Liberalism, Socialism, and Transatlantic Catholic Social Thought in English Canada, 1912 to 1961 By
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THE VIA MEDIA TO VATICAN II: Liberalism, Socialism, and Transatlantic Catholic Social Thought in English Canada, 1912 to 1961 By ROBERT HARRIS DENNIS A thesis submitted to the Department of History in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Kingston, Ontario, Canada June 2014 Copyright © Robert Harris Dennis, 2014 ABSTRACT Following the Capture of Rome and suspension of the First Vatican Council in 1870, the Roman Catholic Church, as a global institution, desperately needed to rethink its relationship to modernity. Catholics had attempted to do so throughout the nineteenth century: applying faith- based principles to matters of social and economic organization and reorienting traditional notions of charity to ones based on social justice. ‘Social Catholicism’ became a groundswell within the Church, culminating in papal encyclicals such as Rerum Novarum (1891) and later Quadragesimo Anno (1931). Concurrently, Catholic scholars had been looking to the medieval philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas for inspiration to confront post-Enlightenment Western Civilization, an initiative reflected by Pope Leo XIII’s Aeterni Patris (1879). These developments became intertwined. These encyclicals argued for a ‘third way’ most often associated with an economic and social philosophy of ‘corporatism.’ However, a corporatist reading came alongside other interpretations in Catholic social thought, which included British distributism and French personalism. Outside of fascist regimes, moreover, the idea of a ‘third way’ must more accurately be repositioned as occupying a ‘liminal’ space between the liberal and socialist traditions. Within this conceptual space came an engagement with modernity—one which created the preconditions for Vatican II. This dynamic affected the universal Church, but, as a via media, one that developed within local and national experiences of Catholicism. Using this framework, this study explores social Catholicism within English Canada from 1912 to 1961. It discerns three streams of social Catholic thought and action associated within the Antigonish Movement of Nova Scotia, the work of Henry Somerville in the Archdiocese of Toronto, and the educational initiatives of the Congregation of Priests of St. Basil. Through these streams, social Catholics experience a space ii of liminality between a social order predicated on liberalism and attempts by the left to live outside of an established set of economic and social relations conditions created by liberalism and capitalism since the 1840s in Canada. For the Canadian Church, this engagement leads to intellectual and institutional restructuring—a middle way, experienced in concert with Catholicism throughout the west, which led to the Second Vatican Council. iii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS It was a humid night in the second week of September, 2005. I had completed my first week of classes in the doctoral programme at Queen’s. At the end of these handful of days, ones which began a journey playing out over four or five years (or so I thought), I waited for the elevator on the fourth floor of Watson Hall. Having spent August backpacking in Europe, these opening days had been a whirlwind: little did I realize, but I had met or become reacquainted with people—Ian McKay, Marguerite Van Die, Sandra den Otter, Jackie Duffin, Matt Trudgen, Yvonne Place, Cathy Dickison—who were instrumental in my intellectual, professional, and personal formation in the years to come. Even though our meeting would have to wait some years, the friendship of Rankin Sherling (along with Claire and Mary McCain), so very much at the heart of my Queen’s experience, also seemed with me from the start. Mom was picking me up that night, and so, after Hist 901, I waited for the elevator to take me from the 4th floor to ground level of Watson Hall. The building was familiar, of course, because of the years I spent at Queen’s during my undergrad, but little did I appreciate that Watson (as with a handful of other campus buildings) were the sites where I would spend countless hours thinking, writing, teaching, and living out my late 20s and early 30s. Years that transformed a younger me, once destined for seminary, into a teacher, scholar, husband, and, most wonderfully, a father. I knew I was blessed in that moment—but little did I realize how many more blessings were yet to unfold! The elevator arrived for pick-up on the fourth floor. A few classmates and I loaded into it. I had an academic year of course work to complete before the heavy lifting of the doctoral thesis, and, in the humidity of that late summer night, my mind was ill-equipped to contemplate all the people whose kindness would eventually bring into being. If my mind could have drifted into this unknown future, though, I would have thought of all the friends and colleagues, students, professors and administrators, archivists, clergy, and other kind people who, directly or iv indirectly, helped me with love, generosity, and support to bring this thesis to completion. My mind would have dizzied thinking of such a long list: Stephen, Amanda, Ben, and baby Kotowych; Rankin, Claire and Mary McCain Sherling; Matthew, Paul, Jo, and Karla Trudgen; Kyla Madden; Jennifer Parker; Juliet Kim; Katie Young; Rob Stevenson and his family; all of my friends from childhood, Edinburgh, and St. John’s; Sean Kelly, Gord Dueck, Sean Mills, Trina Zeimbekis, Rob Engen, Claire Cookson-Hills, Sam Sandassie, Marisha Caswell, and Ben Woodford; Edward MacDonald, Peter Meehan, Heidi MacDonald, Jacqueline Gresko, Valerie Burke, Fr. Edward Jackman OP, Fr. Terry Fay SJ, Peter Baltutis, Peter Ludlow, Patricia Roy, Indre Cuplinksas, MC Havey, Elizabeth McGahan, Brian Hogan, Elizabeth Smyth, Terry Murphy and Mark McGowan; Jennie Aitken, Debra Balinsky, Graham Melcher, Katie Young, Scott Mason, Jason Magalios-Schulein, Peter O’Neill and all of my students, especially in Hist 121, Hist 312, Hist 437, and Theo 545 and 742; Professor Donald Harman Akenson, Richard Bailey, Jim Stayer, David Parker, Jeff Brison, Ana Siljak, Jeff Collins, Rebecca Manley, Andrew Jainchill, Roseanne Currarino, Jeff McNairn, Richard Greenfield, James Carson, Cindy Fehr, Debbie Stirton, and Rosa Bruno-Jofre; Richard Ascough, Pam Dickey-Young, John Young, Cheryl O’Shea, Linda Thomas, and Pam Holmes; Marc Lerman, Gillian Hearns, the late Fr. James Rent CSB, Margaret Sanche, Sister Leone Henke, Susan Klein, Kathleen Mackenzie, and all the kind souls of Madonna House; Fr. Jan Kusyk, Fr. Dale Wright, Fr. Tom MacDonald, and Fr. Bob Wild; Mrs. Kay Birchall; Gracie and Ellie Ellsworth; and Ulma and Robert Vanderheyden. Had I attempted such a feat, it would have come at the peril of advice that a trusted teacher gave me many years ago—not to thank people by name because inevitably someone will be forgotten. If anything, I should have realized that so many people, named and unnamed, would light the path ahead and how grateful I would be to each and every of them! The elevator stopped, and its doors opened. Waiting with love was my golden retriever, Annie dog. “Hello! What are you doing here?” I cried loudly and in an ear-piercing pitch. Annie was the greatest beauty of God’s creation. In Annie, I confide, I always experienced something of the sublime—as if the substance of joy and love could not be contained within the material accidents of my heart, but poured forth and impelled me to share these blessings with others (how is that for applying the lessons of Hist 121?). One of my colleagues, not realizing v that she was my puppy remarked, “Wow, that guy likes dogs!?!” Mom had grown tired of waiting and had come inside to look for me. It was a fitting moment: she had found me as she always did, especially during those times of uncertainty and heartache that are part of each of our paths. My Mom, along with Hollie, Dad, Nanny, Alan, Dean, and Annie, were always a safe harbour, a true north, and a place of peace. They are my family. They love me unconditionally, and this thesis (and the PhD it represents) is much more theirs than mine. With great joy, I can now add Michael, Jackson, and Eloise to this august list. Crouching down on the ever cleanly Watson floor, I scratched my Annie’s tummy. That moment was far removed from the thought that she would be in heaven one day. Providence is magnificent though: Martha and Georgia would arrive a few years later—beautiful and completely their own selves, as, of course, it is supposed to be. But they also carried forth the legacy of “Black Dog and Red Dog,” one that my Annie, who sat waiting for that elevator so many years ago, is, I have no doubt, very proud. In the months leading up to that September night, I had been fortunate enough to meet a lovely young women, Julie. Today I am blessed to call her my wife. I grow with her all the days of my life. Much more than being a PhD, I would not be me without her. Jules, I love you. Thank you for the cornucopia of Cantins that accompany you: Don, Judy, Noel, Christina, Logan, and Malcolm. They would become my wonderful extended family. When I enrolled in the PhD programme, little did I realize how much everyone’s prayers, love, and support would sustain me through it! As I walked with my Annie, I was relieved my first week of doctoral work had drawn to a close, and I survived it. But I felt something deeper. I felt the love of my whole family. It wasn’t new. It was the same love I had been blessed with my whole life long. Had I paused for a second as I left that evening, I could have predicted this thesis would be for them.