Recent Work on the History of Medicine in Canada Colin D
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Document generated on 09/24/2021 12:14 a.m. Acadiensis Back to the Bedside: Recent Work on the History of Medicine in Canada Colin D. Howell Volume 17, Number 2, Spring 1988 URI: https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/acad17_2re03 See table of contents Publisher(s) The Department of History of the University of New Brunswick ISSN 0044-5851 (print) 1712-7432 (digital) Explore this journal Cite this document Howell, C. D. (1988). Back to the Bedside:: Recent Work on the History of Medicine in Canada. Acadiensis, 17(2), 185–194. All rights reserved © Department of History at the University of New This document is protected by copyright law. Use of the services of Érudit Brunswick, 1988 (including reproduction) is subject to its terms and conditions, which can be viewed online. https://apropos.erudit.org/en/users/policy-on-use/ This article is disseminated and preserved by Érudit. Érudit is a non-profit inter-university consortium of the Université de Montréal, Université Laval, and the Université du Québec à Montréal. Its mission is to promote and disseminate research. https://www.erudit.org/en/ Reviews I Revues 185 Montgomery's international readership continues to grow with new transla tions, more critics will want to investigate the qualities in Montgomery's vision that evidently transcend barriers of time and culture. Though Lucy Maud Montgomery may not become for scholars and critics the comfortable, solid industry she has clearly become for Prince Edward Island Tourism, she will gain more credibility and be given more generous (and meticulous) criticism as more and more is found out about her and as more of her writing is republished or published for the first time. And as she is discussed more openly and fairly, perhaps the new Montgomery critics will be able to ignore with impunity any residual disdain, irritation, embarrassment, or incredulity among their critical colleagues. ELIZABETH R. EPPERLY Back to the Bedside: Recent Work on the History of Medicine in Canada FIVE YEARS AGO IN THIS JOURNAL Wendy Mitchinson offered a diagnosis of the existing body of work relating to medical history in Canada and concluded with a hopeful prognosis. Although the patient suffered somewhat from the rather Whiggish interventions of interested amateurs, a new generation of professional historians was on the scene to nurse the field from infancy to adolescence and to subsequent maturity. Armed with the scholarly insights and techniques of the new social history, and assisted by generous dollops of support from the Hannah Institute for the History of Medicine, this new generation has since set about to investigate medicine and health as it relates to questions of class, power, ideology, and social development. If at times this effort has been impeded by the desire of some people associated with the Hannah to make medical history a preserve of schools of medicine rather than of departments of history, a flurry of serious academic publications has nonetheless emerged during the past five years. No longer threatened by infant mortality, the field of medical history in Canada has reached a healthy adolescence. The desire to understand health and medicine in its broader social context is evident in a number of recent studies which touch upon the history of specific diseases, the rise of hospitals and asylums, professionalization and the medical marketplace, the changing modalities of treatment and medical thought, the rise of the modern public health apparatus, and the coming of state medicine. Although many of these works give short shrift to the Maritimes, they contain much that will be of value to those interested in health, medicine, and social reform. Jay Cassel's The Secret Plague: Venereal Disease in Canada 1838-1939 186 Acadiensis (Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 1987), for example, attempts what the author calls a "wide-angle view of the history of VD in Canada" (p. 10). Cassel deals not only with biological and medical issues, but with the social, intellectual, and economic context within which the debate over disease control was rooted. The opening section of the book addresses the nature of the diseases themselves, the state of knowledge about and attitudes towards venereal disease in Victorian Canada, and the early approaches to its treatment ranging from various patent remedies to Salvarsan. From there the author moves into an analysis of the movement for social reform and its relationship to venereal disease control after the turn of the century. In so doing he addresses the shift from voluntarism to state intervention in the fight against VD. Critical to this change was the alarming incidence of venereal disease in the military during World War One: in 1915 28.7 per cent of the soldiers in the Canadian Expeditionary Force were infected. The impulse for reform, Cassel argues, was initially linked to advances in treatment during the first decade of the 20th century. Still, conflicting attitudes among physicians and reformers produced uncertain and divergent responses to the problem. Cassel sees two sides to the reform impulse. The first was the effort of moral reformers to halt social decline and the weakening of the family unit through the suppression of drink and illicit sex. The second was the growing faith in expert management and efficiency. While suggestions of moral reform gradually gave way to the treatment of VD in a non-judgmental public health apparatus, the recent reaction to the AIDS epidemic reveals that many people still equate sexually transmitted disease with immoral conduct. Unlike venereal disease, the treatment of non-communicable diseases such as diabetes failed to capture the imagination of reformers. Instead, as Michael Bliss demonstrates in The Discovery of Insulin (Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 1982), the assault on diabetes was generally confined to the research community, to the efforts of individual scientists, and the interest of private drug companies such as the Eli Lilly Company. Although Bliss could have fallen into the trap of merely celebrating the accomplishments of insulin's discoverers, he does not. Rather he chronicles the tortuous route to its discovery, and the personal rivalries between Frederick Banting, Charles Best, J.B. Collip, and John James Macleod that emerged along the way. The result is an interesting commentary on the nature of scientific research, the relationship of medical discovery to private enterprise, and the creation of popular heroes in the first quarter of the 20th century. In Bliss's work Frederick Banting emerges not as the brilliant scientist of popular perception, but as a man of somewhat diminished stature. Banting comes under fire for his somewhat shoddy research techniques and for a mildly paranoid suspicion of those who collaborated with him. Indeed, it was not Banting the scientist that ultimately prompted Bliss to write Banting. A Biography (Toronto, McClelland & Stewart, 1984), but his enigmatic character. Reviews I Revues 187 Unfortunately this is a disappointing biography. Those who have read The Discovery of Insulin will find much of the book repetitive; nor does it go much beyond Lloyd Stevenson's earlier treatment of Banting's life.1 In writing these two books Bliss had recourse to voluminous correspondence, case books, memoirs, and oral testimony. This contrasts greatly with the resources available to M.J. Losier and C. Pinet whose Children of Lazarus: the Story of the Lazaretto at Tracadie (Fredericton, Fiddlehead Poetry Books and Gooselane Editions, 1984) addresses the history of leprosy in the North Shore region of New Brunswick. To chronicle the experience of those consigned to the lazaretto the authors use the fictionalized voice of Marguerite Robichaud, a mother of two from Tracadie who contracted the disease and was banished from her community. One theme of the book is that the treatment of these lepers reinforced the disdainful attitude of the English-speaking community of New Brunswick towards the Acadian population. In an age when sickness was equated with sinfulness, ignorance, and filth, the existence of leprosy amongst the Acadians at Tracadie served to confirm Anglo-Saxon feelings of superiority. "What hurt us more than 'la maladie'", says one character, "was the way they talked about us, like we were stupid, like the disease was a punishment for not being able to read or having no water in the house or for not speaking English" (p. 7). The history of clinical disorders such as leprosy also comprises a substantial section of Charles G. Roland's Health, Disease and Medicine: Essays in Canadian History (Toronto, Clarke Irwin, 1984), a collection of 23 essays presented to the first Hannah Conference on the History of Medicine at McMaster University in June 1982. Included are Kathryn McQuaig's discussion of tuberculosis, its treatment, and its relationship to social reform, and essays by William Spaulding and Chuck Roland on smallpox control. In addition, Janice Dicken McGinnis's examination of the lazaretto at Tracadie provides a nice scholarly counterpoint to the Losier and Pinet book. The other sections of this collection deal with medical professionalization, public health, and the medical treatment of women and children. The most interesting of these remaining papers are Sam Shortt's treatment of general practise in Canada between 1890 and 1940, Tom Brown's analysis of the relationship between shell shock and the growing authority of psychiatry as a profession during the First World War, and Wendy Mitchinson's analysis of the medical profession's tendency to regard women's illnesses as products of the female reproductive system. In addition, in an article on the 19th century medical fraternity in Halifax, Colin Howell argues that the growing influence of medical doctors in the Maritimes owed more to their strategy of professionalization and their attachment to the ideology of science than to their developing therapeutic competence.