Robert Gilpin, The Challenge of Global Capitalism: The World Economy in the 21st Century (Princeton: Princeton University Press 2000)

ALTHOUGH GLOBALIZATION studies have shot to the top of everyone’s agenda, many of the ideas and assumptions about globalization are untrue, exaggerated, or just plain wrong. Even the simplest idea that economic integration is a global phenomenon has to be taken with a grain of salt. For instance, economic integration despite the formation of trade blocs remains partial and uneven and many countries are less integrated than previously, according to conventional measures. Germany’s degree of trade openness measured by standard economic criteria of imports plus exports actually declined from 1980 to 1998 from 28 per cent to 25.7 per cent. Argentina’s economy shared little in the competitive drive to acquire new markets during the same period and rose 8 per cent to 11.7 per cent. The United States, the defender of global free trade, saw its degree of trade openness rise minimally from 10.4 per cent to 12.2 percent, hardly the success story of global forces at work in today’s world. To make matters more complex, Japan was more trade dependent in 1980 than in 1998: 15.3 per cent in 1980 and 10.1 per cent in 1998. If globalization is such a universal force, why is Japan, one of the world’s leading trade nations, seemingly moving backwards? It is difficult questions such as these that Robert Gilpin sets out to explore in his marvelously synthetic work.

      None of these figures, as Gilpin shows in his remarkable book, are adequate measures of globalization but they raise the basic issue, which he addresses with erudition and conviction, that while globalization is indeed the great transformative force of our times, its future is anything but secure and may indeed be reversible in many of its aspects because the system of globalization is not well-anchored and there is too much friction driven by US short-term policy needs. If there is one overarching theme in Gilpin’s commanding study, it is that when globalization rests only on a narrow economic foundation, such as it does now, its political foundation could collapse. After all, there are many imminent dangers facing the world system at present, including rising poverty for many of the globe’s citizens, under-consumption for many producers because there is no link between increasing exports and rising standards of living for all, an uncontrollable social deficit from the absence of human rights and environmental and labour standards, and, of course, always present, the siren calls of protectionism. When he speaks of the challenge with a capital "C," what he means is that the major powers need to strengthen their economic and political ties so that the economic system has a sustainable political framework. If they do not, the global trading system cannot hold its course in its present form.

      It is difficult to know whether Gilpin’s answers are satisfactory to these compelling challenges but his exploration of the contradictory forces of globalization, as well as the system dysfunctionality generated by US foreign policy interests, makes for compelling and informative reading. From a policy perspective, Gilpin thinks of himself as centrist within American elite circles, though many would see him as much more to the right compared to the tough-minded, stinging analysis of the World Bank that Stiglitz has delivered in recent times or even the white-knuckled analysis penned by Sylvia Ostry in many of her recent articles about the shortcomings of the WTO. Nonetheless, he has few illusions that US policy makers are likely to be the best guardians of the present order because American foreign policy has abandoned a system of multilateralism for what Gilpin dubs "geopolitical economic regionalism." This is hardly a felicitous term but it conveys one of his central ideas that the United States would very much like to make the world "more like us" and this goal has been and continues to be central to the administration’s economic strategy, whoever the president is. The fact that Washington’s strong post-war commitment to a world order based exclusively on multilateralism and nondiscrimination is now less evident than ever as a policy fundamental means that its shift towards a unilateral stance will increasingly create many problems for global governance. The most important is that US style multi-track strategy encourages rising US protectionist pressures both from the Congress and many US-based multinationals.

      Many non-American readers will find Gilpin’s rigorous but balanced analysis of aggressive unilateralism refreshing. If Gilpin is right that geo-economics has replaced geopolitics in the post-Cold War world, American governments will find it relatively easy to subordinate international global commitments and US foreign policy concerns to the exigencies of domestic politics. For the rest of the world, this can only spell trouble, concern, and a high degree of suspicion about US leadership. If it is right to believe that the world trading system was right to expect less and less from US foreign policy from Clinton, it is a reasonable assumption that under Bush it will be much worse. The world financial order is likely to become much more unpredictable and unstable.

      There is a lot wrong with the global trading system as we know it. The benefits are elusive and the costs are borne by developing countries and low income groups in the developed world. Theoretically, free trade is supposed to raise prosperity for all but the asymmetric gains from open trade prevent many countries from managing their own economies. The stress on competitiveness has not led to less concentration of power but rather the massive agglomeration of power in the hands of private actors. Gilpin reviews the evidence and concludes that even when technology allows firms to be more competitive, wages have fallen for many skilled and semi-skilled workers instead of rising as they should, according to trade theory, wherein all will be better off if markets lead and governments follow.

      Theoretically, economists face a double challenge. First, as Gilpin demonstrates, much of contemporary trade theory is weak and confusing with regards to technological change and the importance of domestic policies and institutions. Secondly, contrary to what so many of the social scientists have believed in recent times, institutions, domestic markets, and macro-economic management of the economy remain the key levers of economic well-being during times of global trade. This is why Gilpin’s book is so informative and critical. In large measure he escapes many of the current ideological wars and sees through the distortions, which have framed the debates on globalization, both on the left and the right. While he is not obsessed with demolishing myths, he provides the reader with a powerful comparative and critical account of the great debates on globalization. Among the subjects covered are: the fragility of the global economy, the second great age of capitalism, the insecurity of the trading order, European and North American economic integration, Asian regionalism, and globalization and its discontents. His book makes for worthwhile reading and it is an excellent text from a US liberal-conservative. Nothing should surprise us now that Gilpin has remade himself as such a curious, open-minded scholar. After all, in a post-Washington Consensus world changing places is the norm and not the exception.

I LIVE IN VANCOUVER, near the corner of Bute and Georgia Streets, within sight of Burrard Inlet, and walking distance from English Bay and Stanley Park. Almost anyone who has the slightest familiarity with the city knows the area; and depending on when they encounter it, they’ll either be struck by its natural beauty or frustrated by the interminable gridlock. We’re much less likely to think of it as a colonized landscape — unless we’ve read Islands of Truth, a book that asks us to reconsider the reference points we routinely use to locate ourselves in this space. "Vancouver," of course, is named after explorer George, the intrepid captain of HMS Discovery, whose 1792 cartographic voyages brought the northwest coast into the ambit of British power; "Bute Street" after John Stuart, third Earl of Bute, the whist-playing, horse racing favorite of King George III, Vancouver’s patron — and the man whose deeds are enshrined in "Georgia Street"; and "Burrard Inlet" after Harry Burrard, Vancouver’s Royal Navy comrade from his days in the West Indies.

      According to Daniel W. Clayton, the otherwise unremarkable place names that make up the geography of everyday life in my part of the world are implicated in the ongoing extension of colonial power. In fact, he argues that they were fundamental to the "imperial fashioning" of the coast in the 18th and 19th centuries that is the subject of this book. Cast as a contribution to post-colonial studies, Islands of Truth is concerned with the connections between power and knowledge; specifically with the linkages between western imperialism and the knowledge produced by James Cook’s scientific and humanitarian voyages of "discovery" in 1778, the cartographic expeditions of George Vancouver in 1792, and the intervening and overlapping commercial capitalist exploitation of the region in the maritime fur trade. Each of these contacts with the coast and its peoples produced particular spatial and historical "truths" about Vancouver Island, which were embedded and circulated on maps, ledger books, contemporary and historical accounts of the period, and in public commemorations. Examples of the "culture of colonialism," these artifacts were embodiments of imperial power and the means by which British sovereignty was extended over aboriginal territory.

      While Cook, Vancouver, and the fur traders all saw Vancouver Island with "imperial eyes," their visions were not as unified or as confident as we might expect from such erstwhile and hardy adventurers. Nor did they marginalize aboriginal peoples equally. In the three parts that make up this book, Clayton outlines the multiple and differently selective imperial visions at work on the coast, each stemming from different historical and geographic circumstances. In Part One, Clayton shows how the scientific and humanitarian mandate of Cook’s voyage created the space to acknowledge the humanity of indigenous peoples while simultaneously confirming their inferiority. As well, the nature of his mandate made it possible for Cook’s officer-scientists to raise fundamental epistemological questions about the enlightenment project and its assumptions about the possibility of knowing, and about the limits of human knowledge.

      In Part Two, we see how the maritime fur traders who followed in their footsteps had no time for philosophy, driven as they were by the narrower pursuit of pelts and profit. Nonetheless, their sometimes violent encounters with Native peoples generated a commercial knowledge of the coast that was also characterized by a grudging recognition of aboriginal localities and differences, and an acknowledgement of a sophisticated indigenous commercial and political geography which pre-dated their arrival. The face-to-face, "embodied" nature of maritime traders’ contact with aboriginal peoples also gave rise to the same emotions among them as it did Cook’s officers: desire and fear; admiration and disgust; and, above all, ambivalence. All of this privately-expressed emotion stood in stark contrast to the scientific dispassion and commercial bravado contained in official accounts.

      As is evident in Part Three, it also contrasted with the imperial knowledge of the coast elaborated in the wake of the Nootka Crisis, a conflict between Britain and Spain over sovereignty of the northwest coast. Commercial knowledge was important to the process of "imperial aggrandizement," but not in its original form. A detailed understanding of Native differences, territories, and alliances may have been crucial to guaranteeing traders’ profits but it was of little import in the paper war between British and Spanish diplomats. To make commercial knowledge serve the needs of the British imperial state, politicians stripped it down and reworked it, obscuring the details of contact and instead abstracting "grand synthetic statements about profit margins and potential of the coast." (160) The imperial knowledge that emerged from this process of abstraction transformed the coast into a "mythical locality," the first step in its appropriation from aboriginal peoples.

      George Vancouver played a crucial role in this process of abstraction and appropriation. Dispatched to conduct an exhaustive survey of the coast to establish Britain’s claim to the region, rather than to engage its indigenous inhabitants, Vancouver’s contacts with the island that bears his name were remarkably devoid of the face-to-face. The "dis-embodied" nature of his engagement was reflected in his maps of the region, which, incredibly, acknowledged Spanish place names but not aboriginal settlements. Vancouver’s charts subsequently made it possible for diplomats, politicians, and colonial administrators to overlook aboriginal ownership and sovereignty as they did in the 1846 Oregon boundary dispute with the Americans, and in the settlement of Vancouver Island in the second half of the 19th century. As such, Vancouver’s maps were the key to the "imperial fashioning" of region, creating as they did an "anticipatory geography" of colonization.

      This is an important and in many ways, innovative book, one that is as empirically solid as it is theoretically bold — so much so that readers may find its juxtapositions somewhat disconcerting. Canadian historians are not used to reading the 18th-century arguments of Spain’s chargé d’affaires alongside the abstractions of post-colonial theorist Gayatri Spivak. Nor have the pronouncements of regional historians Frederic Howay and Walter Sage been scrutinized using the insights of Homi Bhaba and Edward Said. As well as engaging a complex body of social theory, dealing with the relationship between culture and imperialism, Islands of Truth also engages a number of more familiar historical debates. They range from ones about the impact of the maritime fur trade on aboriginal peoples, and the geopolitical machinations preceding the Treaty of Oregon, to the role of historians in forging a provincial identity.

      Given this range of engagement, it is perhaps not surprising that one of my concerns about this book relates to its overall coherence. It is extremely difficult to create a framework that is large enough to hold all of these ideas and facts and at the same time maintain its own shape. By and large, Clayton succeeds, but not always: the lengthy discussion of aboriginal trading strategies at Nootka and Clayoquot Sounds, as well as the discussion of the historiography of the maritime trade and the diplomacy surrounding the Oregon Boundary dispute, were not always as closely connected as they might have been to mapping and power, the central preoccupations of the book.

      That, however, is a small quibble. Beyond its substantive arguments, Islands of Truth is significant because it invites historians to consider both the possibilities and the limitations of post-colonial theory in shedding light on the past. The questions, arguments, language, and voice of Islands of Truth certainly bear the imprint of the author’s deep engagement with that rich and provocative literature — with one important exception: namely, its representation of aboriginal peoples. Although they are present in Islands of Truth, Native peoples exist mainly to disrupt the narrative of white colonizers or to elaborate on them. For instance, Clayton contrasts the well-documented accounts produced by Cook and officers about first contact with the slim and translated ones attributed to local aboriginal peoples. In addition, he fills in the outline of maritime trade provided by the official record with ethnographic and archaeological evidence.

      The results, as I have suggested, are illuminating, and Clayton is careful to discuss the limits of his evidence. I make this point not so much to criticize his substantive arguments, but to raise a more general question about whether or not post-colonial history is possible. Or perhaps more constructively, to ask what kind of post-colonial history is possible? How can historians grant aboriginal peoples the same subjectivity they do Europeans? How can they represent the aboriginals as whole people, ones who create elaborate and partial "truths" of their own, who are possessed of the same doubt, ambivalence, desires, fears, and prejudices that we grant to Europeans?

      If Islands of Truth provokes us to think about the difficulties in producing a post-colonial history, it also leads us to consider strengths and weaknesses of one of its more specific approaches, namely its focus on the imaginative dimensions of power. Clayton’s central premise is that "colonialism does not start with occupation alone, and it does not work solely on land; it also works with images and representations, with imaginative geographies that precede, and to a degree, anticipate colonialism." (166) While few would take issue with the idea that images and representations are forms of  knowledge and hence power, some might ask how important they were to realizing the imperial project and the colonization which followed. Though Clayton acknowledges this question, he doesn’t answer it. Perhaps it is unanswerable.

      But there is another, equally important and perhaps intractable question regarding the politics of an approach that privileges the imaginative manifestations of power. In focusing on the harms perpetrated by Europeans’ maps and ledger books instead of their germs and guns, we can overlook the materiality and the "embodied" nature of colonialism’s violence. Representations are themselves disembodied forms of power, and perhaps in focusing on them almost exclusively, we risk turning ourselves into latter day versions of George Vancouver, producing academic abstractions which, like his charts, become an unwitting part of colonialism.

      These musings about theory and method are not meant to deny the importance of this book, but rather stand as evidence of its power to engage readers. As should be clear, Islands of Truth is a thoughtful and thought-provoking piece of work that deserves a wide audience. Those who read it will be well rewarded.

Joy Parr, Domestic Goods: The Material, the Moral, and the Economic in the Postwar Years (Toronto: University of Toronto Press 1999)

Peter Ward, A History of Domestic Space: Privacy and the Canadian Home (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press 1999)

WHY THE CURRENT allure of the domestic, the home, the everyday? Is it a visceral reaction to the cool impersonality and inescapable pervasiveness of globalization as it designs and controls every aspect of our lives? Certainly a recent spate of publications in the last couple of years, both popular and scholarly, and across disciplines from architectural history to literary theory invite us to reconsider our understanding of private spaces in relation to intimacy, comfort, and desire. Cheryl Mendelson’s Home Comforts: The Art and Science Of Keeping House (1999); Marjorie Garber’s Sex and Real Estate: Why We Love Houses(2000); Akiko Busch’s Geography of Home: Writings on Where We Live(1999); Routledge’s edited collections, Rethinking Architecture (1997); and Gender Space Architecture (2000), are examples of such publications.

      In their studies, Peter Ward and Joy Parr, eminent social historians from UBC and SFU respectively (Parr participated in Ward’s Science and Society seminar at Green College, UBC), have turned their attention to Canadian domestic space and domestic goods, though from quite different perspectives. Ward surveys the evolution of Canadian houses — the family home — over the past three centuries. He does not include domestic spaces of the first nations, claiming, counter to archaeological evidence, that "we’ll never know very much about housing in Canada before the eighteenth century." (8) As indicated by the subtitle, he focuses on how privacy evolved in the home and how it was accommodated through changing designs and attitudes during the centuries. Here he is influenced by Witold Rybczynksi’s 1986 popular history of the home in western society. Like Rybczynski, Ward sweeps broadly — through the 1700s to the present; Ward also sweeps widely from one end of the country to the other; relying heavily on census data and archival material — photographs, architectural plans. He begins with the ubiquitous one room dwelling, suggesting that this is the oldest house type in Canada — and we see its reiteration in contemporary studio and loft apartments and in the summer cottage or cabin. Specific family homes are described in physical detail through floor plans and photographs; we learn the size and number of rooms and the size of the families who inhabit these houses.

      In explaining changes in the spatial organization of domestic space and the subsequent effect on personal privacy, Ward outlines technological innovations and advances such as bathtubs, toilets, heating, lighting, thus providing the general reader with valuable information. However, when he begins to touch on wider social issues by, for example, reporting how one observer noted that the modern generation gap might be a product of electric light which facilitated the dispersal of the children to their rooms, he retreats from further analysis, a recurring and problematic pattern in the book. (51) I recognize that this elegantly produced book, available only in hardcover, with substantial, finely reproduced illustrations in the form of paintings, cartoons, photographs, and floor plans, may be intended for a general rather than an academic readership. Nevertheless, Ward evades what is surely the most vital aspect of domestic space — the lives of the people — especially the women, children, and servants, habitually unacknowledged in historical accounts — who inhabited these spaces, were influenced by spatial arrangements, and themselves affected their own spaces. Assumptions and myths about "family" are facile; for example, Ward in describing a highrise in Hull, Quebec in 1971, writes that the provision of cantilevered balconies allowed single residents "the same access to the great outdoors enjoyed by its happily married residents," an odd assertion. (95) Rather like the stark lines of the house plans he provides abundantly, the book remains an outline, deprived of human figures and stories. Ward claims that, although we "have the written record — letters, diaries, reminiscences, travellers’ accounts … which offer glimpses into the everyday experience … as social historians know all too well, many things we wish to know about the past were thought too ordinary or unimportant to warrant writing down." (61) But our literary history resonates with lively descriptions of domestic life — Susanna Moodie and Catherine Parr Traill’s voluminous correspondence and their publications, Roughing It in the Bush and Backwoods of Canada in the 1800s are a case in point. Similarly, Gabrielle Roy’s Bonheur d’occasion (The Tin Flute), her 1945 social realist novel about a large and impoverished family, set in the working-class district of Montreal, St. Henri, during the Depression, contradicts Ward and the studies he cites that "overcrowding was uncommon" in early industrial Montreal. (18)

      Moreover, the question of gender in relation to domestic space is only fleetingly referred to when Ward claims, without duly examining or supporting his claim, that "gender categories don’t shed much light on the relations between privacy and domesticity." (157) In his conclusion, Ward expresses concern about how the new technologies — internet and fax — invade and alter the privacy of the home, a pressing issue and, like the role of gender in privacy and domesticity, deserving of further elaboration and investigation.

      In her approach to domesticity and the home through the specific context of the design, production, marketing, and reception of postwar domestic goods such as washing machines, refrigerators, and stoves, Parr suggests that the consumer (a term she correctly subjects to analysis), in this case the Canadian homemaker, did engage in a form of resistance to American corporatization, offering a potential model for our own resistance to the global market economy. In her introduction, Parr poses a series of probing questions that elevate this study beyond an outline of the production and marketing of goods into re-examination of what is Canadian ("a caution of excess"), and of the role of Canadian designers and Canadian women homemakers, who through (twenty-three) interviews belie simple categorization as passive sexual objects and consumers. To draw the diverse parts of this wide-ranging and potentially unwieldy study into a coherent theoretical framework, Parr asks: how do we understand the aesthetics behind goods, how does contemporary technology constrain (or indeed promote) how goods are made, and does government not only influence access to possessions, but also influence the form of things? And most importantly, she wonders, and here we return to my opening query about the turn to domestic issues as a response to globalization: "What can and do citizens do when, by gender, class, or nationality, they have little influence over the shape of the material world in which they must live?" (4) In order to begin to answer these complex questions, Parr shapes her chapters as "closely researched biographies of policies, institutions and objects." (267) Thus, she first describes the continuation and consequences of wartime controls and policies on Canadian domestic goods; for example, in 1941, the Wartime Prices and Trades Board restricted production of refrigerators, stoves, and electric washing machines in order that fuels and metals be directed to the war effort. In the postwar period, Parr  documents the difference between Canadian and American attitudes to consumption of domestic goods in that Canadians (like the British) were apparently readier to accept controls and the scarcity of goods than Americans. Parr also discusses how designs for domestic goods evolved and the role of institutions such as museums; she focuses on two important Toronto exhibitions: Design in Industry (Royal Ontario Museum, 1945) and Design in the Household (Toronto Art Gallery, 1946), exhibitions, which in terms of visitor interaction and of the interplay between art and commodity, are surprisingly close to current exhibition trends at, for example, the Tate Modern. Regretfully, Parr points out that as "shapers of public taste and arbiters of the new, museums in the interwar period lost precedence to department stores, fairs and expositions." (42)

      In another subsequent chapter, "Inter/national Style," Parr explores how Canadian designers and manufacturers negotiated their own style — between an international modernism and a national, traditional, craft based design, and between the small Canadian market and the overpowering influence of American mass production. A specfic example of Canadian indigenous design and materials is offered in "Maple as Modern," the story of the manufacture of maple furniture, practical, conservative, durable. Parr reproduces the advertisement for an "Imperialist Loyalist" living room set —"tradition in the modern manor" to illustrate this phenomenon; indeed as I write this review, I look across at a maple Ruxton chest of drawers, purchased for me by my parents in the 1960s, now used by our daughter, still intact, and simultaneously modern and traditional. In other chapters, Parr touches on economic theory and resources policies when she outlines contributing elements to the understanding of the local domestic goods market, elements such as borrowing, consumer credit, installment plans, and the effect of competing power sources — natural gas and electricity on the manufacture of domestic goods. Research and discussion of so many diverse and complex elements pose the danger of diffusing Parr’s focus on the ethical and aesthetic aspects of domestic goods, but she continues to avoid this pitfall and to draw upon this abundant material to enrich the background of her thesis. Perhaps because of the density of her argument and the copiousness of her documentation, there are some editorial oversights that result in sentence errors (17 and 70, for example).

      Bolstered by data and responses from twenty-three interviewees (a limited sample alas), Parr offers fascinating "biographies" of three significant goods — the washing machine, the stove, the refrigerator. Her presentation in "What Makes Washday Less Blue" of the continuing postwar popularity of the wringer washer (and I do remember my mother pulling sheets — and her hand — through the wringer, and the ensuing puddles of soapy water on the cold concrete floor) over the new, automatic washing machines in Canada, contrary to American consumer trends makes a powerful and engaging case for Canadian pragmatism, modesty, and compromise.

      By re-examining and revalidating our domestic spaces and domestic lives, as Parr somewhat wistfully concludes, "we too will make grounds for reasoned and resisting hope ... in space the state and the market cannot readily claim as their own." (270)

Mark Leier, Rebel Life: The Life and Times of Robert Gosden, Revolutionary, Mystic, Labour Spy (Vancouver: New Start Books 1999)

THIS IS A BOOK with laudable intentions: to recover the complex life of a relatively unknown worker, and more generally to kindle interest in British Columbia’s labour history. As I read the book, I kept thinking guiltily that I ought to be enjoying it more.

      Rebel Life is the biography of Robert Gosden. He left England as a young man and came to North America in the early 1900s. Gosden apparently spent much of his working life in labouring jobs although Leier is chiefly interested in describing his career as an activist in the labour movement. The most intriguing aspect of Gosden’s involvement with organized labour was his role as a police informant from 1919 to the early 1920s. Readers of Labour/Le Travail will be familiar with this chapter in Gosden’s life, since Leier described it in a 1998 article. Although the book gives some additional detail, it does not alter significantly that earlier account.

      In the opening chapter of the book, Leier poses the rhetorical question, "Who was this contradictory, shadowy man?" (7) He answers that Gosden "was typical of the migrant workers who did much of the work on the industrial frontiers of North America. His story reveals the world of the blanket stiff, the hobo, the rough worker." That may well be the case, but the pages of Rebel Life tell the reader very little about this world. In fact, the only vivid description comes in a letter written by another individual, presumably included to make up for the shortage of such detail from Gosden’s own life. (9) Leier returns to the significance of Gosden’s life in the fifth chapter of the book, repeating the claim that it illuminates the world of the migrant male labourer. (133) He also argues that it serves as a reminder of the oppression endured by working people, that it offers "some glimpses of the shadowy world of labour spy," and "reminds us that workers are as important in our history as the politicians and business owners who are more usually studied." (134, 136) The chapter concludes that "Understanding his story helps us understand, to some small degree, the working people who make the province and history." (137)

      The last chapter of the book is a wide-ranging discussion of Leier’s research which shades into a "how-to" guide for others interested in exploring British Columbia’s labour history. I suspect it would be of limited use to readers of Labour/Le Travail, but valuable for novice researchers. An extensive bibliography of British Columbia’s labour history is also included in the book, compiled by graduate students at Simon Fraser University.

      Leier is confident that Gosden’s life is representative or illustrative of the experience of working people. I am less sure. Much of the detail in the book concerns Gosden’s political activities, and the consequences of those activities from 1910 to the early 1920s. In part, this reflects the sources upon which Leier was forced to rely, but it also seems to privilege the very processes that the author sought to subvert. Gosden’s biography only comes alive when he is on the stand or writing reports for the police, implicitly contradicting Leier’s claims about the book.

      Although Leier writes well, I found the story itself of limited interest. Missing is the careful detail of Rolf Knight’s several studies of lives spent on the lower mainland, Bill White’s boisterous prose, the insider accounts of John Stanton, or the poignancy of Irene Howard’s life of Helena Gutteridge. Nor does Gosden’s life make any more sense to me, having read the book, than when I first picked it up. Why would a man, who until his death kept photos of Joe Hill and Wesley Everest, act as a spy for a government intent on oppressing working people? Rebel Life provides no real answer to that question. Leier does attempt to explain Gosden’s willingness to betray his fellow workers, but his explanation is not very persuasive. (see 102-104) Similarly, his assertion that Gosden’s biography "stands in for the millions of men and women in BC and Canada whose lives go largely unrecognized and unwritten" struck me as idiosyncratic. (137) This is a man who urged governments to round up and jail labour activists, who embraced the anti-semitic doctrines of Major Douglas, and who ended his days a cranky survivalist carrying a sword-cane. It is the atypical nature of Gosden’s life that makes it of interest, a career that runs in counterpoint to the activities of more well-known labour figures of his day.

      The book includes numerous sidebars; text that runs down the outer margins. The effectiveness of this is questionable. Some of this material would have been better placed within the body of the text, such as Leier’s answer to the question, "When Did Gosden Become a Spy?" This runs in juxtaposition to the text for twelve pages, including an excellent discussion of the trustworthiness of George Hardy’s Those Stormy Years. (88-99) Another innovation of doubtful value was placing the index in front of the 50-page bibliography, rather than at the end. This does not make an index easy to use.

      Notwithstanding all of this critical commentary, the book has considerable value. Leier is a good historian and if Gosden’s life is not all that he claims for it, his biography does shed light on important episodes in BC’s labour history.

Pat Armstrong, Hugh Armstrong, Ivy Lynne Bourgeault, Jacqueline Choiniere, and Eric Mykhalouskiy, "Heal Thyself" Managing Health Care Reform (Toronto: Garamond 2000)

THIS RELATIVELY SHORT book of 146 text pages primarily describes changes in health care during the 1990s. One of the most significant contributions of this book to current general knowledge of health care and the health system in Canada is information provided on the rationale or basis for these changes. Just as significant is the identification and description of concerns about these changes. To date, these concerns have not been acknowledged or recognized as legitimate.

      This book is primarily a critique of top-down managerial reforms, reforms which have not taken a grass roots participative nor shared governance approach. Although it raises much food for thought, two issues reduce its impact. First, and foremost, inconclusive evidence is offered. For instance, this book has only 153 references. Much thus depends on the authors’ ground in health care, yet no information is provided about the authors’ background. A second issue is the book’s minimal structure. This issue is illustrated by the catchy, but misleading title of the book. The intent of this book, to inform the public about health care changes that impact access to comprehensive high quality health care and to raise public concern over both ineffectual management and harmful reforms of the Canadian health system, would be assisted through enhanced structural organization. A more detailed description of the issues and key contributions of this book follows.

      The introduction starts nicely with a clear statement, a statement identifying much about the thesis or purpose of this book: "This is a book primarily about health care reform in Canada, and the consequences of these reforms, particularly as they are assessed by registered nurses." (1) Following this, the authors indicate, in considerable depth, that health care reforms date back to World War II and that reforms are global in context. One additional major point is made, that the current model for health care reform is the private, for-profit sector. Tied in are three tenets of change: 1) "integrated systems ensure continuity of care," 2) "making providers and patients accountable ensures that appropriate (quality) care is delivered to the people," and 3) "health promotion and disease and injury prevention ensures that people stay healthy." (4-5) The introduction unfortunately presents the book’s conclusions, as opposed to raising concern over the impact of change, particularly change arising from poorly designed health care reforms.

      The first chapter, as described in the introduction, is intended to be a brief overview of the "context for health reform, a context that sets the stage for local initiatives. It outlines the development of welfare states in the period following World War II, and explains how we established a publicly funded health care system in Canada." (3) The intent of the first chapter is later modified as it also outlines "some of the pressures and influences to change health care in Canada ... (as well as) the new paradigm dominant in the international and national arenas." (8) Chapter one presents useful information on the history of the health system, with its origin said to be grounded in the charitable and caring actions of women. Nursing is thus introduced. The ongoing significance of the role of women in health care is said to be instrumental, particularly around World War II, for shaping the health system. This book advances a feminist viewpoint, a viewpoint which is refreshing to hear after a concentrated focus on the men who brought about our health system. Other influences for creating a publicly-funded universal health system are briefly explored, although it is unfortunate that the authors did not ground the health system in the 1957 Hospital Insurance and Diagnostic Services Act or 1966 Medical Care Act. Instead they cite the 1984 Canada Health Act for bringing hospital and medical insurance together. Another issue is that the authors use the term "welfare state." (17) This derogatory term may describe what will be later understood as the golden years of public policy. These golden years created single tier health and education systems, and a social safety network for older persons, unemployed persons, mentally infirm persons, and so on. It is also regrettable that the authors are not more precise in their dates. For instance when was "the new neoliberal paradigm ... with its faith in a ‘free economy and a strong state’" introduced? (17) This busy chapter also introduces the debt/deficit pressure, limits of public care, technology pressures, health care as a business, and models for health care reform. Efficiency and choice, and efficiency and accountability are considered forerunners of the neoliberal paradigm. This chapter, which was intended to have an international focus, focuses on health and social developments in Canada. Little evidence is presented of international developments to show how pervasive this new business approach has become.

      The second chapter, as described in the introduction, "examines more recent changes in Canada that have fundamentally challenged the welfare state and the health care services it provides." (3) This chapter begins with a discussion of international agreements and then moves into a discussion of downsizing and devolution. The federal government is criticized for beginning the downsizing trend, with this trend considered negative to women. Other sweeping statements are made, and little evidence provided. At the same time, many of the concerns that exist about health care reform are presented, and this in itself is extremely important.

      The third, fourth, and fifth chapters, as described in the introduction, were "designed as an initial step to assessing these new ways (i.e. integrated systems, accountability, and health promotion and disease and injury prevention) of managing health care." (3) Much of the information for these chapters comes from 10 group interviews with 39 registered nurses in British Columbia during the month of October 1997. Although much was obviously gained from these interviews, more recent interviews of nurses and the public, along with the presentation of other diverse evidence would be beneficial for validating nurse concerns about change. In addition, an account of evidence which supports change would be beneficial. For instance, hospital downsizing has lead to shorter hospital stays, but not necessarily to poorer health outcomes as a result of earlier discharges.

      The conclusion to the book, roughly two pages in length, is a quick summary of the main points of the book, namely that there are pressures for change, and that "nurses support reform" but do not see these changes as reform. (146) Perhaps the most important statement is the last one in which they fear "an undermining of public health care." (146)

      In conclusion, this book is an important early and critical look, mainly from an insider’s (nurses) perspective, at health care changes during the 1990s. This is a very relevant time to critically appraise health system changes. Not only has much change occurred, but many more changes will occur. Some future changes will correct inadequate planning but others could continue to support casualisation and deprofessionalization of the health workforce, the unfunded shift of care to the home, and the continued introduction of a for-profit business model into health care. The authors argue that not much good has come of the 1990s changes. Continuing them would be even more detrimental to the Canadian health care system.

Margaret Hobbs and Joan Sangster, dir., The Woman Worker, 1926-1929 (St.-Jean, Terre-Neuve: Canadian Committee on Labour History 1999)

DANS CE RECUEIL d’écrits journalistiques, les historiennes Margaret Hobbs et Joan Sangster rendent accessibles des textes qui jusqu’à maintenant n’étaient disponibles que sur du papier fragile et déjà souvent émietté, au fond des Archives nationales du Canada. Les spécialistes des mouvements de gauche et de l’histoire des femmes leur en sauront gré et y trouveront matière à illustrer les grandes préoccupations non seulement des femmes communistes mais aussi de toutes celles qui, critiquant l’ordre établi, aspiraient à une société plus juste.

      À l’été 1926 paraît une revue mensuelle d’envergure nationale, Woman Worker, l’organe de la Fédération cana-dienne des Ligues des femmes ouvrières appelées communément Ligues féminines. Celles-ci, présentes surtout dans les communautés ethniques socialistes, au début du siècle, prennent un nouvel essor après la Grande Guerre, cette fois sous l’égide du Parti communiste du Canada (PCC) qui les fédère en 1924. En 1927, on en compte 37 de Glace Bay à Vancouver en passant par Timmins et Montréal. La direction est confiée à Florence Custance, une militante prestigieuse à la tête du secrétariat des femmes du Parti communiste du Canada. Les membres des Ligues sont loin d’être toutes des communistes, mais elles demeurent des recrues potentielles.

      Comme les écrits communistes sont indissociables de la position officielle du parti à ce point précis de son histoire, il convient de rappeler les enjeux qui marquent les trois années de publication du Woman Worker. Quand sort le premier numéro en juillet 1926, le communisme prône encore une politique de front commun, c’est-à-dire de collaboration avec les autres partis de gauche et d’infiltration dans les organisations telles que le Parti ouvrier ou les syndicats internationaux du Congrès du Travail du Canada. Au dernier numéro de la revue, en avril 1929, le communisme est entré dans sa Troisième Période d’intransigeance et de non-collaboration avec la gauche social-démocrate.

      Les Ligues, qui tentent de conserver une certaine autonomie par rapport aux instances qui les dirigent, demeurent ouvertes aux autres organisations qui défendent les droits des travailleuses, ce qui leur vaudra de nombreuses critiques de la part de leurs supérieurs. Le travail du PCC auprès des femmes a fait l’objet de critiques et de suggestions du Bureau féminin de la Troisième Internationale comme de l’Exécutif du PCC qui reprochent aux Ligues féminines leur lenteur à se mettre à la page et à embrasser la ligne de plus en plus stalinienne de la Troisième Internationale. Leur orientation est jugée trop réformiste, on se plaint du petit nombre d’´ Anglo-Saxonnes ªparmi leurs membres, on leur demande plus de militantisme et on les accuse de négliger la lutte politique. En 1928, la mise au pas vient de haut quand une lettre du comité d’organisation de l’Exécutif du Comintern déclare : ´ les Ligues féminines ouvrières doivent être guidées par les fractions du parti sous le contrôle des organes du parti et, en temps de luttes ouvrières, elles doivent prendre une part plus active dans l’organisation syndicale [communiste] des travailleuses.... La propagande des LFO doit accentuer son caractère de classe, et les erreurs impossibles récemment commises par le Woman Worker {en février 1929} doivent être éliminées par un strict contrôle du parti sur le leadership du mouvement des femmes ª. Un encadrement aussi serré laissait peu de marge de manoeuvre et il ne faut pas l’oublier en lisant les textes.

      Comme nul n’est à l’abri de la rectitude soviétique, en mars 1930, quand se durcit la ligne communiste, Custance elle-même, la seule femme présente à la fondation du PCC en 1919, tombe en disgrâce et fait l’objet d’une condamnation posthume pour déviation de droite.

      Une publication obscure pour les non-spécialistes en histoire du communisme, The Woman Worker aborde des sujets qui dépassent les questions de parti pour s’ouvrir sur les multiples défis qui confrontaient les femmes de la classe ouvrière. Mise sur pied par Custance, la revue s’adresse tant aux ouvrières qu’aux parentes d’ouvriers. Des éditoriaux, chroniques et lettres de lectrices, Hobbs et Sangster dégagent neuf thèmes : le travail salarié et le mouvement ouvrier, les lois protectrices, le féminisme et les réformes sociales, la guerre et la paix, le travail sexuel, le mariage, la famille et le travail domestique, le contrôle des naissances et l’avortement, la solidarité nationale et internationale et les activités des ligues locales.

      Les chroniques du Woman Worker révèlent une ouverture sur le monde rare dans les revues féminines de l’époque. La solidarité internationale revient dans plusieurs textes soit lors de la Journée internationale des femmes le 8 mars, soit lors de la grève des mineurs de Grande-Bretagne en 1926. L’URSS est représentée comme une terre d’espoir aux lectrices pour qui ´ le paradis des travailleurs et des travailleuses ª n’est pas un cliché : l’égalité des sexes y est officiellement reconnue, les lois du mariage et du divorcee et l’égalité salariale suscitent l’envi, la contraception et l’avortement sont légalisés. Partout, quelle que soit la question traitée dans la revue, la perspective de classe l’emporte sur celle de genre. Les femmes communistes qui défendaient les droits  des femmes et dénonçaient les injustices et la discrimination, se gardaient bien de l’étiquette féministe réservée aux bourgeoises du Conseil canadien des femmes.

      Cet ouvrage n’est pas une édition critique à proprement parler. Ce n’est pas le but des deux historiennes de rectifier les affirmations que le passage des années et l’ouverture des archives nous ont appris à nuancer. Elles font cependant précéder chaque section d’une introduction qui établit le contexte tant canadien que communiste des documents présentés. Ainsi, par exemple, le chapitre sur la paix et la guerre met en relief l’importance du pacifisme chez les féministes avant et après la guerre de 1914-1918, les liens et les tensions entre le pacifisme des féministes comme Nellie McClung et Agnes Macphail et celui des femmes communistes. Apparaissent ainsi les différences fondamentales entre le pacifisme essentialiste ou culturel des féministes comme Alice Chown et le pacifisme de classe des communistes qui dénonce l’impérialisme et admet la violence de la lutte des classes.

      L’introduction au chapitre sur la prostitution énonce la position des femmes communistes et la compare à celle des réformatrices préoccupées par l’étendue du travail sexuel et surtout de la ´ traite des blanches ª tant redoutée pendant les deux premières décennies du siècle.

      Chaque introduction est suivie d’une courte bibliographie qui se limite exclusivement aux ouvrages en anglais, même si six textes traitent du Québec qui comptaient aussi ses Ligues féminines.

      S’il faut faire confiance aux lectrices pour le choix d’articles représentatifs, on aimerait toutefois connaître le rayonnement de Woman Worker qu’un document dans les archives du Comintern situe à 1500. Il serait aussi pertinent de savoir qu’une proportion du corpus total est reproduit dans ce volume.

      Pour les femmes de la classe ouvrière, Woman Worker a, pendant quelques années, servi d’outil d’analyse et d’inspiration dans la lutte des classes. Pour les étudiantes et étudiants d’aujourd’hui, la revue aide à mieux comprendre un pan d’histoire trop souvent occulté des luttes ouvrières et féministes — même si les protagonistes renieraient l’épithète.

Sylvia Bashevkin, Women on the Defensive (Toronto: University of Toronto Press 1998)

MUCH HAS BEEN WRITTEN on the second wave of feminism, but Bashevkin offers a fresh perspective on the fate of the feminist movement following the successes of the 1960s and 1970s. Her comparative study of the British, American, and Canadian movements under the "neo-conservative" regimes of Margaret Thatcher/John Major, Ronald Reagan/ George Bush, and Brian Mulroney builds upon and extends the work of Susan Faludi who wrote Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women in 1991. Bashevkin’s analysis of the treatment of feminist issues in these three countries reveals that while women’s groups in the United States faced a more active opposition than those in Britain and Canada, the philosophies of neo-conservatism were inherently damaging to all of their goals. The politics of reduced government, spending cuts, deregulation, tax restraint, and individualism clashed with the level of state intervention and regulation needed if the goals of the women’s movement were to be achieved and preserved. This conflict between philosophies is the foundation of Bashevkin’s argument.

      Tracing the ideals and methods of the feminist movement back to the activism of the 19th century, the author notes in Chapter One that the strength of women has been found in collective action. Only by pooling their resources and individual strengths could women’s goals be accomplished. Governments were seen as the potential source of social good for women as it was believed that only the state could impose and enforce a female agenda. This belief in the need for the government to play a positive role in equalizing society carried through into the activities of second wave feminism and campaigns were directed at influencing the state to exercise this available power to generate socially beneficial policies. Bashevkin notes that the collective pressure increased state intervention in terms of access to education, equality in the workplace, protection from violence, and financial survival upon divorce.

      However, such intervention was antithetical to the neo-conservative philosophy and as shown in Chapter Two, Thatcher’s policy decisions to privatize public enterprises, cut welfare entitlements, and reduce the power and influence of trade unions had indirect but major effects. Women lost secure reasonably paid positions with the government and tended to be the group most affected by changes in social entitlements. With the loss of trade union power, the power base for those opposed to neo-conservative policies was weakened. The situation was different in Canada as neo-conservatives did not immediately proceed with a policy of severe government cutbacks or employment reductions. Rather, disputes with women’s groups revolved around constitutional issues and free trade, policies that women believed would lead to a loss of equality rights and jobs. The situation in the United States was more extreme. Conservative fiscal policies to reduce government spending, taxes, and intervention were implemented. In addition, the Reagan government supported the effort to impose socially conservative policies that would have major impacts on American women. The Equal Rights Amendment to guarantee constitutional equality was defeated, efforts to eliminate equal opportunity programs from the workplace were made through the courts and numerous laws to limit abortion rights were pursued as the "moral majority" moved to reinstitute the idealized family values of the 1950s.

      In Chapter Three, Bashevkin goes on to discuss the monetary consequences of the ideological battles on women and identifies three effects: the"work crunch," the "spending crunch," and the "advocacy crunch." The author suggests that the work crunch was most prevalent in Britain given policies that eliminated government jobs and weakened union rights, while the spending crunch was dominant in the United States because of cuts to social services. The advocacy crunch was most prominent in Canada when retaliation for feminist opposition to government policy took the form of reductions in funding for women’s advocacy groups. While the first two effects may be seen as the result of pursuing essential neo-conservative principles, the Canadian government’s action represented a direct attack against feminist groups, not a side effect of policy implementation.

      The effects of neo-conservatism are highlighted further in Chapter Four through the narratives of fifteen women involved in various aspects of the women’s movement in their respective countries. These women faced different pressures and fought against a variety of policies that impacted on their personal areas of concern but a common theme emerged in the stories. This theme was the amount of energy that had to be expended to simply preserve and defend existing women’s rights. In other words, through the experiences of these women, it is made clear that feminists were on the defensive and had little time left over to pursue new goals.

      In Chapter Five, Bashevkin keys in on the use of divisive tactics by supporters of neo-conservatism. Rather than remaining passive when groups, such as feminists opposed their policies, neo-conservatives took an aggressive stance, deriding "special interests," and portraying them as self-interested extremists without alternatives. By playing on class, racial, and ethnic divisions within women’s groups, a wedge was driven among those supporting feminist issues. As a result, group cohesiveness was weakened. Highlighting the lives of those women (such as Thatcher herself) who managed to not only survive but succeed without special rights also helped undermine the arguments of those opposed to neo-conservative policies.

      Bashevkin brings her analysis forward to the present in Chapter Six and discusses the changes that occurred as more moderate successors took over the reins in the three countries. She suggests that Blair, Clinton, and Chrétien pursued social policies that were "less harsh and more inclusive," but that fiscal policies remained similar, if not identical to those followed by their predecessors. (200) Therefore, women were more likely to obtain positions of political power under these new regimes but new social benefit programs remained rare and the economic impact of spending cuts continued to hamper feminist goals.

      In Chapter Seven, the author concludes by summarizing the effects of the neo-conservative years. She suggests that women’s movements were attacked, divided, demoralized, and impoverished and that the women involved were left with polarized opinions, a weakened belief in the viability of collective action, and a sense of exhaustion from fighting to preserve what they could. However, the author believes that the experience has provided valuable lessons that will be needed when the next wave of feminist activism begins. Flexible tactics will be required, greater attention will have to be paid to public opinion to avoid the appearance of radicalism, and internal divisions will have to be healed.

      Overall, this book represents an important contribution to feminist studies. The comparative analysis is intriguing, and Bashevkin’s compilation of legislative and judicial activity that occurred throughout the study time frame points out factors deserving of greater study in each nation. (Appendix A) The discussion of the historical progression of the conflict between neo-conservatism and feminism is insightful but perhaps a bit excessive in terms of reviewing philosophical ideals and policy outcomes separatively rather than as a whole. Otherwise, Bashevkin presents a well thought out and interesting view of the trials faced by feminists.

Jacques Rouillard et Henri Goulet, Solidarité et détermination. Histoire de la Fraternité des policiers et des policières de la Communauté urbaine de Montréal (Montréal, Boréal 1999)

PUBLIÉ À L’OCCASION du 50e anniversaire de fondation de la Fraternité des policiers et des policières de la Communauté urbaine de Montréal (FPPCUM), Solidarité et détermination retrace l’histoire de ce syndicat dont l’origine remonte à 1918. Bien que l’ouvrage ait été commandé par la Fraternité, les auteurs soulignent, d’entrée de jeu, qu’ils n’ont pas rédigé une histoire officielle. Ils précisent aussi qu’ils ont pu écrire leur livre en toute liberté. L’ouvrage n’en décrit pas moins l’histoire de la FPPCUM avec grande empathie. Pour l’essentiel, il soulève le dilemme auquel la Fraternité est confrontée depuis sa naissance, tout comme d’autres syndicats de policiers sans doute : comment parvenir à concilier le devoir de maintien de l’ordre auquel sont astreints les policiers avec la mission première du syndicat qui consiste à travailler à l’amélioration des conditions de travail de ceux-ci?

      Cette histoire de la FPPCUM repose sur un travail de recherche imposant et minutieux, effectué dans les archives du syndicat et celles de l’administration municipale de Montréal ainsi que dans les journaux. Les informations recueillies ont été organisées de manière chronologique et regroupées à l’intérieur de cinq grandes périodes correspondant aux différentes phases de développement du syndicat. Les cinq chapitres du livre traitent chacun d’une de ces périodes. Le premier, couvrant les années 1918 à 1950, relate les débuts difficiles du syndicat jusqu’à la reconnaissance du droit à la négociation collective. Les années 1950 à 1965, étudiées dans le deuxième chapitre, corres-pondent à une période où l’activité de la Fraternité est dirigée vers la fourniture de services à ses membres. Au cours des dix ans suivants (chapitre 3), cependant, la FPPCUM se radicalise, recourant notamment à la grève même si cela lui est formellement interdit par le gouvernement provincial. Le militantisme de la Fraternité demeure vigoureux entre 1975 et 1988 bien que cette décennie, traitée dans le chapitre 4, soit marquée par une décroissance des services de la police, désormais intégrés dans la Communauté urbaine de Montréal. Intitulé ´ Une forteresse assiégée ª, le dernier chapitre démontre comment, au cours de la période 1988-1998, le syndicat a travaillé à maintenir son dynamisme malgré les nombreuses critiques de l’opinion publique à l’égard des policiers. Chacun de ces chapitres est sensiblement organisé de la même façon : on y traite de la vie interne du syndicat, des relations avec les autres associations syndicales, de la conjoncture affectant les policiers, des négociations de leurs conditions de travail et des résultats de celles-ci.

      Comment donc résumer l’évolution du syndicalisme chez les policiers au cours de ces cinquante ans? Un premier constat s’impose : ceux-ci ont eu beaucoup de difficulté à obtenir le droit de se syndiquer étant donné la spécificité de leur fonction. Farouchement opposées à l’idée, les autorités municipales estimaient que le syndicalisme risquait d’affaiblir la discipline dans les rangs des policiers, d’abord considérés comme des ´ serviteurs du public ª et des ´ protecteurs de leurs biens et de la moralité ª. (p.54) Il n’empêche que ceux-ci ont définitivement obtenu gain de cause au début des années 1940, dans un contexte par ailleurs très favorable aux travailleurs. La situation particulière des policiers les a cependant empêchés de pouvoir s’affilier à une centrale syndicale et la Fraternité a donc dû faire cavalier seul. Les autorités craignaient dans ce cas que les policiers se fassent dicter leur ligne de conduite par des intervenants extérieurs à l’administration municipale et aillent ainsi à l’encontre de ses intérêts. On s’inquiétait aussi que l’affiliation influence le travail des policiers et les conduise à prendre parti pour les grévistes appartenant à la même fédération qu’eux, plutôt qu’à assurer l’ordre public. Bref, puisqu’ils n’ont pu faire front commun avec d’autres syndicats ou centrales syndicales, les policiers ont eu tendance à se replier sur leurs propres intérêts.

      Autre caractéristique marquante de l’histoire de la FPPCUM, les policiers ne disposent pas du droit de grève et ce, sensiblement pour les mêmes raisons que celles énumérées au paragraphe précédent. Par conséquent, ceux-ci ne peuvent négocier leurs conditions de travail qu’au moyen de l’arbitrage obligatoire. Cette procédure force les deux parties à s’entendre sur la fixation des conditions de travail des policiers et, à terme, sur leur renouvellement. En cas d’impasse, elles doivent avoir recours à un tribunal d’arbitrage. Si cette façon de procéder prive effectivement les policiers du droit de grève et allonge la durée des négociations au moment de renouveler les conventions collectives, elle va tout de même leur permettre de faire des gains considérables tant au niveau du salaire que des conditions de travail. Certes, durant les décennies 1960 et 1970, marquées par de nombreuses grèves, les policiers vont se sentir lésés. Mais à partir des années 1980, alors que le recours à la grève diminue considérablement et est de plus en plus mal perçu par la population, ils vont mesurer la position extrêmement avantageuse dans laquelle ils se retrouvent. De fait, sans faire la grève et sans perdre leur salaire, ils sont toujours assurés de pouvoir négocier leurs conditions de travail puisque la procédure d’arbitrage exige des deux parties, syndicale et patronale, d’en venir à une entente. À terme, l’arbitrage va donc représenter une protection significative pour les policiers qui, contrairement aux autres catégories de travailleurs, vont voir leurs conditions de travail s’améliorer constamment. À preuve, depuis 1950 l’écart entre le salaire annuel moyen des policiers et celui de la main-d’œuvre montréalaise n’a pratiquement pas cessé de s’accroître en faveur des premiers (voir tableaux présentés aux pages 128, 252, 305).

      Pour cette raison mais aussi à cause des pouvoirs qu’ils détiennent de par leur fonction, les policiers jouissent, depuis les années quarante, d’un rapport de force face à leur employeur qui leur est grandement favorable. Bien que les auteurs de Solidarité et détermination le reconnaissent dans de rares passages du livre, ils ont tendance à sur-valo