Contrary to our perception of the centrality of the churches in English life in the nineteenth century, the disappointing results of the 1851 Religious Census led religious leaders to seek a variety of ways to increase religious allegiance as the century progressed. The apparent apathy and lack of interest in formal religion on the part of the working classes was particularly galling, and the various denominations tried hard to attract them through evangelical missions as well as social and charitable ventures which sometimes competed with religious concerns, to the latter’s detriment. This book traces the motivations, concerns and efforts of the churches, particularly in the period between 1870 and 1920, and the ambivalent responses of ordinary people. The Education Act of 1870 led to the churches losing their hold on the education of the young, a consequence foreseen by many church leaders, but unable to be prevented. By 1920 it was apparent that the churches’ optimism regarding an increased role with a war-weary population would not be fulfilled. The focus is on the city of Leeds, representative of the industrialised urban areas with burgeoning populations which proved to be such a challenge to the churches, at the same time stimulating them to ever-greater efforts.

First published in 2006. A listener to sermons, and even a reader of respectable history books, could easily think that during the nineteenth century the habit of attending religious worship was normal among the English working classes.

Changing social and cultural strategies pursued by Protestant and Catholic religious institutions have shaped the social order in Quebec and English Canada. Through a sustained comparison of Protestantism and Catholicism, this volume explores the transition from pre-industrial to industrial society and challenges conventional chronologies of religious change.

British Columbia is at the forefront of a secularizing movement in the English-speaking world. Nearly half its residents claim no religious affiliation, and the province has the highest rate of unbelief or religious indifference in Canada. Infidels and the Damn Churches explores the historical roots of this phenomenon from the 1880s to the First World War. Lynne Marks reveals that class and racial tensions fuelled irreligion in a world populated by embattled ministers, militant atheists, turn-of-the-century New Agers, rough-living miners, Asian immigrants, and church-going settler women. White, working-class men often arrived in the province alone and identified the church with their exploitative employers. At the same time, BC’s anti-Asian and anti-Indigenous racism meant that their “whiteness” alone could define them as respectable, without the need for church affiliation. Consequently, although Christianity retained major social power elsewhere, many people in BC found the freedom to forgo church attendance or espouse atheist views. This nuanced study of mobility, gender, masculinity, and family in settler BC offers new insights into BC’s distinctive culture and into the beginnings of what has become an increasingly dominant secular worldview across Canada.

Did the Labour Party, in Morgan Phillips' famous phrase, owe 'more to Methodism than Marx'? Were the founding fathers of the party nurtured in the chapels of Nonconformity and shaped by their emphases on liberty, conscience and the value of every human being in the eyes of God? How did the Free Churches, traditionally allied to the Liberal Party, react to the growing importance of the Labour Party between the wars? This book addresses these questions at a range of levels: including organisation; rhetoric; policies and ideals; and electoral politics. It is shown that the distinctive religious setting in which Labour emerged indeed helps to explain the differences between it and more Marxist counterparts on the Continent, and that this setting continued to influence Labour approaches towards welfare, nationalisation and industrial relations between the wars. In the process Labour also adopted some of the righteousness of tone of the Free Churches. This setting was, however, changing. Dropping their traditional suspicion of the State, Nonconformists instead increasingly invested it with religious values, helping to turn it through its growing welfare functions into the provider of practical Christianity. This nationalisation of religion continues to shape British attitudes to the welfare state as well as imposing narrowly utilitarian and material tests of relevance upon the churches and other social institutions. The elevation of the State was not, however, intended as an end in itself. What mattered were the social and individual outcomes. Socialism, for those Free Churchmen and women who helped to shape Labour in the early twentieth century, was about improving society as much as systems.