After a longer than planned delay, here's part II:
When I was a history undergraduate in Britain I would often get quizzed by family friends and acquaintance about whether there was a point to studying history, and although I can’t say I’ve never had that question here it is certainly less common. History has a purpose here – it has work to do. That’s why high school students take a comprehensive “survey” rather than my British experience of studying small case-study units on 1920s America or Nazi Germany. History tells Americans something about who they are and why they are bound together as a nation – a nation based on ideas and not on territory or ethnicity. If you are a nation based on an idea then the construction of that idea through history has to make sense, it has to be linear and things have to have a sense of coherence that isn’t otherwise necessary or possible. Thus, as much as it frustrates me, Colonial Williamsburg isn’t just a portrayal of the town three hundred years ago, but an engaged narrative about the ideas of the nation – a narrative that admits problems and flaws in the initial idea (slavery) – but a narrative nonetheless. Bruton Parish, then, doesn’t just have history, it has historical narrative, because amongst the people who sat in its pews (as they’ll be glad to tell you) were George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. No doubt some important London worthies of the 17th and 18th centuries attended St.Helen’s Bishopsgate, but they aren’t essential to helping British people understand their daily lives. History is part of peoples’ lives in Britain – the Blitz spirit, the Industrial Revolution, the English Reformation – but it doesn’t fit into a narrative and people don’t need it to. It is enough to have a vague sense that all these things went in to making Britain in a patchwork way. It is enough that they happened on that island, in that place. Post-colonialism and post-war decline has (perhaps) taught Britain that history is not a narrative of success and honour, but also that failures like imperialism, racism, class exploitation aren’t supposed to refine and improve us in an onward journey (as Southern slavery is called upon to do), but simply to chasten and content us with our sceptered isle. I think British identity, for all the castles and stately homes, is fundamentally about place, and that is why on my final descent into London I always find myself repeating the line of the famous English song “Jersualem” – the appeal is “England’s green and pleasant land” and the historic context just helps to you remember those who have enjoyed it before (however rotten they may have been).
But, of course, this is not to say that America’s relationship with the past is bad or that Britain’s is somehow mature and considered. The inverse may in fact be true. Because an identity based upon ethnicity and place in a twenty-first century world of mass-migration, where thousands of new immigrants arrive in Britain each year, British identity has become immensely confused. There are many Britons who don’t relate to the vague and confusing mass of historical and topographical connections on which identity rests. New standards, new citizenship tests, new popular culture offerings, consistently attempt to define and redefine the maxims and there is a genuine fear that (despite what Americans might think about fish and chips, poor dentistry, and all things Jane Austen) Britain might be losing its identity. Despite the supposed “Culture Wars” that presidential election season supposedly generates, left and right can still agree to the basic narrative of Colonial Williamsburg or Ellis Island even if they disagree about the details. American identity may be in debate, but it is certainly not in doubt.
So to answer the lady at the dentist: there really isn’t any more history here than elsewhere – it is just being put to better use and I haven’t decided yet if that makes it harder to study.
21.9.08
living with history on both sides of the Atlantic - Part 1 of 2
I’ve successfully held off composing another entry until the weekend, thereby preserving lots of time this week to find less meaningful ways to avoid work. But when I was actually buried in a book it did give me an idea for an entry.
The book I was reading was the inspiringly entitled “Literary and Cultural Spaces of Restoration London” – I know what you’re thinking – I promise I’ll tell you all about it next time I see you, just ask! But reading about the streets and alleyways of London rebuilt after the great fire in 1666 actually made me surprisingly homesick. Meg can tell you that there are few things I enjoy more in London than walking around the “City” (the financial district between St. Paul’s and the Tower). I began thinking about you the people who you pass as you walk along those streets and their relationship to the history that surrounds them, and to drive this home even more I had just been the dentists, where the hygienist quizzed me on my occupation and then responded with the almost inevitable line: “Well you are certainly in the right place to study history!” But is Williamsburg the “right” place to study history – even colonial American history – wouldn’t the street corner between the Bank of England and the Royal Exchange be a better spot and why doesn’t it see itself like that?
It shouldn’t be surprising really that I decide to start this series with a rumination on history and trans-Atlantic relationships with it. Many people make observations to me about this – from the aforesaid lady at the dental office, to the British people who tell me that I can’t be studying American history because America doesn’t have a history. But the question doesn’t cut so easily between Britain being skeptical of American heritage that “yanks” hold so dear – my mother, for example, is convinced (perhaps from over-exposure admittedly) that Americans do a much better job of portraying and understanding their past.
Personally I think the answer lies somewhere in the midst of all this and goes back to the role (rather than the importance) that history plays within a particular culture. It is a horrible cliché to say that in Britain history is somehow “all around you” because archaeologists would certainly argue that the same is true here in Virginia – and almost anyone would agree about Williamsburg. Wherever you go (or at least wherever I’ve been) in America you are surrounded by historical buildings and houses, and often historic interpreters to assist you in realizing it – Edenton, NC., New Madrid, MO, Indepence Rock, WY. (of “Oregon Trail” fame). The fact remains, however, that I was most struck in my reading about restoration London when the author talked about a sermon preached in the wake of the great fire at St. Helen’s Bishopgate church, the very Anglican church that my parents now attend when in London, crowded in on all sides by skyscrapers and over-priced sandwich shops. There are obviously more old buildings in England, a longer record of written history, but familiarity cannot fully explain how British people live with the past in such a matter-of-fact way. What distinguishes St.Helen’s Bishopsgate from Bruton Parish Church in Williamsburg is not age, aesthetic merit, or some subjective measure of historical importance, but the fact that one has a narrative and the other does not. Bruton Parish Church has a historical purpose and St.Helen’s just has a history.
To be continued....
The book I was reading was the inspiringly entitled “Literary and Cultural Spaces of Restoration London” – I know what you’re thinking – I promise I’ll tell you all about it next time I see you, just ask! But reading about the streets and alleyways of London rebuilt after the great fire in 1666 actually made me surprisingly homesick. Meg can tell you that there are few things I enjoy more in London than walking around the “City” (the financial district between St. Paul’s and the Tower). I began thinking about you the people who you pass as you walk along those streets and their relationship to the history that surrounds them, and to drive this home even more I had just been the dentists, where the hygienist quizzed me on my occupation and then responded with the almost inevitable line: “Well you are certainly in the right place to study history!” But is Williamsburg the “right” place to study history – even colonial American history – wouldn’t the street corner between the Bank of England and the Royal Exchange be a better spot and why doesn’t it see itself like that?
It shouldn’t be surprising really that I decide to start this series with a rumination on history and trans-Atlantic relationships with it. Many people make observations to me about this – from the aforesaid lady at the dental office, to the British people who tell me that I can’t be studying American history because America doesn’t have a history. But the question doesn’t cut so easily between Britain being skeptical of American heritage that “yanks” hold so dear – my mother, for example, is convinced (perhaps from over-exposure admittedly) that Americans do a much better job of portraying and understanding their past.
Personally I think the answer lies somewhere in the midst of all this and goes back to the role (rather than the importance) that history plays within a particular culture. It is a horrible cliché to say that in Britain history is somehow “all around you” because archaeologists would certainly argue that the same is true here in Virginia – and almost anyone would agree about Williamsburg. Wherever you go (or at least wherever I’ve been) in America you are surrounded by historical buildings and houses, and often historic interpreters to assist you in realizing it – Edenton, NC., New Madrid, MO, Indepence Rock, WY. (of “Oregon Trail” fame). The fact remains, however, that I was most struck in my reading about restoration London when the author talked about a sermon preached in the wake of the great fire at St. Helen’s Bishopgate church, the very Anglican church that my parents now attend when in London, crowded in on all sides by skyscrapers and over-priced sandwich shops. There are obviously more old buildings in England, a longer record of written history, but familiarity cannot fully explain how British people live with the past in such a matter-of-fact way. What distinguishes St.Helen’s Bishopsgate from Bruton Parish Church in Williamsburg is not age, aesthetic merit, or some subjective measure of historical importance, but the fact that one has a narrative and the other does not. Bruton Parish Church has a historical purpose and St.Helen’s just has a history.
To be continued....
16.9.08
My idea...
I can't say I ever envisioned myself composing a blog, but graduate student life being what it is, I have a lot of time I need to kill avoiding work.
In all seriousness, this blog may not get updated that often as the demands of the dissertation fall heavier upon me, but I was inspired into action in the past few weeks by some long standing issues and a couple of events.
I am horribly addicted to political coverage. I have been a political person from the point that I ran in a school mock-election at the age of 9, and there are many old ladies from my parents' church back in Wales who remember my actively political youth and are still convinced that I will still become Prime Minister some day. Anyway, the point is that I've become engrossed by presidential politics - from a decidedly partisan angle I will admit. This little obsession of mine constantly highlights to me the distinctions between British and American life and it also tends to illicit countless heated discussions with my intelligent and sagacious wife that go something like this recent conversation:
Paul: "Why are they building yet more banks along Monticello Avenue. I mean, what are they going to do when they eventually come to their senses and merge all these Bank of Podunk entities into a few normal banks? There'll be a mass of derelict buildings!"
Meg: "Why do you assume that they want to merge them all together?"
Paul: "Well, it is just obvious... I mean why do I want to pay ATM fees when I drive more than 20 miles from my house, and big banks make everything so much more convenient in Britain..."
Meg: "Perhaps people like personal service, they are worried about big faceless banks, and besides, they are addressing ATM problems by slowly reducing fees."
Paul: "Yeah, but a few big banks is just the obvious way forward." (You can see I abandoned logic right here!)
Meg: "Why do you assume that everything should or will end up looking like it does in Britain?"
You can see what scintillating conversations Meg and I have on our average car journey! But the bigger point is that after more than 4 years of living in Virginia, a loyalty the Maryland Terrapins, The Orioles and the Baltimore Ravens, a taste for biscuits and barbecue, and even a tendency to say "its all good" occasionally, I am still ultimately a British Ex-pat. I still get the unnerving feeling occasionally that things are going on around me that I can neither appreciate nor fully understand, and I still constantly bombard my innocent wife with an endless stream of "but why...?" questions, rather like an excruciatingly annoying five year old.
But all this doesn't explain why I have decided to inflict these dubious ruminations upon the world in the form of an occasional blog. The root of that is two fold. Firstly, I was inspired by picking up a Bill Bryson book after a long hiatus of contact with his work. For those who don't know Bryson, he's an American journalist who lived in the UK for many years and wrote travel books about America, Europe, and a few other places, with a devious wit and insight that I've never found elsewhere. Anyway, in his more recent book "I'm a Stranger Here Myself" he compiles articles he wrote for a British newspaper after moving back to New Hampshire in the mid-nineties. This is a wonderful book and I'd recommend it to everyone as far more enlightening than anything I might have to say.
However, Bryson's thoughtful and comic portrayal of his transition back into American life - focusing on the little details of everyday existence - was thrown into sharp contrast for me this week by an article I found on the website of the London Times. It was responding to a storm in a teacup controversy created by British comedian Russel Brand made unpleasant comments about George Bush and the Jonas Brothers, and was roundly condemned by the American conservative world for doing so. This article stood up to defend Brand and his admittedly patronising style of comedy and to debate the differences between American and British life. The author, India Knight, asserted that Britain and America have "so much common ground and yet such oceans between us."
The problem was that Ms. Knight was helplessly, perhaps unconsciously, drowning in that very ocean. Her understanding of America, and I fear many Britains' understanding, was that there is New York and California and then some other bit in the middle. Meg was obviously most enraged by India Knight, and for once I was actually kinda hot under the collar myself, especially when I thought back and compared her writing to Bill Bryson.
So, all of this is by way of a long introduction to say that I intend to wade courageously into that deep pond that separates Britain and America, and to try to use personal experiences and personal perspectives to nuance these distinctions; and perhaps even to entertain anyone and everyone who cares to read my ramblings about cultural differences and being self-consciously British in America.
Of course my caveats here are:
I am a Christian, and although that won't make me unable to comment on differences between Christian cultures on both sides of the Atlantic, it will make me somewhat bias - I happen to believe that a culture in which most people attend church (however rotely), seek God, and attempt to maintain at least a veil of public morality, is a better way to live.
I am married to an America and a guest in a foreign country - basically I'll try to stay away from overt criticism of American life.
I am an old fashioned Social Democrat (One of my first observations can be that I hate the American catch-all "Liberal" - please ask me why some time!), decidedly left-of-centre on the American scale, and fighting in my free time for the Obama campaign, so don't expect political neutrality from me - it's more than I could humanely manage.
I hope I can offer something interesting, or at very least that some people might read what I write out of a sense of friendly obligation - Meg says she will, but I'm not chalking up one reader quite yet!
In all seriousness, this blog may not get updated that often as the demands of the dissertation fall heavier upon me, but I was inspired into action in the past few weeks by some long standing issues and a couple of events.
I am horribly addicted to political coverage. I have been a political person from the point that I ran in a school mock-election at the age of 9, and there are many old ladies from my parents' church back in Wales who remember my actively political youth and are still convinced that I will still become Prime Minister some day. Anyway, the point is that I've become engrossed by presidential politics - from a decidedly partisan angle I will admit. This little obsession of mine constantly highlights to me the distinctions between British and American life and it also tends to illicit countless heated discussions with my intelligent and sagacious wife that go something like this recent conversation:
Paul: "Why are they building yet more banks along Monticello Avenue. I mean, what are they going to do when they eventually come to their senses and merge all these Bank of Podunk entities into a few normal banks? There'll be a mass of derelict buildings!"
Meg: "Why do you assume that they want to merge them all together?"
Paul: "Well, it is just obvious... I mean why do I want to pay ATM fees when I drive more than 20 miles from my house, and big banks make everything so much more convenient in Britain..."
Meg: "Perhaps people like personal service, they are worried about big faceless banks, and besides, they are addressing ATM problems by slowly reducing fees."
Paul: "Yeah, but a few big banks is just the obvious way forward." (You can see I abandoned logic right here!)
Meg: "Why do you assume that everything should or will end up looking like it does in Britain?"
You can see what scintillating conversations Meg and I have on our average car journey! But the bigger point is that after more than 4 years of living in Virginia, a loyalty the Maryland Terrapins, The Orioles and the Baltimore Ravens, a taste for biscuits and barbecue, and even a tendency to say "its all good" occasionally, I am still ultimately a British Ex-pat. I still get the unnerving feeling occasionally that things are going on around me that I can neither appreciate nor fully understand, and I still constantly bombard my innocent wife with an endless stream of "but why...?" questions, rather like an excruciatingly annoying five year old.
But all this doesn't explain why I have decided to inflict these dubious ruminations upon the world in the form of an occasional blog. The root of that is two fold. Firstly, I was inspired by picking up a Bill Bryson book after a long hiatus of contact with his work. For those who don't know Bryson, he's an American journalist who lived in the UK for many years and wrote travel books about America, Europe, and a few other places, with a devious wit and insight that I've never found elsewhere. Anyway, in his more recent book "I'm a Stranger Here Myself" he compiles articles he wrote for a British newspaper after moving back to New Hampshire in the mid-nineties. This is a wonderful book and I'd recommend it to everyone as far more enlightening than anything I might have to say.
However, Bryson's thoughtful and comic portrayal of his transition back into American life - focusing on the little details of everyday existence - was thrown into sharp contrast for me this week by an article I found on the website of the London Times. It was responding to a storm in a teacup controversy created by British comedian Russel Brand made unpleasant comments about George Bush and the Jonas Brothers, and was roundly condemned by the American conservative world for doing so. This article stood up to defend Brand and his admittedly patronising style of comedy and to debate the differences between American and British life. The author, India Knight, asserted that Britain and America have "so much common ground and yet such oceans between us."
The problem was that Ms. Knight was helplessly, perhaps unconsciously, drowning in that very ocean. Her understanding of America, and I fear many Britains' understanding, was that there is New York and California and then some other bit in the middle. Meg was obviously most enraged by India Knight, and for once I was actually kinda hot under the collar myself, especially when I thought back and compared her writing to Bill Bryson.
So, all of this is by way of a long introduction to say that I intend to wade courageously into that deep pond that separates Britain and America, and to try to use personal experiences and personal perspectives to nuance these distinctions; and perhaps even to entertain anyone and everyone who cares to read my ramblings about cultural differences and being self-consciously British in America.
Of course my caveats here are:
I am a Christian, and although that won't make me unable to comment on differences between Christian cultures on both sides of the Atlantic, it will make me somewhat bias - I happen to believe that a culture in which most people attend church (however rotely), seek God, and attempt to maintain at least a veil of public morality, is a better way to live.
I am married to an America and a guest in a foreign country - basically I'll try to stay away from overt criticism of American life.
I am an old fashioned Social Democrat (One of my first observations can be that I hate the American catch-all "Liberal" - please ask me why some time!), decidedly left-of-centre on the American scale, and fighting in my free time for the Obama campaign, so don't expect political neutrality from me - it's more than I could humanely manage.
I hope I can offer something interesting, or at very least that some people might read what I write out of a sense of friendly obligation - Meg says she will, but I'm not chalking up one reader quite yet!
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