by the anti-Marxist polemics of the 1980s" (p. 22). 54 Chapter 3 Methodology and Methods It w i l l be useful at this point to re-state the research question. How has political ideology influenced discourses of race and class in both the formal curriculum and teacher attitudes in social studies education? From the question itself, it is clear that there are two main sources of data: the formal curriculum that contains what teachers are expected to teach, and the attitudes of the teachers themselves. The conceptual and theoretical considerations that helped me frame the entire study and that I described in chapter 2 relate to both data sources. Consequently, the methodology section w i l l be divided into two parts, one describing the thinking that went into each component of the research. The first one pertains to the study of the curriculum itself, an evolving document that has been published by the B . C . government on seven different occasions throughout the twentieth century. This entire study addresses the question of how political ideology affects social studies education, especially in terms of race and social class. More specifically, the ways that issues of race and class are represented in the formal curriculum and the ways that teachers think about them form the areas that this project explores. I w i l l begin by describing the theory and methodology of the curricular aspect of the research. Both data sources wi l l provide the content for chapter 5 on race and ideology, for chapter 6 on social class and ideology, and for chapter 7 on democracy and ideology. (The purpose of chapter 4 is mainly for context. It is a brief analysis of some of the research about the social conditions that led to a system of white privilege in British Columbia and how the public education system worked to entrench this privilege.) The textual analysis of the formal curriculum can be summarized as the ways in which political ideology has influenced the state-sanctioned social studies curriculum in British Columbia. But before we get there, I must explain the background theory and methodology used in the textual analysis of the social studies curriculum. 55 3.1 A TEXTUAL ANALYSIS of CURRICULUM 3.1.1 Background Theory In chapter 2,1 discussed the conceptual framework that informed the entire research project, focusing on ideology, discourse, and hegemony in general terms. Ideology impacts upon a variety of aspects of schooling, including school organization and scheduling, evaluation, and the curriculum, including the issue of streaming, of course. Even the structure and relationship between school personnel and parent groups are ideological. Before addressing the methods involved with the two distinct data analyses, I want to discuss the ways that the different political ideologies conceive of concepts germane to this part of the research, namely, the role of the school and the curriculum. I include a brief discussion on the school's role as conceived by conservatives, liberals, and radicals for the beginning point of the discussion. The Role of the School and Political Ideology The school promoters of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were clear that schools were needed as much fo r political as educational reasons. The curriculum had to be shaped, textbooks wr i t ten, teachers trained and inspected, and children compelled to attend school, in order to preserve or create a particular social order. (Ken Osborne, 1995, p. 16) Broadly stated, the role of the school is central to any discussion about the purpose of public education for a society. A s I mentioned earlier, the purpose of public education has been the focus of hotly contested debates since its inception, in British Columbia and elsewhere. A t the core of many of these debates is how best to socialize youth to become a certain kind of citizen. In Exploring Education (1994), Sadovnik, Cookson, and Semel discuss the role of the school from the three political perspectives with which I am concerned. They have discerned that 56 conservatives see the school's role as "providing the necessary training to ensure that the most talented and hard-working individuals receive the tools necessary to maximize economic and social productivity" (p. 8). In British Columbia, the Putnam-Weir Report (1925) called for schools to provide the shop training for boys and domestic science training (later referred to as home economics) for girls so that they might realize their economic potential. According to their taxonomy, Sadovnik, Cookson, and Semel would view the Putnam-Weir Report's role for the school as a conservative one. This indicates that the conservative ideology has adopted meritocracy from the more individual-oriented liberal ideology. The reason for this adaptation was most likely shifting popular attitudes across western nations. Traditional conservatism emphasized the maintenance of social hierarchies in order to maintain social cohesion. This focus, as w i l l be shown in chapter 4, allowed the school to be used to work against groups that were outside of the power nexus. A s the liberal ideology gained strength after the Second World War, multiculturalism became more mainstream in Canada, especially after the federal Liberal government under Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau enacted legislation in support of multiculturalism in 1971. Conservative leaders, therefore, were forced to accept multiculturalism, lest the charge of racism be leveled at them. Consequently, meritocracy became part of their ideology, as well . Conservatives accept student streaming as a most efficient way of accomplishing this task, which should not be surprising when one considers the demographics of students streamed into the less academic school programs. These students are most often from immigrant and poor families (Kelly, 1993; James, 1990); they are also more likely to become members of the working class (Curtis, Livingstone, & Smaller, 1992). Considering that the discussion in chapter 2 emphasized conservative support for social hierarchies as the best way to maintain social cohesion, the adoption of meritocracy in our contemporary society makes sense. 57 Liberals also see the role of the school as providing social skills and training for the demands of work. They differ from the conservatives, however, in that they emphasize the importance of the school to ensure equal educational opportunity for each student, regardless of background. This is consistent with the emancipation-of-all doctrine in classic liberalism that developed during the Enlightenment. A s far as the role of the school is concerned, liberalism claims to level the playing field for each student to succeed and through the notion of meritocracy, differentiate as to the roles each individual w i l l fill once they have left school. Yet, the liberal version of meritocracy ignores the fact that most modified high school programs are filled with students from economically and socially marginalized families. In sum, liberals view public education as the best vehicle for "redressing social inequalities through the equalization of educational opportunity" (Apple, 1990, p. 18). Yet, their focus on the decontextualized individual ignores the ways that power works to privilege students from certain backgrounds while oppressing others. Radicals, on the other hand, view the liberal notion of "equality of opportunity as an illusion" (Sadovnik et al., 1994, p. 9). Whether a conscious political strategy or not, both equality of opportunity and meritocracy serve to placate the masses, regardless of racial and class background, into thinking that "they have been given a fair chance, when in fact they have not" {ibid., p. 9). One radical view stresses that to a large extent schools have been used to reproduce the unequal social and economic relations endemic to capitalist society (Bowles & Gintis, 1976). Radical resistance theorists (Will is , 1977, Giroux, 1983) have countered that schools are also the sites for agency on the part of students and teachers engaged in counter-hegemonic discourse formulation. Often, this requires an alteration of the formal curriculum into what E . Wayne Ross (2001) calls the enacted curriculum, or the way teachers and students engage with the course content. 58 Typically, radical educators are against the practice of streaming. This stance is because of the association between this practice and the future life chances of students. Streaming serves to more or less entrench students into certain pathways with varying degrees of opportunities. In terms of race and class, less academic streams are most often filled with students from less privileged backgrounds. I would like to make one more clarification about ideological perspectives and the curriculum that proved to be helpful in the data analysis. In Experience and Education (1938), John Dewey described different approaches to education, which he used to create a binary he called traditional versus progressive orientations. Sadovnik, Cookson, and Semel (1994) base their own taxonomy on the ideologies of conservatism, liberalism, and radicalism. Yet, they state that the boundaries between these three perspectives are not clearly delineated. In other words, where there is an overlap between conservatism and right-liberalism, they use the term traditional; similarly, for the overlap between left-liberalism and socialism or radicalism, they use the term progressive. They state the distinction as follows: "In a nutshell, traditionalists believe the schools should pass on the best of what was and what is, and progressives believe the schools should be part of the steady progress to make things better" (p. 28). I found the binary to be most useful in the data analysis where it was too difficult to distinguish between two ideologies. But what of curriculum? What differences do conservatives, liberals, and radicals hold about what the actual curriculum should look like? Before the discussion focuses on issues of race, I want to highlight how each of the political ideologies envision the formal curriculum. After all , Herbert Kliebard's The Struggle for the American Curriculum (1986) outlines the crucial ideological differences between competing groups during the first half of the twentieth century, each intent on using the document for its own agenda. There can be little doubt that similar struggles took place in Canada, as well . 59 Curriculum and Political Ideology Those who tel l the stor ies also hold the power. Plato Recognizing the importance of historical context, Michael Apple (1990) states that the entire field of school curriculum "has its roots in the soil of social control" (p. 47). In the Canadian context, Ken Osborne (1995) states that the curriculum was immediately seen as an important instrument in the molding of the population. Privileged whites hoped that the masses would accept a set of social relations that granted certain groups more privilege at the expense of others. In other words, the elites viewed the curriculum to be a powerful hegemonic device. Plato's quote above is succinct but instructive as to why this is the case. For example, i f workers held the power in our society, the formal curriculum would look a lot different than it does today. It would most likely be replete with stories of labour's battles with capitalists rather than an almost total omission of these struggles, as is especially the case with the most recent B . C . social studies curriculum (1997). Similarly, i f non-white people held the reins of power, the curriculum would most surely reflect this. Undoubtedly, it would be less Eurocentric. Tyack and Cuban (1995) claim that one of the biggest impediments to implementing a progressive curriculum in the United States is the long entrenched view that this is not what "real schools" do (p. 88). Osborne (1991) concurs that this is also the case in Canada (p. 80). But should "real schools" be used for social control? Is this a better role for schools and the school curriculum rather than the Dewey prescription of developing critically thinking citizens? M y position is that it is not. Obviously, there are conflicting ideologies here. This is understandable, especially i f one considers the curriculum to be a microcosm of the clash of cultural values in Canada as a whole. 60 A s mentioned in chapter 2, each political ideology socially constructs its own knowledge. B y corollary, school knowledge is not objective and value-free either but is a social construction tied to the interests, experiences and perceptions of those who produced and negotiated its meaning. A s A n n Manicom states (1995), the school curriculum is "the result of conscious and unconscious ideological choices, exercised within an explicitly political arena and mediated by the state" (p. 51). Stated more bluntly, the official knowledge in the formal curriculum or IRPs is political and most often serves the interests of those with the power to decide what gets into these documents. Michael Apple (1990) points out the irony in recalling that during the Cold War it was common to hear the American refrain that communist ideology was embedded in Soviet school curricula; yet, very few bothered to ask how political ideology was influencing American curricula (p. 8). In both societies it is the selection and organization of knowledge that is most influenced by the dominant political ideologies. This is a crucial point for my own research. R. W . Connell (1993) explains how and why the selection and organization of knowledge is hegemonic: a) it marginalizes other ways of organizing knowledge (and other perspectives) b) it is integrated with the structure of power in educational institutions (and in society) c) it occupies the high culture ground, defining most people's common-sense views of what learning ought to be. (Connell, 1993, p. 38) Connell calls for the curriculum to be altered to reflect the "standpoint of the least advantaged" (p. 43), or that educational matters be considered from the perspective of the oppressed rather than the privileged. I agree with Connell 's position; yet, I cannot see how they would be implemented, given the conservative backlash to Gary Nash's (1994) attempt to create national standards for teaching high school history in the United States (see chapter 2 for a more indepth discussion). 61 In the textual analysis of chapters 5, 6, and 7,1 w i l l explore the dominant discourses in the curriculum about race, class, and democracy and make connections with the ways in which these discourses work to entrench power in the ranks of the already privileged social groups in British Columbia. Apple (1990) claims that "education [is] not a neutral enterprise" (p. 1). B y corollary, I contend that the curriculum is not an apolitical or neutral document. Indeed, I maintain that the formal social studies curriculum can be viewed as a set of discourses, or a discursive formation, connected to power. Epistemologically, this notion assumes that knowledge is socially constructed, of course, and that school knowledge has a political dimension. With this assumption, I am clearly positioned, along with Apple, within the radical ideology. In fact, the ideas in Michael Apple 's Ideology and Curriculum (1990) have been especially important in shaping my analysis of the B . C . social studies curriculum. Apple 's method of relational analyses focuses on the ways in which the content of the school curriculum, seen as official knowledge, supports the economic and political interests of the most powerful people in our society. What gets told, who gets to tell it, and how everyone else is represented are crucial factors in the social relations of any society. Apple calls for research to study the relationship between curricular knowledge and power. The data analyses in chapters 5, 6, and 7 attempt to do just that in the context of British Columbia. Apple 's theory about the relationship between curricular content and economic and political interests is straightforward. Schools do not exist in a social vacuum. They are inextricably linked to the values of the surrounding communities. A n example of Apple 's theory in a historical context can be seen in chapter 4, the focus of which is on how whiteness came to be imposed on the region now known as British Columbia. It describes the entrenchment of the conservative ideology from the beginning of its public education system in the 1870s through the nation-building phase that ended in 62 the 1920s. A major part of this research is to discern the ways in which the social studies curriculum was influenced by conservatism and, in turn, worked to further entrench it. H o w were the discourses of white supremacy, Christianity and capitalism employed in the curriculum? This way of looking at curriculum and ideology w i l l be applied to subsequent versions, as well . A liberal school curriculum is less overt in the way social relations are presented. From the discussion in chapter 2, it is clear that the individual is the main social unit of the liberal ideology. It should not be surprising, therefore, that a liberal-influenced social studies curriculum would focus on the individual rather than any notion that hints at our social interdependence. A s Michael Apple (1990) states, the curriculum "does not situate the life of the individual, as an economic and social being, back into the unequal structural relations that produced the comfort the individual enjoys" (p. 10). If we can assume that the curriculum does, indeed, influence society, then this aspect of the curriculum can only help to create a legion of individual consumers who despise the social redistributive aspects of progressive taxation. Moreover, we are not able to clearly see how our comforts are produced, or who is producing them. Consequently, we get situations of race/class intersections in which sweatshop labourers abroad produce goods cheaply that we use, and when some of these exploited workers attempt to escape to North America, as with what occurred when boatloads of Chinese migrants appeared off the B . C . coast in 1999, we respond with outrage (Klein, 1999). B y rendering the connection between material production and consumption invisible, unethical aspects of capitalism also remain hidden. In this way, the liberal-influenced curriculum acts as a hegemonic device. A social studies curriculum influenced by a radical political ideology is undoubtedly a most rare occurrence in North American public education systems. I f we assume that Althusser (1971) was correct in labeling the school as part of the ideological state apparatus, this situation is understandable, especially from the standpoint of the privileged. That said, it is still possible to articulate what a radical 63 social studies curriculum might look like based on the tenets of socialism and postmodern criticisms of it. Ken Osborne (1988, 1991, 1995) and Bob Connell (1993) and others have written on this very topic. I would suggest that if, for instance, Canadian history was taught as a series of conflicts between social groups, a better understanding of our present tensions and hostilities throughout the entire population would result. A s Gerald Graf (1994) states, "[w]hen a country is little known, fabulous and monstrous tales readily circulate about it" (p. 4). In present-day Canada, many white people see the all-Native fisheries as blatantly racist in their apparently preferential treatment of First Nations people, rather than as part of a small concession Europeans "gave" Natives in 1763 under the legal concept of Aboriginal Title. Similarly, a near absence of the history of labour struggles and class antagonisms, such as a liberal curriculum would look like, puts all the gains made by the struggles of working-class people in jeopardy. Not surprisingly, both Canadians and Americans are currently experiencing a concerted attack on the vestiges of the social welfare state. We can only speculate about how much more difficult this would be for today's neoconservatives i f the majority of people were aware of past struggles. A radical social studies curriculum would rectify this omission. In order for a radical social studies curriculum to be accepted and implemented, however, large segments of society must recognize the legitimacy of the numerous social struggles. Protest, and c iv i l disobedience have been productive avenues of dissent in the Canadian past. Yet, conservative and right-liberal elements do not support schools to become involved in these struggles. It is ironic that the mainstream media considers race, class, gender, and sexuality conflicts to be understandable in our contemporary society and legitimate topics for popular culture and public hearings to address. These same media outlets, however, w i l l produce catastrophic visions and help to create a public backlash should the public school social studies curriculum attempt to address similar topics. Part of the problem is the widespread belief that the role of the school is not for these purposes. M y position is that this 64 belief has become so widespread because of vested interests in maintaining the status quo. A radical curriculum would go far to help sway the public in understanding how power is involved even in the dissemination of views around the role of the school in general and the curriculum in particular. Before there can be a serious call for a radical social studies curriculum, however, there must be a case made as to how either conservatism and liberalism, or both, have been at the root of each social studies curriculum in British Columbia. In other words, a careful examination of each curriculum necessarily had to be undertaken, specifically looking for indicators of ideology in the ways race and multiculturalism, social class and economics, and democracy and citizenship have been represented. I w i l l now discuss the actual methodology I used for examining political ideology in the social studies curriculum itself. 3.2 METHODOLOGY for the ANALYSIS of the CURRICULUM [The] cr i t ical study of the relationship between ideologies and educational thought and practice [is] one of the most neglected areas of educational scholarship. (Michael Apple, 1990, pp. 13-14). The formal curriculum is considered to be authoritative "official knowledge" by the majority of the public (Apple, 1990; Osborne, 1995). Not so well understood is Michael Apple 's assertion that the official knowledge found in the curriculum most often supports the status quo in ways that are difficult to detect. Yet, as Apple suggests in the above quote, very few educators have endeavoured to undertake an examination of how political ideology influences the various aspects of public education. In this section, I w i l l elaborate on my claim in the previous section that political ideology is at the root of the social studies curriculum. But this time the focus wi l l switch to how I w i l l analyze the data, namely, the social studies curriculum. In chapters 5, 6, and 7,1 w i l l demonstrate the ways in which 65 this occurs. This section discusses key words and concepts I focused on in the textual analysis of the formal B . C . curriculum. The first official B . C . high school social studies curriculum appeared in 1941. Revised versions appeared in 1949, 1956, 1968, 1980, 1988, and the one that is used today, published in 1997 (B.C. Ministry of Education archives). Prior to the B . C . government developing and mandating curricula, it used to publish annual reports. Included in these reports were suggested year-end examination questions for the core subjects such as social studies. I was able to locate copies of these year-end exams only for the years 1926 to 1933 (B .C. Department of Education). Although not as comprehensive a data source as a curriculum, the annual reports allow a glimpse into the content teachers were expected to cover in social studies. The teachers taught with these exam questions in mind, questions that both indicated and shaped social attitudes toward what kind of knowledge was considered important during those years. For the purposes of this analysis, they also make possible a discussion of how political ideology was at the root of what students were expected to know. There is another important reason I am interested in understanding the social studies curriculum, and in particular, its history and influence: an understanding may help to politicize public discussion about the curriculum itself. So often media control of the discourses around schooling today are ahistorical, a situation that is in itself political, concealing the workings of power to the extent that privilege is maintained or even extended further. B y focusing on the ideologies in the curriculum itself, discussions about it have a better chance of becoming politicized and capable of emphasizing how power is implicated. A n examination of the evolution of the B . C . social studies curriculum w i l l go far to illuminate these processes and related ideologies. Concern for space, however, restricted me to pulling the relevant statements from the documents and analyzing them in a somewhat decontextualized format. 66 Chapter 5 begins with a discussion about the ways the three major ideologies of modernity conceive of race and racial issues. In examining how the B . C . Department of Education Annual Reports for 1926 to 1933 and the B . C . social studies curricula from 1941 to 1997 represented racial issues, I noted every mention of the following words or terms (and their derivatives) in their context: Empire, imperialism, colonialization, British, European, French, German, Indian, Eskimo, Moslem, Muslim, Asia, India, Japan, China, Aboriginal, Inuit, Native, First Nations and multiculturalism. A n y of these statements that were useful to this part of my project, namely, to determine the political ideology underlying curricular representations of race and social class, were part of the overall analysis. There are too many statements to analyze all of them, of course, so I have pulled the most representative ones that are indicative of how issues of race were represented. It is difficult to explain precisely what the decision rules were that led to some statements being pulled while others were not. After a comprehensive and systematic reading of the documents, the main criterion in choosing which ones were most representative was simply in using any salient statement emanating from an ideology. O f course, the issue of "salience" comes to the surface, best illuminated by way of example. The 1956 curriculum has a grade 11 unit called The Path to Nationhood (pp. 80-82). A reference to the Royal Proclamation of 1763 focused on English and French relations with no mention whatsoever of any Aboriginal concerns. Yet, for the past 30 years this document has been at the root of Aboriginal land treaties and Title negotiations. Students in the late 1950s would have had no idea that much legal effort had been devoted to relations between Europeans and First Nations people. This omission from what counts as official knowledge is a hegemonic device that serves to further entrench the essentialist discourse of white supremacy and the conservative ideology. The discourses pertaining to race and multiculturalism are the on-the-ground tools I used in this critical discourse analysis. I w i l l discuss 67 these discourses and the various forms of multiculturalism in the first section of chapter 5. The following section of chapter 5 w i l l be the actual textual analysis addressing how the various political ideologies are involved in the representation of race. In chapter 6,1 analyze how issues of social class are represented in social studies. For the textual analysis section, I studied all of the Annual Reports and curricula for any reference to the following list o f words: working class, middle class, capitalism, economics, trade unions, corporations, workers, and immigrants. B y taking each reference within its context, I was able to determine the influential ideologies by using the major discourses that w i l l be discussed in the first part of chapter 6. A s well , I have included a brief textual analysis of the individual versus the community in this section. Although not always pertaining to economic issues, most often they are. These concepts are related through the tension of the well being of all citizens versus a few. The final chapter of data analysis is chapter 7. Its focus is on the related concepts of democracy and citizenship. After all , this is a study of how race and class are portrayed in the social studies classroom. Democracy and citizenship are notions of inclusiveness, of acceptance into a society, of being allowed to engage in the distribution of power. This involves enfranchisement, of course, as well as other aspects of democratic citizenship in our society. There was only one reference to democracy or citizenship in the Department of Education Annual Reports from 1926 to 1933. Therefore, the seven versions of the curriculum are the main data source for the textual analysis. To determine which political ideology was influential, I looked at the entire documents, from the introduction and rationale to the learning objectives and suggestions for teachers. In examining the curricula, anytime I came across the words democracy or citizenship (or any derivatives such as democratic or citizen), I took note of it and the context in which it was written. 68 This examination of the evolution of the B . C . social studies curriculum across most of the past century w i l l at least partially address how the curriculum responded to different social and ideological pressures, at least in terms of race and class. In order to accomplish this examination, the categories under study are imperialism and representation of the racial Other (chapter 5), struggles within capitalism (chapter 6), and democracy and citizenship (chapter 7). To help with the curricular analysis, I w i l l show how the different ideologies and related discourses are involved. These discourses w i l l be described at the beginning of each of the data analysis chapters. The curricular documents were only one data source for this research project. Another source of data were the interviews I conducted with ten social studies department heads in Vancouver secondary schools. 3.3 METHODOLOGICAL ISSUES with the INTER VIEWING of TEA CHERS Schools are sites of contestation between differing political ideologies. I believe that most teachers, indeed most people, are influenced by more than one ideology. This part of the research explores the degree to which each of the major ideologies influences the social studies teachers about how they think, and by corollary, teach about race and class. It is also about which discourses they are using when they speak about how they teach about these issues. After all , discourses can be viewed as the ideas and practices in support of the various ideologies. A s Miche l Foucault (1970) reminds us, discourse is always connected to power. Consequently, identifying the discourses that the teachers use is a significant part of determining how ideology is influencing their ways of viewing issues of race and social class. A s discussed in chapter 2,1 do not view conservatism as containing the blueprint for a socially just society. Why am I so strongly opposed to the conservative ideology? Why do I support 69 certain aspects of liberalism and not others? It is time for me to explain more clearly what my own views are and the reasons for these views. In short, it is time for me to explain how political ideology influences the way I see and move through the world. After all , I am a veteran social studies teacher who interviewed other veteran social studies teachers, a clear example of studying sideways. I am aware of the many pedagogical choices a teacher faces. This awareness sensitized me around which areas to probe and which probing techniques to employ, at least most of the time. Although my intentions were to engage in good and respectful research, inevitably there are issues that remain when engaged with the interview method. 3.4 ISSUES WITH THE INTER VIEW METHOD The issue of power is a concern with all qualitative research. The interview method is no exception as there is a potential power differential during an interview between the interviewee and the interviewer. Feminist approaches to interviewing have highlighted the role of power in the process, particularly on the part of the researcher (Roman, 1992). To this concern, I had no interest in deceiving the teachers who are sharing their experiences with me; rather, my goal is to ascertain how political ideology influences the ways they see issues of race and class. The approach I used is what Kvale (1996) refers to as a "hermeneutics of suspicion" (p. 203), which I w i l l speak to in the next section on analyzing the data from the interviews. Although it might be argued that there is an ethical concern about not informing each participant that I am attempting to ascertain influential ideologies, they were each aware beforehand that I was interested in the ways they thought about issues of race and class. A s Kvale explains, by employing a hermeneutics of suspicion approach, I was better able to ascertain the dominant ideology without that specific concept entering into the conversation. 70 A power differential was not the case with these interviews as every one of the participants was a white, male veteran teacher, as I am. A s a veteran teacher myself, I consider the ten department heads to be my peers, although I am not quite sure how they saw me in professional terms. Most of them are aware that I have been a teacher for a significant length of time. I perceived the relationship in this part of the research to be one of studying sideways, rather than studying up. There is no question that my status as an insider, as someone who has experienced the trials and tribulations of teaching youth, helped in developing a rapport with the participants. It allowed the participants to be more relaxed and perhaps more open than they might have been i f I was not a teacher. There were several occasions like the one in which an interviewee responded to one of my questions with, "Wel l , you know how it is, Paul. You 've been through this, too." They would then proceed to give their views on the question asked. Yet, I do have one serious concern in interpreting and analyzing the data from these interviews: this part of the research did not include any triangulation. B y triangulation, I am referring to the qualitative strategy of corroborating what has been found in one data source by testing it in different settings or data sources. H o w closely did the teachers' descriptions of how they think and teach about issues of race and class match what they actually do and say in the classroom? A s Hollway and Jefferson (2000) ask, "[w]hat is the relation between the word and the world!" (p. 32). In addressing this concern, I had to make some assumptions. I assumed that the teachers tried their best to describe what they think they are doing in the classroom. In order to answer the research question itself, I assume that the data generated from the interviews was sufficient to help me explore the ideologies influencing their views and their pedagogical strategies. In other words, the data allowed me to determine and claim that, at the least, this is how the teachers think about their teaching about issues of race and class. Many of the questions I asked were open-ended, designed to 71 provide ample space for the participants to describe their own experience as a teacher. The question posed by Hollway and Jefferson of what meaning to apply to these descriptions is an important one. Yet, Silverman (2001) points out that triangulation does not necessarily translate into more validity. This position supports my rejection of the postpositivist notion of objective truth. Acknowledging the social construction of knowledge in the curriculum also applies to what is being created during interviews. In other words, I disagree with traditional research models that state the positivist notion that knowledge is objective (Kvale, 1996; Hollway & Jefferson, 2000). James Joseph Scheurich (1995) takes the argument to the other extreme. He theorizes about the ambiguities of interviewing, effectively arguing against the positivist and postpositivist assumption that "reality is knowable" (p. 240). According to Scheurich, change the interviewer, and the content of the "conversation" changes. Moreover, the relationship between language and meaning . . . [is] subject to endless interpretation." In other words, bias is always present and, therefore, reality is not knowable. I am only in partial agreement with Scheurich's line of reasoning, however. I agree that another interviewer might ask different questions and probe in different areas and with differing intensity. Yet, to me there is no question that, at the least, a partial description of reality was created during the interviews and the subsequent data analysis. For example, i f a teacher claims that poverty exists because the poor have "weak genes," as one said during an interview, then I can assume that he has been influenced to some degree by conservatism, at least in regards to the poor. But before I describe the data analysis process and address other issues with analyzing interviews, I wish to explain the actual recruitment of participants, as well as describe some of their characteristics. 72 3.4.1 Recruiting Participants The process of getting ten veteran teachers to participate in this study was not as straightforward as one might assume. For one thing, for the past 3 years the neoconservative B . C . government has been engaged in a political struggle over public education, which has resulted in more work for teachers, increased class sizes, and a decrease in their morale. A s a teacher myself, I am very aware of time constraints all o f the participants were under. This is the prime reason for conducting only one interview with each of the teachers, between 60 and 90 minutes in length. Rather than selecting participating teachers at random, I opted for a purposive sampling strategy. I chose to interview ten head teachers of social studies departments, also known as teacher leaders, to be chosen from the eighteen public high schools located in the Vancouver School District. There are several reasons for recruiting department heads. First, I cannot be criticized with bias in the selection process as easily (i.e., I cannot be charged with loading the sample with too many radical teachers, or with too many conservative teachers, etc.). Second, and more important, department heads are veteran teachers who often act as mentors to their more junior colleagues. Moreover, they often have the last word on what extra resources the cash-strapped departments purchase. In addition, as veterans they are well positioned to speak about educational matters relating to curriculum from a professional perspective (e.g., mass testing) arid pertaining to the local context (i.e., student racial and class background). In other words, department heads are best positioned to understand how curriculum is context shaped, or what Catherine Cornbleth (1990) calls the "structural and sociocultural" aspects of pedagogy (p. 6). I received permission to do this research from both the U B C ethics committee and the Vancouver School Board in the late autumn of 2002. Shortly thereafter, I sent out a letter of initial contact to each of the department head teachers in the eighteen Vancouver high schools. O f the 18 73 department heads, all were white and 17 were male. (This, of course, may be the result of systemic racism and sexism. It may also speak to the power of patriarchal and white supremacist discourses.) Two of the teachers, both of whom worked with me at the same schools in previous years, phoned to accept the invitation. I received one written response, a brief note from the one female teacher, explaining that she was finding herself increasingly busy with the changes occurring in B . C . ' s public education system, too much so to participate in the study. N o one else responded to the letter. I decided that the letter of initial contact might not have been enough to recruit ten department head teachers. Through use of the telephone, I was able to convince eight more teachers to participate. I believe that focusing on my own role as a teacher was instrumental in recruiting the needed participants. O f the three refusals, two of them were close to retirement. It is noteworthy that both of them cited past academic studies in which they had participated that had led to a sense of betrayal -the researcher had taken their quotes out of context and, according to the teachers, painted them in a less than flattering light. I accepted their refusal, o f course, and the logic behind their decision. Their reasoning, however, forced me to reflect on the degree to which I was forthcoming with these potential recruits. I was frank about wanting to talk with them about issues of race and social class as well as aspects of teaching for social justice. The teachers were also aware that I would be focusing on their thoughts about the curriculum and restrictions they felt from its representations of race and class issues. The discussion around their responses w i l l be in the data analysis sections of chapters 5, 6, and 7. A t this point, I w i l l introduce the ten participants. 74 3.4.2 The Participants Ten teachers participated in the study, each one a white man. (See Table 1.) It is significant that eight of the ten participating head teachers had British surnames. (One had a German surname and another had a Dutch name.) I consider this significant because the entire study is an exploration of how issues of race and class have evolved ever since the first 500 British settlers came to set up a British colony on Vancouver Island in the 1840s. I have attempted to create ten teacher pseudonyms that reflect this ethnic breakdown. (To avoid any identification of the participants, the school names have also been changed.) Although I was by no means wedded to the idea of equal representation from the east side working-class schools and the west side middle-class and upper middle-class schools, this happened to be how the sample turned out. (I knew I needed some from both parts of the city, o f course, but I thought it would be too difficult to ensure a symmetrical outcome.) This proved to be fortunate in that I could make comparisons about the importance teachers place on social class, for example, in the identity construction of their students. The class backgrounds the teachers grew up in were 5 working class, 3 middle class, and 2 unknown. (Note: I did not ask for this information, but it came out during the interviews.) Knowing the class backgrounds of the teachers allowed me space to better understand why they thought about class issues the way they did. Six of the ten teachers were older than me. The age range was from their late 30s to their late 50s. Two of the teachers were in their final years before retirement, both having already taught for over 30 years. The teacher with the least experience was in his ninth year. The rest had between 13 and 23 years of teaching experience each. (On average, the teaching experience of the group was 20 years.) One was in his sixteenth year of being a head teacher. (The Vancouver 75 Table #1: Participating Head Teachers of Social Studies Departments East Side Schools Name School Yrs Teaching Yrs Dept. Head Student Demographics Other Craig Evans - Victoria Park 23 16 90% working class 80% East Asian • Christian • working-class upbringing Steve Graham - Turner 95% working class most racial groups middle-class upbringing Hal Nagel Hedley 19 12 80% working class most racial groups taught on a reserve Larry Nelson - Larson 31 70% working class 80% East Asian working-class upbringing Carl Tragas - Wilson Heights 34 85% working class over 50% ESL working-class upbringing • geography major West Side Schools Dave Carson - Hudson 15 equal groups of - geog/PE major working, middle & - middle-class upper middle classes upbringing Ed Hitchcock - Kipling 23 mostly upper-middle class 70% Asian • music/history major working-class upbringing Barry Kelvin -Chamberlain 19 12 • mostly upper-middle - MA in curriculum class - under-class • 50% Asian, 50% Euro upbringing Tim Patterson - Greenway 13 mostly upper-middle class 60% East Asian, 40% European middle-class upbringing Eric Quinn - Warner 18 6 - mostly upper-middle class - 70% East Asian - Christian, middle-class upbringing 76 School Board instituted head teaching positions 16 years earlier.) The rest had been head teachers for between 3 and 12 years. (The participant group average for being the social studies department head was 7 years.) Eight of the ten were history majors, while the other two majored in geography. One of the history majors was also a music teacher, while one of the geography specialists also majored in physical education. It is significant that while we were setting up for the interview, usually in the teacher's actual classroom, unsolicited views came to me from eight of the ten participants around provincial politics. A l l eight claimed that they supported the New Democratic Party, a social democratic party opposed to the neoconservative policies of the current Liberal government in the province. Yet, even from this group of eight, they often espoused views consistent with conservative notions of race and social class during the interviews. In fact, this contradictory consciousness is consistent with what I found throughout the entire analysis of the interviews, namely, that most people were influenced by more than one ideology. The most influential ideology depended on what aspect of life was under consideration (see Lakoff, 1996). 3.4.3 Data Analysis Issues A s I have mentioned in chapter 2, discourse is always connected to desire and power, connections that are to remain hidden i f desire and power are to manifest themselves in the public debates. In Text and Discourse in Education: An Introduction to Critical Discourse Analysis (1995), Australian educator Al l an Luke focuses on the relationship between discourse and power. Luke calls for sociologists of education to focus on power in the same manner that Michael Apple (1990) wants curriculum researchers to focus on it; that is, the link between discourse and larger social formations. In other words, both Luke and Apple want researchers to ask who benefits from the various 77 discourses. More specifically, Luke's work provides the basis for a particular version of critical discourse analysis, which combines discourse analysis with ideology critique. M y project fits in well with Luke's version of critical discourse analysis because it has been my intention to "document how larger patterns of social reproduction and cultural representation occur" (p. 7), as Luke puts it, . especially on issues of race and social class. In other words, it is not my intention to engage in a microanalysis involving semiotics in linguistics; rather, my goal in this part of the study is to see which large-scale discourses the teachers are using in their responses to my questions. In the same manner that the curricular analysis of my research is a response to Apple, this part of the study is at least a partial response to Luke. Yet, the actual details of the data analysis methodology are based on the work of Steinar Kvale (1996). In Interviews: An Introduction to Qualitative Research Interviewing (1996), Kvale provides a detailed "seven stages of interview investigation" (p. 88) that provided much of the guiding framework for the data analysis of the ten interviews I conducted. Indeed, Kvale 's first three stages include "thematizing" (the rationale for my research questions), "designing" (basing the interview questions on what I want to know), and "interviewing" (building rapport and being able to effectively probe). I have discussed much of the thematic reasoning already in chapter 1. In the next section I w i l l provide some of the reasoning that went into the design of the interview questions. (See Appendix 1.) Kvale examines the role of transcribing, his fourth stage, in a detailed fashion that proved to be helpful to this study. A l l ten interviews were audiotaped, although this did not seem to be a distraction. For each one, I took copious notes as the interviewee spoke. These notes occasionally helped with the transcriptions, especially where there were some inaudible moments in the tape. Note-taking also helped me with active listening, and the ability to effectively probe as I listened to the teacher's responses. Although I used three transcribers, including myself, I gave the others the 78 same instructions for transcribing that I used, a safeguard that improves reliability, according to Kvale (p. 170). Yet, despite these precautions, Kvale reminds researchers to be careful with the rules governing written speech from what was originally spoken: "Transcripts are not copies or representations of some original reality, they are interpretative constructions that are useful tools for given purposes" (p. 165). To use a helpful cliche, Kvale wants us to bear in mind that the map is not the territory. For instance, visual discomfort on the part of the interviewee during questioning does not appear in the transcript. Nor does sighing, as one teacher began to do when he figured out that I was not interested in his vast knowledge of military history. In order to maintain rapport as best I could, his sighs of disappointment led me to probe differently. (Yet, the sighs appeared in my notes.) Kvale 's point is well taken in that the comfort level of the participants often affected the way I probed. I indicate some of these effects in the analysis sections of chapters 5, 6, and 7. Kvale 's fifth stage is on the data analysis itself. He emphasizes that the statements made by the participant during the interview have not been merely collected; rather, they have been co-authored with the interviewer (p. 183). I f the researcher forgets the co-authoring aspect, a "biased view of the interview as merely reflecting the interviewee" may result (p. 183). It is much better to consider the "analysis of the transcribed interviews [as] a continuation of the conversation that started in the interview situation" (p. 184). For me, this was a very enjoyable part of the research as I was able to use my knowledge of political ideology and my experience in the act of teaching to engage in an "imagined dialogue with the text, unfolding its horizon of possible meanings" (p. 184). Before the imagined dialogue occurs, however, there are some ways for the analysis to develop during the actual interview itself. A n example of this occurred when one of the participants, Dave Carson, remarked during my probing around teaching about social class issues, "Geez, I really don't teach anything about [class]. But I think I should." Several minutes later he added, "The reason 79 why I don't teach anything about the underlying reasons for poverty is because I really don't understand enough about it myself. A n d I 'm too busy to spend time teaching myself about it." Carson was able to make these connections himself, free of interpretation on my part. Yet, my own political perspective is clearly influencing the interview, as well . Traditional researchers are less likely to be inquisitive about social class issues in public education. Another example of spontaneous analysis occurred during the interview with E d Hitchcock, a teacher at an upper middle-class west side school, only this time my own political ideology influenced the co-authoring. We were discussing why Aboriginal students graduate from B . C . high schools at lower rates than other students. Hitchcock suggested that perhaps it has to do with their physiology and their inability to use alcohol appropriately. I suggested that it has more to do with their experience with colonialism rather than their physiology, to which he agreed that this alternative explanation might have some merit. (See analysis of teacher interviews in chapter 5.) M y suggestion also indicates that the radical postcolonial perspective has influenced my personal politics on this issue. Analysis can also develop during the interview when the interviewer "condenses and interprets the meaning of what the interviewee describes, and 'sends' the meaning back" (p. 189). This "self-correcting" aspect occurred several times during the interviews. I attempted this during the interview with E d Hitchcock. This time, we were discussing the meaning of multicultural education. Hitchcock's perspective was a preamble of experiences he has had with "visiting Japanese officials and students" and appropriate behaviour. (See analysis of teacher interviews in chapter 5.) M y response involved what Kvale calls condensing and interpreting the meaning of Hitchcock's description. I suggested that what he was describing was "an appreciation of different cultures." Hitchcock was able to clarify his point further, "self-correcting" my interpretation. 80 Once the interview is over, of course, the researcher is alone with the data, especially as in my case in which there were no further plans to go back to the interviewees with the findings. I would have liked to have had a chance to meet with the teachers a second time. Member checks might have strengthened the data analysis. Yet, almost all of the teachers voiced the same comment: they were simply too busy to revisit the ongoing research. I completely understood their reluctance. Finding myself alone with the data, I turned to Kvale for help. In Interviews, he describes five approaches to interview analysis: condensation of meaning, categorization of meaning, structuring of meaning through narratives, interpretation of meaning, and ad hoc methods for generating meaning (pp. 187- 204). Although I employed the first three techniques to some degree, I used the last two approaches extensively. I w i l l therefore explicate each of them here, particularly as they pertain to this project. With meaning condensation, there are two main goals (p. 194). The first is to ascertain the major thematic purpose for this part of the study, which for me is to determine how political ideology influences the ways social studies teachers view issues of race and class. The second is the methodological aim. In analyzing the transcripts, I am using a type of critical discourse analysis to aid in the identification of the influence of the various political ideologies with each of the participants. The second approach, which Kvale calls meaning categorization (p. 196), is to help the researcher develop the "main dimensions" and "subcategories" for analytical purposes. O f course, this approach is most helpful with quantitative studies with large sample sets. Yet, it is still helpful with qualitative studies such as this one. I was able to do meaning categorization by referring to a series of sources that included educational literature and previous interviews I have conducted with Deirdre Ke l ly ' s Teaching for Social Justice research at U B C . The main dimensions represent the 81 concepts best suited to help me answer the research questions. They are representation of and attitudes toward race, social class, and democracy and citizenship. Not coincidentally, all three of the main dimensions constitute the content of chapters 5, 6, and 7. The subcategories break down the main dimensions. The first step in the process is to design a few interview questions with each of the main dimensions in mind, followed by the creation of numerous categories that arose from each of the questions. For example, several questions of the interview schedule pertain to the main dimension about social class. From the teacher responses to these questions, I conceptualized the following sub-categories: social class as identity marker, poverty and graduation rates, labour issues, the teaching of conflict, curriculum relevance, mass testing, meritocracy, and streaming. A s well , several more sub-categories arose that demonstrated an axis of intersection between issues of race and social class. This process of categorizing made it possible to investigate differences among the department heads in how they view the class structure of Canadian society. Similar processes occurred with the other two main dimensions. I used the approach that Kvale calls meaning structuring through narratives (p. 199) several times throughout the data analysis. For instance, one of the teachers vehemently supported a pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps philosophy in response to my questions around poor students not graduating and curriculum relevance. Later on in the interview, this same teacher spoke of his own upbringing in which he lived in a family with mental health issues and welfare dependence. A t one point, he began to cry. The tears quickly dried up when he finished by stating how proud he was to be a successful educator with a Masters degree in education from U B C . I was able to put both stories, as well as a few others he told, into a "richer, more condensed and coherent story" that made connections from his childhood to his conservative political convictions around issues of poverty. 82 Throughout the analysis of all of the interviews, meaning structuring through narratives proved to be a useful approach. Kvale calls the fourth appoach to data analysis meaning interpretation (p. 201). He describes the meaning interpretation approach as follows: The interpreter goes beyond what is direct ly said to work out structures and relations of meaning not immediately apparent in a text . This requires a certain distance f rom what is said, which is achieved by a methodical or theoret ical stance, recontextualizing what is said in a specif ic conceptual context. (p. 201) A s I already mentioned, none of the participants were aware of my analytic focus, namely, to ascertain how political ideology influences issues of race and class in social studies. In other words, the data analysis was focused on the relations of meaning, or the discourses connected to political ideologies, on which the interviewee's ideas were based. Moreover, I was able to do this because of the theoretical stance with which I entered the project. A s I have mentioned in the section on my own social positionality, this theoretical stance would best be described as based in an anti-racist democratic socialism. A s an example of this, eight of the ten participants gave me unsolicited information about where they position themselves on the political spectrum, as I mentioned earlier in my brief descriptions of the teachers. They told me that they were either "left of centre" or always voted for the N D P , Canada's social democratic political party. Yet, from their own words, all eight actually exhibited conservative or liberal tendencies toward issues of race and class. Only one teacher, Steve Graham, consistently offered progressive responses to all o f the questions. I was often surprised when they would mention how they vote, given their views toward the Other. M y theoretical stance enabled me to not take their self-described political leanings at face value. Meaning interpretation is often based on a "mistrust toward the meanings directly expressed" (p. 203). A s an example of this, several of the social studies teachers who expressed sympathy for the 83 plight of First Nations students were strongly opposed to the implementation of First Nations Studies 12 (FNS 12), a course that addresses, among other things, post-contact history from an Aboriginal perspective. Some of these same teachers called this course "an apologist's approach to history" and a wrong-headed "attempt to correct the wrongs of history." For these teachers, Eurocentrism has long been rooted out of social studies curriculum. One of these participants remarked that even though the curriculum does not address First Nations issues enough, he is opposed to F N S 12 counting as a social studies credit. Another said he is opposed to the course because the situation for First Nations people in Canada has always been a lot better than in the United States, so "why should we do this course i f it's not even happening in the States?" Consequently, when a teacher claimed sympathy for the plight of First Nations students, I did not accept their attitudes at face value. In this study I tried to look for the underlying meaning of what the participants actually said. This is what Kvale means by the term "the hermeneutics of suspicion" (p. 203). Consistent with a neo-Marxist analytical approach, I often viewed the words of the teachers, especially those most influenced by conservatism and liberalism, as "manifestations of an ideology concealing the basic contradictions of the social and economic forces at work" (p. 203). After al l , the majority of them saw themselves as progressive educators. Yet, it is my understanding, coming from a more radical perspective, that for the most part these teachers were furthering the entrenchment of discourses that work to maintain the status quo. This is consistent with the concerns of Michael Apple (1990), who wanted these basic contradictions illuminated in the struggle around the curriculum. The fifth approach to data analysis, what Kvale calls ad hoc meaning generation, is a combination of the previous four approaches. A s such, I used this approach, as well . Kvale discusses thirteen tactics within this ad hoc approach. Many applied to what I did, but none so much as the twelfth and thirteenth: "building a logical chain of evidence" and "making conceptual/theoretical 84 coherence" of the data (p. 204). Both tactics, as Kvale refers to them, w i l l be demonstrated in the interview data analysis in chapters 5, 6, and 7. Kvale states that a major issue of analysis is the "theoretical presuppositions" with which a researcher enters a study (p. 206). I based this entire study on my understanding of the three main political ideologies emanating from modernity and asked how they influence social studies education in British Columbia today. I am asking why it is so difficult to implement social justice aspects around issues of race and class in the social studies classroom. I have already mentioned that it is the "unconscious meaning" rather than the "expressed meaning" (p. 211) of the words of the teachers that I am looking for. Kvale emphasizes the need for researchers to address the issue of a "plurality of interpretations" that can arise from the same body of data. I do not believe that there is only one correct interpretation of the data, a position that allows me to negate the importance of interpreter consensus. Yet, from my background reading on political ideology, I do believe that the manner in which I determined which political ideology was at work on each teacher as he gave a response was based on a consensus about these ideologies in academic circles. Although a careful reading of the interview data analysis sections in chapters 5, 6, and 7 might suggest otherwise, I am confident that there is some basis for the conclusions I have drawn and stated in chapter 8.1 wi l l now briefly address the reasoning that went into the design of the interview questions. 3.4.4 The Interview Questions I w i l l briefly discuss each of the questions on the interview schedule. (Please refer to Appendix 1.) Although it was my intention to ask each teacher the same questions, it did not always work out this way. The main reason for this was to maintain rapport, an aspect of interviewing (and 85 of qualitative research in general) that I find most crucial to its overall success. With the mostly open-ended questions in this schedule, I had to often rearrange the order of questions during the interview itself. This occurred in order to maintain the flow of the conversation. It was also a conscious decision on my part to mix up the topics I wanted to discuss with them. For example, I would not ask consecutive questions about aspects of social class; rather, there would be two or three questions about other topics between each one pertaining to social class. In advance of the interviews, I tried to determine the possible answers the teachers might offer to my questions. A t the least, I had worked out some of the possible responses from each of the three major political ideologies for the questions. M y purpose was to prepare myself to probe thoroughly during the interviews so that I had the richest possible data to analyze. For example, question 14 reads as follows: Why do you think children of poor families leave school before graduating at a much higher rate than middle-class children? A teacher influenced by the conservative ideology might respond from an essentialist perspective, namely, that poor students possess inferior genes. They also might invoke the term meritocracy by insisting that these students do not work hard enough. O f course, this rationale takes any obligation away from mainstream society to alter the ways that schools act as a gate-keeper to various positions in the adult world of paid employment. Liberals might also respond to this question by using meritocracy, of course, but they would be more likely to point out that students of poverty might be latch-key children as a parent may have to work at more than one low-paying job in order to pay the bills. In other words, the liberal might exhibit more compassion for the plight of poor students. A teacher influenced by the radical ideology, on the other hand, might point out that the curriculum has a middle-class bias, that there is very little mention of the plight of workers or the unemployed, that 86 there is a tacit assumption in the curriculum that poor people have no one to blame but themselves for their misfortune. A radical teacher might also mention that many colleagues have attitudes that hinder poor students through a lack of understanding of their experience. O f course, these are but a few of the responses that the teachers might offer. Yet, it is indicative of the type of analysis I hoped to, and eventually did, employ on the data. I w i l l now briefly outline the thinking that went into the interview schedule. The first two questions were simply to gather required background information about the teachers and the students whom they teach. They also allowed both the participant and myself to get used to speaking with each other. Questions 9, 10, and 14 were designed to elicit answers that would indicate how ideology influences their views toward race. I decided against asking a specific question about how the teachers teach about racism. I opted instead to attempt to get at the question as a probe to my query about their thoughts on multiculturalism. M y reasoning for this decision was that this approach would be more likely to garner their core attitude toward racial matters. After all , race and racism are seen as motherhood issues that people want to be seen as holding progressive views toward. I did probe teachers with whom I felt I had a good rapport. A s well , questions 7 and 8 gave more space for the teachers to discuss the importance of racial issues in the past and present. The probes in all of these same questions were also designed to find out how the teachers thought about issues of social class, as well . This makes sense, of course, especially with the description of critical multiculturalism articulated by Kincheloe and Steinberg (1997), a version of multiculturalism that emanates from a radical ideology. It examines how the various cultures relate to each other in a way that incorporates social class, as well . The various forms of multiculturalism w i l l be described in chapter 5. 87 Question 13, which focuses on streaming, is an attempt to elicit views around class (Curtis, Livingstone & Smaller, 1992). It is also, however, a question designed to learn something about how the teachers see the issue of race. A s many scholars point out (Banks, 1988; James, 1990; Ke l ly , 1992; Ladson-Billings, 1994), modified classes in North America are often filled with students from visible minorities, especially Aboriginal and Black students. Question 12 is clearly about finding out the degree of importance the teachers placed on issues of social class. A s I explained in the first part of this chapter, part of the focus in this study is on the ways democracy and citizenship are considered by the teachers. Questions 4 and 5 relate to this line of inquiry. A s w i l l be shown in chapter 7, there is a major emphasis on the importance of democracy and citizenship education in many of the B . C . social studies curricula. What is less clear, however, is that I have designed many of the remaining questions to explore the ways that teachers think about how to be as inclusive as possible. After all, democracy can be seen as one of the pillars of liberalism, as a progeny of the Enlightenment. Its thrust has focused on an ever-growing sense of inclusivity. Questions 5, 6, 7, 8, 11 and 15 were included in the interview questions to help me determine the extent to which the teachers consider democracy and citizenship in this progressive way. This set of questions also served the purpose of allowing me to analyze the degree to which veteran social studies teachers consider their position to be a vehicle in the construction of a socially just society. A s I have mentioned earlier, there are many who consider the role of the school to be nothing more than an instrument used to further entrench the status quo. Proponents of this perspective are most likely to be people who have benefited from the current power arrangements. These people are likely to adhere to conservative notions of democracy and citizenship, although they may agree with the liberal idea of participating citizens (Westheimer & Kahne, 2003). The ideological distinctions between conservative, liberal, and radical conceptions of democracy and citizenship are articulated in 88 chapter 7. Before the discussion moves to how a conservative role for the school first came about in B . C . , however, I would like to say a few words about certain terms I w i l l be using throughout the analysis. 3.4.6 On Language Critiques of modern appraisals of the Other have raised sensitivities about the words we use to describe people who inhabit social locations different from ourselves. I had to make some decisions about what terms to use for the various cultural groups throughout the study. For example, the word Indian has posed problems for many anthropologists and other scholars for a long time. In this study, I use the terms Indian, East Indian, or Indo-Cqnadian to refer to people whose ancestry is in India. The terms Aboriginal, Native, and First Nations^ are used to describe Canada's original inhabitants. White and European I use interchangeably, while the term British is used to describe the first group of White people to settle in British Columbia in the second half of the 1800s and the early 1900s. These people may have come to B . C . from Britain, Ontario, the Maritimes, or the United States. Their original lineage, however, would have been British. David Roediger (1991) describes how the "wages of whiteness" benefited all people who looked as though all o f their ancestors came from Europe. In B . C . , these same benefits were mostly extended to anyone who could demonstrate a British background (Perry, 2001; Harris, 1997; Barman, 1991). Consequently, I sometimes used the somewhat awkward term Britishness in a similar way that other scholars use the term whiteness. It is not clear to me whether Irish and Scottish Catholics living in British Columbia had the same access to these wages of whiteness. I had to think about whether to use the term white or use White. On the one hand, using the lower-case fits with my political stance on acknowledging the dominance of whiteness. Yet, I often 89 describe the social relations in British Columbia as supporting a type of Britishness. I could not see much difference in using a capital B for British or a capital W for White. Hence, I used the term White. There is one last issue pertaining to language that I wish to address here. In Chapter 2,1 outlined the three major political ideologies that emanated from Modernity: conservatism, liberalism, and socialism. Critiques of Marxism have correctly asserted that Marx and Engels paid little attention to gender and race concerns, focusing almost solely on class. The contributions of critical theory, feminist thought and postcolonial scholarship in recent decades have brought to light the initial flaws in socialist thought. M y study is primarily about how issues of race and class are represented in social studies education. Consequently, I use the term radical in place of socialist in the data analysis chapters (i.e., 5, 6, and 7). This, too, is problematic because the term radical also refers to a version of feminism, a particular philosophy within environmentalism, and various other forms of social protest. Yet, I consider the need to be consistent with the massive body of recent academic research about issues of class and race to supercede any concerns of appropriation of the term radical. I began the discussion around political ideology in chapter 2 using the term socialism to refer to the critique of capitalism in a similar manner as Marx and Engels used the term. Yet, I make the switch to radicalism when discussing aspects of the curriculum and the present-day attitudes of the teachers toward issues of race and class in a critical and progressive way. The original White society that settled in British Columbia was mostly driven by a conservative ideology. In order to provide context for the subsequent data analysis, I w i l l describe how the predominantly British settler population managed to construct a pro-British middle-class conservative identity in a region populated by significantly larger numbers of First Nations people who were later joined by legions of labourers from racially and ethnically diverse backgrounds. This 90 is the purpose of the next chapter. This chapter w i l l also focus on the power of discursive formations to mold a society so that certain groups gain privilege at the expense of others. 91 Chapter 4 British Conservatism and the First School Curriculum In British Columbia today, the public is repeatedly thrust into struggles and debates that involve groups of people vying for recognition and what they perceive to be their rights. Aboriginal people demand that the land question be settled; a Catholic bishop tries to defend himself on charges of rape by suggesting that he was seduced by the young Aboriginal females; people of Chinese ancestry want to be redressed over the federally-imposed head tax of a century ago; White people believe they are victims of unfair affirmative action programs; this same group fears the infinite hordes of Chinese migrants who wait to illegally enter the province; capitalists and their friends in the media lament the union power of the working classes, while these same labourers call for better working conditions, wages, and job security. Yet, a study of the history of this region that historian Jean Barman calls "the West beyond the West" reveals similar sets of struggles between similar social groups have already occurred. The purpose of this chapter is to give historical context to the main body of research that follows, specifically in terms of how race and class relations melded to form the social hierarchies still in evidence today. The main goal is for understanding the past so that the future is comprehensible, possibly leading to more understanding among the various social groups. After all, as Canadian educator Ken Osborne states in In Defence of History (1995), "either we understand our past, or we let it control us, with untold consequences for the present and the future" (p. 3). In the opening paragraph, I mentioned only a few of the numerous examples that demonstrate the validity of this assertion. The relations between the Aboriginal peoples, Whites, and various Asian groups became seriously strained almost immediately following the decision of British White settlers to turn Vancouver Island into a British colony in 1849. Yet, the initial experience between Natives and 92 Whites were not necessarily so bad. In the late 1700s, when Europeans first appeared in the area, they also brought sets of attitudes that greatly influenced the relationships - in social, economic and political realms with the indigenous peoples. The beginning of the relationship between these two groups came with the fur trade, a business arrangement that to some degree benefited both groups, although from this "partnership" the seeds were planted for more powerful discourses to hold sway in the relationship. The discourse of the fur trade gave way to several discourses that were so intertwined and powerful that the province has been and continues to be shaped by them. Imperialism, the dominant discourse, is based on cycles of exploitative relationships and negative representations of the Other, a process not unique to British Columbia. In fact, this story has similarities to all the other places where Europeans ventured en masse to dispossess the original inhabitants of their lands, and in the case of the British, to further the imperialist project of Empire-building. Yet, in the context of British Columbia, the day-to-day relations of people from the various groups were governed by imperialism and nation-building and, of course, related discourses such as capitalism, White supremacy, anti-miscegenation, the dying race, the yellow hordes, corrupt unions, to name but a few. These have spawned a host of others, often in gender/racial intersecting constructs - the discourse of the Aboriginal woman as prostitute, the discourse of the White woman as a beacon of purity and saviour of the empire are but two of many. O f course, throughout the history of this region, as elsewhere, the discourse of Christianity has been extremely potent in its support of patriarchal White supremacist capitalism. Beginning with the fur trade, I wi l l outline the discourses that influenced social and political relations that led to the colonial period of 1849 until 1871 and the nation-building period that ended in the 1920s. It w i l l become clear why one scholar claims that by 1925, British Columbia had been made into a White supremacist society (Stanley, 1995, p. 39). More to the point, it w i l l be evident 93 how Whiteness and a conservative ideology came to underlie much of the school curriculum in British Columbia. This can only be understood with an understanding of the context of the period and the discourses that were influencing the minds of the settlers. 4.1 THE PRE COL ONIAL PERIOD The arrival of the first European trade ship in 1785 marked the beginning of a proto-colonial period throughout what is now British Columbia, a contact period created for the most part through the trading of furs. These early traders came by sea and land to make deals with an Aboriginal population hovering between 300,000 and 400,000, according to sources cited by historian Adele Perry (2001, p. 10). Aboriginal society throughout the region was varied and complex, with 34 distinct languages and vastly differing models of social organization, including slave-owning tribes to the north. Although it is difficult to assess the long-term impact of the fur trade on the land west of the Rockies, geographer Cole Harris (1997) claims that the seeds for two discourses were planted as soon as Europeans from different nations arrived in the late eighteenth century (p. 32). A "discourse of sovereign power" attempted to hold sway over Aboriginal peoples and their lands, itself laying the groundwork for the colonial discourse that was soon to follow. Spain, Russia, Britain, France and the young nation of the United States all vied for control of the fur trade, particularly in sea otter, in the coastal region. Yet, it was a non-sovereign entity, the Hudson's Bay Company, that was inadvertently instrumental in creating the groundwork for year-round White settlement, albeit on a tiny scale. Historian Jean Barman (1991) claims that a positive aspect of the fur trade, as far as the First Nations were concerned, was that "[t]he traders' presence gave Indian peoples some breathing space before having to face mass European settlement" (p. 50). 94 According to Harris, this "discourse of the fur trade" promoted the values of hard work and reliability in a similar way as industrial capitalism was doing simultaneously in Britain. The Metis scholar of history, Olive Dickason (1992), contends that the effect of the fur trade on the First Nations of the Pacific Northwest "at first intensified existing cultural patterns rather than [cause] a major reorientation in their way of life" (p. 207). For example, the material goods involved with traditional ceremonies such as the potlatch increased at the same time that art flourished - many began to carve in new materials. Although there is much evidence to suggest that the initial fur trade was beneficial for both Aboriginal and European peoples, there soon came to be a demonstration of power that was to grow into the colonial project of empire-building. The origins of social hierarchies along lines of race, ethnicity, gender and social class were being formed in the region. One early example of how ethnic divisions advantaged the capitalist class was the common practice of dividing the living arrangements of the work-force up so that very few men in a sleeping quarters spoke the same language (Harris, 1997, p.44). The reasoning was to curb labourers from collectively demanding better conditions or acting against violent superiors. This strategy in particular evolved into a very effective method as capitalists learned to play one race or ethnic group off against another in efforts to increase profits throughout the colonial and nation-building phases of the region. The European fur traders built forts in order to have safe and familiar spaces, as well as trade and communications centres. The forts also allowed the White newcomers to demonstrate power to the surrounding Native peoples in the same way that castles had done in Europe during an earlier period. Hudson's Bay Company ( H B C ) officers began conjugal relationships with Aboriginal women, both groups hoping to build alliances through these unions. Ironically, as the discourse of the fur trade died out, it was replaced by a more powerful one, namely, imperialism. The discourse of 95 imperialism gave great impetus in the discouragement of intimate liasons between White men and non-White women. 4.2 THE COLONIAL PERIOD: 1849 to 1871 When Britain declared Vancouver Island to be a colony of the empire in 1849, the official colonial period of the region began. This was a clear demonstration of British arrogance, since there were only 500 or so British settlers on the island, compared to tens of thousands of Aboriginal people. These numbers also demonstrate the power of the imperial discourse, as the small number of Britons attempted to assert what they believed to be their right to control the original inhabitants of the land as though it was natural destiny. Historian Adele Perry sums up the imperial discourse as it pertained to the small number of White settlers in mid-nineteenth century British Columbia: They were a civil ized and Whi te people surrounded by savage Indians in an empty and undeveloped place that could be transformed into an exemplary Bri t ish colony. (2001, p. 194) The imperial discourse, so prominent wherever Europeans wanted the land and resources of other peoples, included other discourses that served European interests. Christianity, capitalism, race theories and spinoffs such as White supremacy and anti-miscegenation, all of which also included other discourses, constituted a discursive formation that justified, maintained, and even further entrenched White privilege and interests. This discursive formation led to social hierarchies that became the backbone of the conservative ideology, vestiges of which can be seen in British Columbia even today. Yet, as discussed in Chapter 2, European thought during the Enlightenment also spawned a liberal ideology, which included humanist discourses like the equality of man and Aboriginal rights. Both of these discourses continue to exert influence in the sociopolitical relations of British 96 Columbians today. One man who embodied many of the struggles during the colonial period was Governor James Douglas. A man who Barman claims "exercised almost total authority" in the region (1991, p. 72), Douglas exemplified the tensions between conservatism and liberalism. From 1851 until his retirement in 1864, James Douglas was governor of Vancouver Island. The former Hudson's Bay Company employee was also named the first governor of mainland British Columbia when it became a colony of Britain in 1858, a direct consequence of the Fraser River gold rush of the same year. The mercantile capitalist system that H B C officers had overseen for decades, a system in which distribution of goods and profits were easily controlled, became untenable with the new conditions, namely, the arrival of tens of thousands of men with no ties to Britain, immediately leading the British to expand the empire by turning mainland British Columbia into a colony. A s Barman points out, "[t]he contribution of James Douglas in shaping the future province should not be underestimated" (1991, p. 97). Douglas had to negotiate between power brokers like the middle-class colonists and missionaries from Britain, the H B C officers, many of whom had developed strong familial ties to First Nations communities, the White working-class newcomers and the huge numbers of Aboriginal people who, despite having never changed locations, now found themselves living in a British colony. The lack of White settlers did not stop Douglas from clearing the way for future settlement, which was one of the mandates imposed by the H B C . Between 1850 and 1854, he negotiated fourteen treaties with Salish bands on Vancouver Island, apparently paying attention to preferred land for the Whites (Barman, 1991, p. 58), as well as land used by the Natives for homes, burial grounds and fishing stations (Dickason, 1992, p. 243). The salient point of these treaties, however, is that the imperial discourse, which included the discourse of White supremacy, was powerful enough to 97 convince a small set of White settlers that they had the right to contain the original inhabitants of the land to 3% of the island. After 1854, there were no more treaties made with the First Nations and the colonists, most probably because the racial theories of European "science" were becoming part of the dominant discourse in the new colony, a "science" that determined Aboriginal people to be "savages, the alter-ego of civil ized Europeans" (Harris, 1997, p. 34). Political scientist Paul Tennant points out that the settlers were quick to draft laws that enabled those who could claim to be White certain privileges and power (1990, p. xi). In this aspect, many settlers who were excluded from the class of propertied men in Europe were able to benefit materially in British Columbia. After all , the conservative Christian discourse, so influential with the elite of the British settlers, urged men to "have dominion" over the land and its creatures, to work the land and change it from its natural state, a concept quite antithetical to Aboriginal cosmology. Indeed, the new commissioner of Crown Lands, Joseph Trutch, claimed in 1864 that Native people "had no more right to the land than a panther or a bear" (Dickason, 1992, p. 261). With the arrival of Trutch, the conservative ideology became further entrenched in the settler society of the region. Trutch immediately set about taking away most of the land allocated by Douglas to the First Nations (Barman, 1991, p. 153). Indigenous families were only allowed to have land on the reserves and even then the plots could be no larger than ten acres. Individual British men, by comparison, "could pre-empt 160 acres and then purchase up to 480 more" (p. 154). The colonial period of 1849 until 1871 coincided with other newly emerging discourses, mostly emanating out of Britain, around both race and gender. These discourses became influential throughout the British Empire, o f course, but they were not always able to create and maintain the desired societies. The unique situation of British Columbia, a mountainous land located half-way 98 around the world from the so-called "centre of civilization," is a case in point, its history a clear demonstration of the massive gap between imperialism in theory and imperialism in practice. In the 1850s, the H B C became involved with mining, beginning with coal in the Nanaimo area of Vancouver Island. Around this time, logging became a major activity. Both of these industries required a labouring class to do the actual work and especially after gold was discovered around the Fraser River in 1858, the workers arrived, most of them coming from the United States and almost every one of them male (Perry, 2001, p. 10). In fact, "[w]omen hovered at somewhere between 5 and 15 percent of the White population on the mainland between 1861 and 1865" (ibid, p. 17). The fragility and vulnerability of the colony became blatantly obvious for all . Yet, the call for middle-class farming families to come to the new colonies met with little response; work camps " in the 'wilderness' and a line of industrial transportation to the outside world appeared instead" (Harris, 1997, p. 257). These backwoods work camps allowed a White, male "homosocial culture" to develop and even flourish during the colonial period. The working-class men who had come to the region in search of employment, even wealth, developed tastes for drinking alcohol, gambling, and spending time with other men except when they went to the dance halls to socialize with Native women (Perry, 2001, p. 38). Adele Perry (2001) persuasively argues that these all-male social arrangements can be seen as resistance to the dominant form of British masculinity (p. 38). According to Perry, "British Columbia created a broader male culture that fostered same-sex social, emotional, and sometimes sexual bonds," (p. 28), a development that in turn, spawned a White middle-class reaction that promoted temperance (p. 80), Christianity (p. 82), and the use of alternative sites of masculinity such as the Y M C A (p. 84). These reformers were worried that the "poor moral habits" of the White working classes "threatened colonial progress" (p. 88). Instead of attempting to convert the "othered 'savage,'" the Anglican 99 Columbia Mission changed its focus to saving "Britain's errant sons, in ensuring that the ' s e l f did not become the 'other,'" (p. 91). The White labourers became particularly incensed at the way the Anglican missionaries represented them to British audiences, even questioning the Church's assumption that it had the right to describe their lifestyles as "a hotbed of immorality" (ibid., p. 96). Through the British Colonist newspaper in 1861, these men resisted imperialism's attempts of representing them as something other than what was desired. Indeed, they disputed the way in which the imperial project produced its knowledge. It was becoming clear that, despite their European lineage, the right of the predominantly male working classes of British Columbia to claim membership in being White was in jeopardy. Missionary attempts to "c iv i l ize" them were not all that different from attempts to "c ivi l ize" indigenous peoples, in British Columbia as well as anywhere else the British Empire set out to conquer. The strongest reaction from the colonial elites and middle classes was elicited by the tendency of White working-class men to become romantically involved with Aboriginal women. This was because mixed-race couples went against a set of discourses sweeping across all the societies in which White people had gained power over the Other. Despite the noble words of emancipation and equality that were part of the Enlightenment's liberal project, a discursive formation that included White supremacy, Christianity, anti-miscegenation, and the construction of White woman femininity as a beacon of civil ized purity, worked to ensure that oppressive social hierarchies were the norm in the colonies that Perry calls "at the edge of empire." This discursive formation was powerful enough to position the conservative ideology as dominant in British Columbia. Moreover, these discourses became extremely difficult to disentangle, making the conservative ideology almost immovable for over a century. 100 Nineteenth-century European writers became involved in numerous debates around issues of race, racial origins, nation and culture. Nicholas Dirks has made a case that "culture as a colonial formation" was the catalyst that spurred on such debates (1991). A s a corollary, the cosmological view of indigenous peoples, namely, that they were the stewards of the land for those yet to be born, was completely at odds with the Christian notion of M a n having dominion over the Earth and all its creatures. According to the postcolonial scholar Robert J. C. Young (1995), this same biblical idea was at the heart of the monogenesis versus polygenesis debates that finally ended in the early twentieth century (pp. 64-67). Many supporters of the polygenesis thesis considered non-Europeans to be of entirely different species. Even when this argument was proven wrong, the discourse of White supremacist racial hierarchies worked to maintain hegemony. Consequently, the arguments put forth by Aboriginal peoples toward ownership of the land were not considered in any serious way by the colonial powers. Vestiges of this conservative line of thought can be seen in Aboriginal/White relations in British Columbia today. In Racial Theories, sociologist Michael Banton (1998) argues that European racial attitudes, which began more or less as an ethnocentric response, shifted to more overtly racist ones as the "Needs of Empire" required. B y the mid-1800s, "new attitudes towards the self and social status [were] emerging within British society" (p. 78). Racial classification systems were developed by Gobineau and other scholars, causing, at least in part, extremely strong anti-miscegenation attitudes throughout White populations, in Europe and its colonies. Various taxonomies arose that incorporated aspects of social Darwinism as they served the interests of Empire: Spencer's cultural evolutionism, Gobineau's racial classification system, and Nott and Gliddon's Types of Mankind were some of the most influential works in the field of science that supported White supremacy. A s Banton points out, these philosophers were making the same flaw as the naturalists of the 1700s, namely, "they assumed 101 that to classify was to explain" (p. 80). Unfortunately, this flawed logic still managed to instill a belief in racial hierarchies within the collective European consciousness, justifying both the theft of lands worldwide and the organizing of social relations that granted privilege to White people while oppressing the indigenous peoples. It was no different in the remote far-off corner of the British Empire on the northwest coast of North America. Robert J. C. Young contends that the strength of the anti-miscegenation discourse was so powerful in the British Empire that it even superceded concerns over homosexuality. In Colonial Desire (1995), Young makes the claim that despite rampant homophobia in British society, such liasons remained "silent, covert and unmarked" because they produced no children (p. 26). The real threat to imperialist aims was mixed-race children, open proof that polygeneticists were wrong and that racial hierarchies were vulnerable. In the new British colonies of the Pacific Northwest, hybridity challenged the socially constructed colour-line hierarchies more than anything else. It also threatened the British rationale for colonizing various peoples across their empire. Moreover, in Race and the Education of Desire (1997), A n n Laura Stoler claims that the "dangers of a homosexual rank and file were implicitly weighed against the medical hazards of rampant heterosexual prostitution" (p. 181). A n d to many among the British colonists, the relationships between White labourers and Aboriginal women were akin to prostitution. According to Adele Perry, "First Nations women were represented as overtly sexual, physical, and base. White men were simultaneously attracted and alarmed by what they saw as Aboriginal woman's sexual availability" (p. 51). In the History of Sexuality, Michel Foucault (1979) hypothesized that nineteenth-century Europe's sexual fascination was not intended to repress sex at all ; rather, it was meant to arouse in all but the bourgeois family. In other words, sexual practices became a marker of social class. Although Foucault focused solely on Europe, his insight spawned a legion of scholars 102 to study the connections between sexuality and imperialism, including Robert J.C. Young (1995), A n n Laura Staler (1997), Jean Barman (1997/98), and Anne McClin tock (1995). Young has painstakingly argued that the revulsion of mating with the Other had to compete with the colonizer's desire for sexual intimacy with the colonized. A s a result, social pressures for anti-miscegenation often held sway over physical and psychological attractions between people of different races. In the backwoods of British Columbia, however, this dynamic was often reversed. The race theorists fused pseudo-science and Christian morality into one powerful discourse that explained the presence of mixed-race people throughout the empire: although men from the dominant race might succumb to the immoral seductions of females from the inferior races, the "laws" of permanence of type, the infertility of hybrids, and the limits of acclimatization determined the ultimate outcome in race relations. In Taming Aboriginal Sexuality (1997/98), Jean Barman persuasively argues that Aboriginal women were misconstrued to be sexually available because they were judged through a White, Christian, patriarchal lens (p. 239) in which the taboos that were normalized in nineteenth-century European societies had no counterpart in Aboriginal societies (p. 243). Moreover, the race and gender dynamics in colonial British Columbia made it possible for "men in power to condemn Aboriginal sexuality and at the same time, i f they so chose, to use for their own gratification the very women they had turned into sexual objects" (p. 240). The same discourse was rampant in the United States. Speaking to the American Freedmen's Inquiry Commission about the "repugnance" of amalgamation of the races, Louis Agassiz, a Professor of Zoology at Harvard, blamed "the easy morality of 'half-breed' servant-girls, combined with the naivety of young White gentlemen" (Young, 1995, p. 149). Patriarchy and White supremacy formed a powerful discursive alliance that allowed White men to have their way with non-White women without any recourse whatsoever for the latter group. 103 Much of the discourse around Aboriginal women and sexuality negates the agency they employed in order to shift power in the social relations of the times and the resistance they put up when they became victims of violence (Perry, 2001, p. 65). After all , these racial and religious discourses were major parts of the underpinning of the conservative ideology. Jean Barman (1997/98) contends that these conservative discourses still resonate today in some British Columbian circles. Yet, during the colonial period, there were virtually no avenues open for counter-hegemonic discourses to take root. The major source of resistance to these mixed-race couplings came from the privileged British colonists. In On the Edge of Empire (2001), Adele Perry points out that despite attempts by some "to assimilate White-Aboriginal relationships to European sexual and social norms" (p. 97), the majority of settlers tried to discourage them (p. 106) or, i f they continued to occur, segregate them from the more respectable all-White Christian neighbourhoods (p. 110). In 1861, future premier Amor de Cosmos, formerly named Wil l iam Smith, summed up the growing sentiments of the colonists toward Aboriginal people in an editorial he wrote in the British Colonist: Shall we allow a few vagrants to prevent forever industrious set t lers f rom sett l ing on the unoccupied lands? Not at all ... Locate reservations fo r them on which to earn their own living, and if they trespass on Whi te set t lers punish them severely. A few lessons would enable them to form a correct estimation of their own inferiority. (Cited in Barman, 1991, p. 153) With the help of the newspapers, racist conservatives put increasing pressure on James Douglas to pass legislation that would, in effect, force the Aboriginal people to live and work only on their reserves. Yet, the governor responded in an ambivalent way to the demands for segregation. Douglas wished for assimilation and even a type of biracial society between the two races. The governor was in an awkward position - his wife Amel ia was of Aboriginal/White ancestry, as were his children. 104 Moreover, although the majority of colonists considered Native people to be "untrustworthy," Douglas considered most to possess an "essential good w i l l " (Barman, 1991, p. 151). In 1858, Douglas further complicated matters of race in the colony when he gave permission for over 700 African American men, women and children to sail to British Columbia from California in order to make their homes in Victoria and on Saltspring Island. The newcomers faced discrimination, especially from the White Americans living in the colony, but had "found immediate employment and entrepeneurial opportunities" (Walker, 1985, p. 11). The Black communities were among the first groups to form a militia, known as the African Rifles, to protect the British colony from those who wanted it to jo in the United States (Barman, 1991, p. 76). Despite this, Black settlers found they were not treated the same way as their White counterparts: some Victoria barkeepers refused to serve them alcohol (Perry, p. 40), the local Y M C A excluded them from membership (ibid., p. 84), the African Rifles were barred from participating in parades and public ceremonies (Walker, p. 11), and many churches and theatres would only allow them to sit in segregated sections (p. 11). Yet, most likely because of their large numbers, Aboriginal people had to endure the most consistent forms of White racism. Calls for their segregation in colonial British Columbia were reminiscent of the situation in the segregated southern United States. Adele Perry describes these racist demands as a patriarchal response toward the notion of communal integration with non-White people: Men evoked the chivalric duty as husbands and fa thers bound to protect Whi te women and children f rom threatening non-White peoples, and missionaries and politicians alike promoted Aboriginal relocation and containment as a benevolent means of saving the benighted savage. (p. 113) Despite this widespread patriarchal, White supremacist conservatism, White opposition to segregation appeared out of the business community. Victoria merchants wanted to ensure that some 105 of the rough and tumble backwoods labourers would come to town to spend their money, and i f that meant their Aboriginal partners would be by their side, then so be it. But despite this opposition, the segregationists were going to get their way: an extremely deadly smallpox epidemic swept through the First Nations communities of the Northwest coast. It has become fairly well known that one of the major ways in which Europeans wreaked havoc on indigenous populations throughout the imperial world was by transmitting diseases to people who lacked immunity to them. Cole Harris (1997) has concluded that "smallpox reached the Straight of Georgia in 1782 and that its effects were devastating" on the Coast Salish people (p. 4). Yet, the worst was still to come: in 1862, First Nations communities living on the borders of Victoria contracted the deadly smallpox virus. This gave segregationists the rationale they needed to demand that the authorities get rid of all Aboriginal people from Victoria. The police began to burn all o f the dwellings that housed Aboriginal people and escorted them by gunboat up the east coast of Vancouver Island, having to go further north than intended as the White settlers of Nanaimo "prevented their canoes from landing" (Perry, p. 114). In Perry's opinion, the response of the White settlers was so extreme that it can only be explained by "White fears of sexual and social contact with the Aboriginal community" (p. 111). In scenes reminiscent of the responses to the A I D S crisis by B . C . authorities in the 1980s and 1990s, colonial missionaries and journalists attempted to link the deadly disease to "promiscuous and deviant sex" (p. 111). The forced evacuation of Native people from White urban settlements resulted in the disease spreading up the north coast throughout the Aboriginal communities. A l l told, the smallpox epidemic of 1862-63 killed over 20,000 Aboriginal people in the region, the population decimated by 62% (Perry, p. 111). The smallpox epidemics had made life for Aboriginal peoples in colonial B . C . nothing short of hell, as the survivors, themselves weakened by the disease and the grieving of their 106 loved ones' deaths, had to cope with little resources, lost trading partners and even lost oral histories. It is very significant to this research that this tragedy does not even get mentioned once in any of the B . C . social studies curricula. Aboriginal populations continued to shrink until the 1920s in British Columbia and elsewhere, giving support to the new discourse that had arrived from south of the border, namely, that of the "dying race" (Perry, p. 116). This discourse also worked to justify the continued takeover of Aboriginal lands and the continued oppression through the residential school system and the Indian Act (both of which w i l l be discussed below). In 1865, the British Columbian newspaper summed up the prevailing attitude among White settlers when it stated: Colonization necessarily involves the contact, and practically the collision, of two races of men - one superior, and one inferior, the latter being in possession of the soi l , the former gradually supplanting it. The history of every civil ized country i l lustrates the t ruth of this supposition. Everywhere, in obedience to what appears to be a natural law, the uncivilized native has receded before the civil izer. (cited in Perry, 2001, p. 125) Obviously, it was very difficult for counter-hegemonic discourses to take hold and displace these dominant racist discourses of imperialism within the settler populations of British Columbia. Renewed calls for White immigration, particularly from Britain, became more frequent. Through manipulations of generous land laws and immigration policy, many of the colonists still hoped to fashion a replica of Britain. In 1860, new land regulations gave the opportunity for "any British subject or foreigner swearing allegiance to the crown .. . to stake up to 160 acres" (Barman, 1991, p. 87). In a clear demonstration of White privilege, these laws forbade Aboriginal or Chinese people from doing the same. Not all of the White settlers were in favour of these schemes, however, as Americans who had moved to the colonies to work in the burgeoning logging and mining industries were reluctant to 107 welcome more Britons to the region. Nevertheless, the pro-British settlers used active promotional campaigns to attract desirable British immigrants. Yet, these efforts more or less failed. Often, single working-class men found their way to the colonies, but they were often from an ethnic group deemed undesirable by the authorities. Even worse, as far as the pro-British authorities were concerned, sometimes these single wandering male labourers were from an unwanted race. In 1858, British Columbia underwent a massive influx of immigrants, most of them men who had come in search of gold. Jean Barman estimates that approximately 30,000 immigrants passed through B . C . that year. "British subjects suddenly found themselves jostling native-born Americans, Blacks, Chinese, Germans, Italians, Jews, and Spaniards on the streets of Victor ia" (1991, p. 66). It was the arrival of the Chinese miners, most of whom had traveled north from California to pan for gold on the Fraser River, who elicited the strongest response. In White Canada Forever (1978), W . Peter Ward explains that the anti-Chinese "yellow hordes" discourse was kickstarted when "Napolean had warned of the sleeping giant of the East" (p. 6). Galvanizing "the twin themes of race war and Asian inundation" (p. 6), this discourse gained acceptance during the 1800s throughout the western world (p. 4). This view contributed to the racist Chinese stereotypes that had arrived with the White miners from California in 1858 (p. 24). Almost immediately the majority of White settlers in British Columbia accepted without question the racist view that the Chinese "would always remain an inferior, alien presence in the community" (p. 5) because they were unclean, they "thrived in overcrowded houses" (p. 7), they brought diseases wherever they go (p. 8), they were opium fiends, and they were a "grave source of lawlessness" around petty theft, gambling, and serious crime (p. 9). Ward makes the point that these stereotypes of Chinese social life in British Columbia stemmed from the fact that the Chinese community was virtually "transient and overwhelmingly 108 male" (p. 18). Most were forced to leave China because of an economic crisis that had swept across many provinces during the mid-1800s. Many Chinese labourers looked to North America, or "Gold Mountain" as they called it, as their only way out of poverty. Yet, their arduous journey across the Pacific did not end on a welcoming note. In one of the most enduring statements of anti-Chinese sentiments in B . C . , the White settlers "believed that the Chinese threatened the economic status of the west coast workingman - his wages, his job, and his stable economic environment" (p. 10). Even Governor James Douglas described the Chinese migrant labourers with unease when he addressed colonial officials in London in 1860: They are certainly not a desirable class of people, as a permanent population, but are fo r the present useful as labourers, and, as consumers, of a revenue-paying character. (cited in Ward, 1978, p. 25) It appears as though Douglas had the Chinese below the Aboriginal people in his own version of a racial hierarchy. It is also significant that the Governor considered the Chinese labourers as only temporary residents of British Columbia. Although the economic plight of the Chinese worker and the White worker in British Columbia were similar, the former was treated as an inferior, compared to the latter. In The Wages of Whiteness (1999), historian David Roediger makes a strong case that working-class Whites in the United States allowed solidarity to form along lines of race rather than social class. This was because of the "pleasures of Whiteness" that paid dividends in terms of a "public and psychological wage" rather than money (p. 12). For example, they could travel freely in any public area, could become police officers, were treated better by the same police and the judiciary, and had much better educational opportunities for their children. Although Roediger is describing race relations in nineteenth-century America, the situation in British Columbia was much the same during the colonial period. In fact, in order to hold a position of 109 authority in colonial British Columbia, a man must have possessed a "respectable social background and education, preferably at one of the two established English universities, Oxford or Cambridge" (Barman, 1991, p. 84). A s another example of how Whites enjoyed privilege over the Other, Britain appointed a new judge for British Columbia in 1858, Matthew Baill ie Begbie. Between.1858 and 1872, Judge Begbie presided over 52 murder trials with a jury. O f the 27 who were hanged, 22 were Aboriginal while four were White and one was Chinese (ibid., p. 77). These numbers are a stark indication of what can be included in the "wages of Whiteness." The disproportionate numbers of Aboriginal inmates in British Columbia's prisons today indicate that a similar dynamic along racial lines is still in effect. Authorities in the two colonies attempted to persuade more British people to emigrate from Britain. The name of the region, British Columbia, was thought to be somewhat of an incentive. A s John Wil l insky points out in Learning to Divide the World (1998), empire-building has often relied upon the strategy of naming things far from home as a way of making the colonizers comfortable. It is as i f giving British names to a region already named by the indigenous people gives Britons the right to colonize it. For example, the major rivers in British Columbia were named Thompson, Fraser, and McKenzie , after the early fur-trading adventurers. Wil l insky posits that this way of "honouring the heroes of empire" (p. 36) is a blatant example of how power and knowledge are intertwined, of how geography in general, and naming in particular, became important tools for serving the political economy of empire. Naming became an essential way of entrenching White hegemony in the minds of all , as maps of the empire were sold to the people of the empire. Concern over how to lure more White people, especially Britons, to emigrate to the increasingly racialized colony reached a fever pitch in the 1860s. Attempts to attract middle-class British families had mostly failed, so the subsequent strategy was to lure single women from Britain 110 in the hope that they "would compel White men to reject the rough homosocial culture of the backwoods" and help make British Columbia a respectable society with the acceptable norms of masculinity constructions (Perry, 2001, p. 140). In 1865, the situation was that White males outnumbered White females by a 9 to 1 ratio (p. 13). The White colonists also wanted White women to become servants in the homes of the privileged so that they would not have to rely on the help of "the untrustworthy" Aboriginal or mixed-race people (p. 141). Finally, it was common opinion that in order to save the colony White women must be brought to its shores to stop "the widespread practice of White-Aboriginal conjugal relationships" (p. 144). Between 1849 and 1871, there were four major recruitment efforts on the part of the White settlers to attract British women to British Columbia (Perry, p. 166). Many of those who did arrive became wives to White working-class men and servants to White middle-class families (p. 164). Although many accepted their fate and role in Empire, there were others who resisted the power of this discourse that described White women as "beacons of purity" and a "panacea for imperialism's i l l s . " According to Perry, [w]hite women made their own history, but not in circumstances of their own making ... Much like their male counterparts in the backwoods who tormented reformers by living a vision of Whi te manhood that departed significantly f rom that promoted in mainstream nineteenth-century Anglo-American culture, Whi te women in mid-nineteenth-century Br i t ish Columbia frequently fai led to live up to the roles colonial discourse assigned fo r them. (2001, pp. 199-200) The independence of the White working-class women surprised and alarmed the colonists. Some of the newcomers remained alone by choice; others left their husbands because of domestic violence, which was more or less acceptable in the imperial context; others became the partners of women or, even worse, non-White men. These acts of resistance to White feminine ideals within the imperial 111 discourse led some colonists to complain that the efforts to recruit White women to British Columbia had created immorality, and therefore racial pride was in decline as the imperial project had lost something precious (p. 192). This feminine ideal is a strong indicator of how White women were gendered. In similar processes, Aboriginal people were racialized and Aboriginal women were doubly oppressed through both their gendered and racialized representations. Indeed, as Stoler points out, recent scholarship has "been able to show how discourses of sexuality at once classified colonial subjects into distinct human kinds" (1995, p. 4). The representation of Aboriginal women as sexually available is a stark symbol of the inhumanity that underlies much within the imperial discourse and its offspring, that of White supremacy. According to Barman, "[b]y the time British Columbia became a Canadian province in 1871 Aboriginal women had been almost wholly sexualized," while their White counterparts had been constructed to be almost at the other extreme (1997/98, p. 249). Although there is plenty of evidence to demonstrate the acquiescence and support of White women for White supremacy, they were for the most part almost as powerless as the non-White population, themselves having been racialized, as well . In the late 1860s, conflicts arose among the White men in power as to what course British Columbia should take. Some wanted British Columbia, which amalgamated Vancouver Island and the mainland into one colony in 1866, to join the young Canadian Federation to the east; others wanted British Columbia to become part of the extremely powerful American neighbour to the south; others wanted the colony to become a nation in its own right and go it alone. Once these power struggles subsided, British Columbia joined Canada in 1871. B y this time, Aboriginal peoples had been relegated far below White settlers on the racial hierarchy, most of their lands having been taken 112 from them. The Black settlers and Chinese labourers who had found their way to the colony were also excluded from the wages of Whiteness, of course. After Confederation the struggles multiplied in number and in intensity, as British privilege was under attack from other White groups on many fronts, especially concerning class issues like public education and working conditions. Workers from the United States, and from various ethnic groups and races increased in number and fought each other and the capitalists who employed them. The discourse of imperialism, so important in the project of building the British Empire, had to give way to another discourse, one that would bolster the nation-building efforts across the new country of Canada. 4.3 BRITISH COLUMBIA and the NATION-BUILDING PERIOD: 1871 to the 1920s Many of the discourses that influenced social relations in British Columbia during the colonial period continued to exert influence after the colony transformed into a province in 1871. Some even became more influential. For instance, as smallpox continued to decimate the Aboriginal population, the dying race discourse was heard more frequently, invoked as it was to justify the theft of their lands. Similarly, as more and more Chinese male labourers came to the region, the yellow hordes discourse became commonplace. Moreover, constructions of White femininity contrasted greatly with those that represented both Aboriginal and Chinese womanhood. A n d the discourse of anti-miscegenation, connected as it was throughout all lands conquered by the British with its corollary, namely, White supremacy, rose to such prominence that White privilege was ensured in the new province. There is no doubt that the majority of British colonists had little difficulty accepting the dominant discourses emanating out of Europe. L ike the colonists themselves, many of the discourses 113 had British origins, as well . Imperialism, White supremacy, and Christianity worked in concert to entrench the conservative ideology in the new province. A n y liberal notions toward First Nations people, such as what former Governor Douglas sometimes demonstrated, completely disappeared by the time British Columbia became part of Canada. A n y idea about land treaties between the races was dismissed as ridiculous. For the White settlers, land represented status, wealth, and power. Eventually, this notion attracted enough immigrants from the desired background: by 1901, 60% of British Columbians were of British ancestry, while the First Nations population had dropped to 16%, the smallpox epidemic obviously being a factor (Barman, 1991, p. 379). In Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (1991), Benedict Anderson locates the nation as the key marker around which identity is formed. Anderson's analysis is international in scope and focuses on how those in authority generate national images. For my purposes, these representations became powerful markers of status and respectability in the fledgling nation. The British colonizers, as well as others who wanted in on the wages of Whitenss, joined the chorus of nationalism that swept across the country in the 1880s. Soon enough, the Union Jack, more or less on loan from Britain, became associated with Canada through its representation on the flag. In the Canadian context, and in British Columbia in particular, nation-building was still part of empire-building. (This connection is clearly evident in the early versions of the B . C . social studies curriculum, discussed in the next chapter.) This should not be too surprising, given the long history Britain has had throughout the region. Yet, according to Cole Harris (1997), the type of "Britishness" that appeared in British Columbia was different from anywhere else - those who could claim membership came from a variety of backgrounds such as the British Isles, Ontario, the Maritimes, and the United States (p. 263). A s Simon Gikandi states in Maps of Englishness (1996), the 114 imposition of the English language was instrumental in creating a "false totality" of "Bri t ish" people. Furthermore, although British colonists had already used legislation and education to enshrine Whiteness within the region, once British Columbia joined Confederation, both were overwhelmingly effective as hegemonic devices. These instruments of domination, the law and the school, gave support to a conservative ideology that worked to join White people across class lines, excluding others in the process. 4.3.1 British Columbia, Nation-Building, and Social Class Historian Eric Hobsbawm argues in The Age of Empire: 1876-1914 (1987) that the entire imperialist project was part of "the conquest of the globe by the capitalist economy" (p. 14). Hobsbawm explicates the process by which the "invented traditions" of monuments, ceremonies and education are historically-constructed. Education in the western nations, according to Hobsbawm, positions middle-class ideals as the norm. This creates a contradiction, because middle-class sensibilities require a stratum of people to exploit, either in terms of labour or land or both. The racial hierarchies that were popular with European social theorists in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were the perfect accompaniment to capitalism's search for labour. Beginning with explanations of human difference as essentialist categories, European race theory evolved into social scientific conceptions of race as a form of status. In other words, to spread the imperialist project across the globe, the racial hierarchies were exactly what the capitalists required. These imperialist racial theories ensured that there was a working class large enough to fulfill the needs of both the nation and the empire. There was another motivation for the colonization of other peoples' lands, one related to capitalism and notions of hierarchy, of course, but also involving the class relations of Europe. In a 115 particularly telling passage, Robert J. C. Young (1995) paraphrases the French linguist Ernest Renan who wrote in 1871 that "a nation that fails to colonize is irrevocably doomed to socialism, to a war between the rich and poor" (p. 69). It is quite possible that British capitalists in the new province thought that the exploitation of a new labouring class, one that couldn't resist as effectively, would further both their profits and the aims of nation-building. Moreover, the restlessness of the working classes in Europe was quelled by the psychological wages of Whiteness. A s Young repeatedly points out, European elites made sure that working-class Whites understood that they were not on the lowest rung of the human ladder: the Other was made into a savage or barbaric "spectacle" through carnivals and museums. This campaign appears to have been extremely successful. Yet, these same inferior beings were in great demand for capitalism's labour requirements. Migrant labour was specifically used for nation-building purposes, as well as for "the consolidation of political and economic power by the Anglo-Saxons and Scots in English Canada" (Ng, 1993, p. 55). When British Columbia joined Confederation in 1871, one of the conditions politicians in British Columbia demanded from their federal counterparts in Ottawa was the construction of a railway across the country. Despite protests from British Columbians, the federal government allowed migrant labourers from China to be brought to Canada in order to complete this "herculean" task (Tan & Roy, 1985, p. 7). Roxana N g (1993) has described the indentured labour system that resulted in thousands of Chinese men being brought to Canada to build the railway system in the 1870s and 1880s, a project that would enable the new Canadian nation to expand from the Atlantic to the Pacific. In order to maintain White hegemony in Canada, the Chinese men were forbidden to bring their wives or children. Moreover, they were not allowed to engage in "sexual relations with White women, for fear of spreading the 'yellow menace'" (p. 56). Apparently, White authorities on both sides of the 49 t h parallel approved of anti-miscegenation sentiments. 116 Anti-Asian sentiments, however, were strongest in British Columbia (Leier in Laut, 2003; Barman, 1991). White labourers in particular feared for their own well-being by competing against Chinese labourers. Yet, some capitalists were aware that profits could be significantly increased by pitting one race or ethnic group against another. For instance, the extremely virulent anti-unionist, Robert Dunsmuir, ran most of the coal mines on Vancouver Island in the 1870s with his sons. He was also adeptly opportunistic in exploiting White working-class racism. According to Barman (1991): The Dunsmuirs' total concern with prof i t extended to their treatment of employees ... Dunsmuir & Sons sought workers least likely to rock the boat. Chinese were hired at the lowest possible wages ... Knowing no English, newcomers could not communicate with other employees to f ight against poor working conditions. (p. 121) One example of the Dunsmuir attitude to profit by exploitation w i l l illuminate the complex tensions between the White (mainly) British capitalists and the different groups making up the working class. According to labour historian Bryan Palmer (1992), when the Chinese miners tried to improve their situation through collective action, they received no support from their White colleagues (p. 123). Moreover, when management demanded increased productivity, the White miners decided to use the Chinese as "beasts of burden" to increase their own pay cheques. This arrangement, which was nothing short of a Faustian agreement between White labour and White capital, was doomed to be temporary. A s class conflict between these unlikely bed-fellows erupted in the mines during the late 1870s, Dunsmuir hired the Chinese to do the bulk of the mining. This relentless drive for profit resulted in the Chinese being branded as scabs, a label that had the effect of fragmenting worker solidarity for over half a century in British Columbia. The Dunsmuirs continued to exploit White racism and Chinese need by increasing the number of Chinese miners each time the White miners 117 attempted work stoppages throughout the 1880s. In 1883, the Knights of Labour came to the B . C . mines to help stop the Chinese workers from doing "White man's work," invoking what David Roediger (1991) and others refer to as a herrenvolk labour system, especially common in antebellum America (p. 84). Fortunately for the Dunsmuirs, the discourse of White supremacy seemed to blind White labour groups to class concerns. Even as the trade union movement grew across Canada during this period, most White workers were opposed to Chinese memberships in the unions. White labour blamed the Chinese workers for their decreasing standard of living rather than put the blame where it belonged, namely, on White capital. (This same dynamic exists in contemporary British Columbia.) When Robert Dunsmuir's son James became the premier of B . C . in 1900, "his mines continued to maintain their justly deserved reputation as the most dangerous in the world, with a death rate of three to four times that of elsewhere in the British Empire" (Barman, 1991, p. 122). A n estimated 15,000 to 17,000 Chinese came to British Columbia from either China or San Francisco between 1881 and 1884 (Barman, 1991, p. 107; Tan & Roy, 1985, p. 7). Most came to do the dangerous work of building the Canadian Pacific Railway. When it was finally completed in 1885, connecting British Columbia to the rest of Canada, the railway immediately became the great symbol of national pride. Yet, it is sadly ironic that the people who laboured to make the railway a reality, with significant numbers dying in the process, became the victims of racist legislation almost from the day the railway was completed. The discourse of White supremacy aided in the passing of legislation that would force Chinese immigrants to pay a head tax as they arrived in Canada. (I w i l l discuss this more fully in a subsequent section.) Those Chinese workers who re-entered the labour market with the completion of the railway in the mid-1880s had to contend with the Knights of Labor, whose "history" on the west coast is . . . interwoven with a racist working-class attack on Oriental workers" (Palmer, 118 1992, p. 124). The appearance of a different labour group in British Columbia caused an even bigger ruckus, especially among the owners of big business. In the year 1906, B . C . capitalists got a serious scare: the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), sometimes called the Wobblies or One B i g Union, moved up from Chicago and became active in British Columbia. According to historian Mark Leier (2003), the I W W "fought for immediate improvements in working conditions and organized visible minorities and recent immigrants, women, and 'unskilled' workers" (in Laut, p. i i i ) . This was the first significant appearance of the socialist ideology in British Columbia. Moreover, the I W W seemed to be an extreme threat because of the radical insight they had developed - that race should not be an issue in who can join a union - thereby negating the best strategy capitalists in British Columbia had for increasing profit margins. This ideological clash between conservatism and socialism was not taken lightly by the capitalists. I W W members practiced non-violent c iv i l disobedience; the B . C . government responded by removing the strikers at rifle point (Laut, 1912, p. 31), putting many away in the "overflowing prisons." According to Leier (2003), another common scenario was "[w]hen workers resisted, capitalists hired thugs or had the government send in the police to smash strikes and heads" (in Laut, p. vi). Even the middle class in British Columbia was becoming concerned at the presence of the growing working class. After all , the workers "did not share its ethnicity, race, views or mores" (ibid., p. vii) . Support for the crushing of the Wobblies came from eastern Canadian capitalists and its pro-British middle class, both groups being terrified at the prospect of losing power to an organization led by "uneducated" eastern Europeans who also spoke of the rights of Asians, Aboriginals, and Blacks. After the I W W led a strike of 8,000 railway workers in 1912, the capitalists used all their power, 119 including hegemonic instruments like the media and the school, coupled with the physical force of the police and strike-breaking "thugs," to stamp out this radical threat that attempted to jo in the working classes across race and ethnicity (Leier in Laut, 2003). Shortly thereafter, the I W W and its progressive agenda for class over race had all but disappeared in British Columbia. It would be quite some time before a worker-based radical ideology turned into a sweeping social movement in British Columbia. 4.3.2 Conservatism, Race and the Law: 1871 until the 1920s It was during the nation-building period that the Canadian government officially racialized people, conferring varying amounts of privilege and oppression to each person on the sole basis of race. Proof of this racializing process can be found in the categories used in the 1901 Census of Canada, whereby for the first time each individual was identified by their race: " w " for White, "r" for red, "y" for yellow, "b" for black. In accordance with White supremacist conservatism, mixed-race people were to be classified as any race except White, reminiscent of the one-drop rule used in similarly racist American classification schemas. In the making of the category of pure White, the state is shown to be complicit in the construction of race and the cultivation of racist attitudes in its nation-building project. The power of the White'supremacist discourse led to institutionalized racism written into Canadian law during the early years of the twentieth century. Once the census g