MO3351 Doing and Practicing Transnational and Global History

Today was spent on an archival research road-trip to Edinburgh, which gave me plenty of time to think on the bus about what ‘hands-on’ means to me in the context of this transnational course, as well as in my larger pursuit and philosophy of history. Essentially, thinking about how historians handle and engage with their sources both literally and emotionally, and what effect this has in our writing.

My first reflection concerns how direct our interactions with primary sources are, in terms of ‘us’ as historians personally handling the documents or materials we analyze. Two years ago a French PhD friend of mine, Edern, complained bitterly to me about having to write his dissertation using only microfilmed sources; he kept repeating to me, “historians work with paper!”. At the time I didn’t understand, since the topic he’d chosen seemed highly engaging, he was clearly excited about it, and he had easy and access to the ample materials he needed while living in Paris. But for Edern, the thrill of the exhaustive historical treasure hunt came from touching the documents that real human beings he was studying had handled over three centuries ago, seeing where long-dead individuals had filled in legal claims, inventories, and other similar paperwork. This could be both dense and dry over weeks of study, but in the micro a particularly telling document, included note, or even marginalia made it worthwhile. On the microfilm register however, the information was there, but it was stale, frustratingly illuminated in negative. Similarly, while a lot of my (and probably your) research and reading comes via digitized museum collections, journal articles, and online books, today I found myself actually touching the genuine water-colored studies and paintings done by the Scottish painter David Allan (1744-1796) at the National Gallery of Scotland’s Prints and Drawings study room. Instead of copying and pasting defining appropriate search terms for hours, while distracted by petty routine, the material was faster to assess in person, I could ask questions directly to the attendants, the items themselves were thrilling to handle, and 6 images I found in particular from Allan’s Italian tour (1764-1777) may prove pertinent to my eventual argument! This same issue of direct contact and access is even more pressing for material sources (original artifacts), where the online images, if any, are rarely detailed enough for any serious study (larger institutions with high-resolution scans like the Rijksmueum, Museum of the American Revolution, or Metropolitan being exceptions to this rule). Obviously, being able to travel to one’s evidence is a luxury (particularly given the breadth of transnational study), and sometimes it’s far faster and simpler to work from a laptop, but I think there is certainly something lost in the process of research when it is limited to one sense only, sight, which happens only electronically. At the risk of nostalgia, I firmly believe this gap would be expressed in analytical writing on the materials later on, making it as one-dimensional as the research process itself.

My second though concerns how we engage emotionally, physically and personally with our topics. In my mind, a solid foundation of sources is not enough if you lack the empathy and perspective needed to connect yourself with your own analysis. As an example, I’d use an American friend who was finishing a costume studies degree under a woman believed to be ‘the expert’ on early modern women’s undergarments. Yet, though she had made it her life’s work, this woman had never actually taken the time or effort to wear the garments she had spent so long researching, and it made her unable to empathize with the reasons why women chose to wear these garments, or the practical function of them in use. Another example would be a show run in 2005 on BBC 2, ‘Tales from the Green Valley’, wherein  four historical specialists recreated daily  rural life on 1620s farm in Wales. Archaeologists were now building period structures, agricultural historians were plowing fields with heritage-breed oxen, cultural historians were doing laundry with traditional techniques, and all were immersed in this for nearly a full calendar year. In essence, historians with decades of experience in studying their respective topics finally had a chance to engage fully with the material, and to put what they’d read about into actual practice. This divide can also be bridged on more theoretical topics; for instance, studying changing perceptions of time with reference to the actual physicality of clock technology and the speed (or slowness) of pre-industrial travel, or environmental historians working on energy use who experiment with various types of historical fuels.  Clearly one can push this too far, and introduce significant bias, but I firmly believe anyone studying a historical topic should seek, as best they can, to experience it viscerally, to push outside of their comfort zones as an intellectual and experiential exercise.

How does this relate to my project? Clearly the study of clothing is one that is well suited to the material, and even requires it.  But above all, taking the time and effort to come to grips with one’s topic means one gains empathy for it, and with those human beings who did the same in the past. And I believe this is critical to any historical project, transnational or otherwise.

Having received feedback from my proposal I have come to the realisation that there is such a thing as too much beer. My previously planned three-tiered approach is going to either be too large for a 5,000 word essay, or is going to be too thin on details. After some deliberation on how to deal with this, I have decided to now focus on the international legal battle over the name ‘Budweiser’ as this will allow me to still involve the transnational history of the beer, and the agency of Adolphus Busch, but only to the point that it has been relevant to the court cases.

One of the side effects of this alteration is that it will alter the balance of my project into a more even focus between Budvar and Budweiser, which is not a bad thing. Budweiser is the world’s most American beer, in spite of its name, its origins and that its current owners are Belgian. This feels like another aspect to this transnational project that could be looked at. My previous focus on the origins of Budvar beer, and the clash between German and Czech nationalism will be minimised, which I am slightly sad about as writing the short essay on the micro-macro link made me realise that, if done well, this could have been effective. However on the other hand this would have definitely been the most challenging part of my project as I would have had to compress large amounts of information, and also as a result of a lack of sources

This change certainly helps me in terms of sources, as I can look at court records for these cases, and there has also been a bountiful amount of newspaper coverage for some of these cases. Having done some research on Amazon, there also seem to be quite a few books on the history of beer that look like they will be fruitful in their pages on Budweiser. This has also helped me in that the previously troubling language barrier I had with Czech can now, to some extent, be avoided, as the court records I have found thus far are in English.

Overall I am happy with the alterations I’ve made as they make the project feel slightly more manageable. Now I just need to tuck into some court records to get a far better understanding of how the project is going to come together!

One of the biggest challenges I have had with my project is trying to work out the transnational scope. Studying a world map may not originally come across as national history, but looking at who made the map, and the intention of those who commissioned the work tends to focus on the promotion of a country’s agenda. Especially when looking towards colonial maps. So I was planning a more comparative historical project, looking at various colonial maps and to view the links between different empires in how they mapped to promote their own agenda. Originally, I had proposed to explore how the colonial map acted as political propaganda to manipulate the attitudes of society to promote the philosophies of the particular country. But pretty quickly, and with relatively little research, I had come to the conclusion that maps were used as a tool to visually display the extent of empirical conquest and were often distorted to really enhance the agenda of what country’s colonies were shown.

It was slightly unsatisfying to realise that there was no brand new narrative I could take. Thinking that a break away from the project would spark some ideas I turned to read the Week 8 Tutorial reading on Actors and Networks. A sentence from Ulrike Lindner’s Transnational Movements between Colonial Empires,” about how within the context of this particular essay the movement of people between different European colonies would be described as transnational. [680] With this idea in my head, I tackled the Short Essay, focusing on the transnational scope of colonial history, with particular reference to the British Empire. There are so many networks within an empire; there are the obvious trading networks and movement of people but there is also a flow of ideas and ideologies that moves with the people. But what about the networks that expand outwith of the empire? Lindner’s reading showcased how there are often networks between empires themselves.

And so I give you Project Proposal Take II (to be fair, this number is probably a lot higher):

The 1886, Imperial Federation Map has gone on to become the most iconic and most analysed map of the British Empire but when it was released it did not have that much recognition and was overshadowed by the Colonial and Indian Exhibition of 1886. This map, however, has gone on to be symbolic for colonial history, and what, from a British perspective, an imperial map can tell us about the world at the time. But if I was to focus on this single year, and look at world, not from the perspective of a map, a lot more networks of connections become apparent. There are a lot of networks that the map cannot display, and the mapmaker may have chosen not to display. I want to highlight the power of the map but also the weaknesses in what was missed out.

Lindner, Ulrike. “Transnational Movements between Colonial Empires: Migrant Workers from the British Cape Colony in the German Diamond Town of Lüderitzbucht.” European Review of History: Revue Europeenne D’histoire 16, no. 5 (2009): 679–95.

In our class last week we discussed networks, actors, and agency. Networks seem to be an obvious concept and easily discernible in various narratives. Similarly actors seem to be the individuals within networks interacting and engaging in the situations. Agency was a concept I initially had a difficult time grasping. My current understand is agency is the ability for individuals to act freely. Sometimes, this agency is restricted indirectly by other networks or individuals, or even the intentional agency of others.

For my larger project, these roles have become quite pertinent. As I have still not chosen three cities to focus on, I now realize the importance of the choice. While I will probably be ultimately limited by language barriers in choosing my cities, I would ideally like to map the networks, individuals and agency of the European Capitals of Culture. The networks are the cities themselves and the European Union. It is the similarities but also diversity within these networks that make the cities representations of European culture. I would assume that the networks and actors within the confines of each city use their agency to advance the city as a European Capital of Culture. This prompts numerous questions. On the local level, what are local governments looking to achieve during their year as ECC. In comparison, is the agency of the EU tied to political efforts. Why did the EU choose cites that weren’t part of the EU. Are the efforts of both the cities and the EU morally sound for the benefit of the entire community, or do they have an ulterior motives.

While my focus is to map various hubs of European culture, last week’s class last reminded me of the importance of people and their actions. The intricate reasonings and relationships between these networks, both horizontally and vertically across Europe uncovers the similarities of the cities rather than comparing their local culture. History truly seems to be a narrative of connections between actors and networks, making it increasingly vibrant and engaging!

The story of migrants and refugees is a broad topic that consists of innumerable separate, personal stories. Professor Athalya Brenner briefly highlights several issues relating to female migrant workers through an article drawing surprisingly relevant parallels with the story of Ruth the Moabite from the Old Testament – demonstrating that the problem of acceptance and integration of (female) migrant workers was a problem in Israel (and elsewhere) both in biblical and modern times.
The story of Ruth is a tale of a woman who married an Israelite resident in Moab. When her husband died, she decided to travel with her mother-in-law – Naomi – who was returning to Israel. As a non-Jew, Ruth was at the bottom of society and only able to get food for herself and the elderly Naomi by gleaning from the fields during harvest time. The man whose fields she gleaned from eventually married her, and she became part of the family that fathers King David, and also Jesus, several generations later. However, Brenner criticises the romantic portrayal of this story where Ruth is the “heroine”.
The relevance of using Ruth as an example is stressed in some short points by Brenner:
– Ruth might have had no choice in how events unfolded after her initial decision to move to a foreign land – most of her later actions are motivated by her mother-in-law Naomi.
– She is always referred to as ‘Moabite’, clearly labelling her as a foreigner.
– She is only able to get menial work in the fields due to the low social status of non-Israelites.
– She disappears from her own story towards the end after the birth of her son Obed who carries on the family line – she is not “integrated”, merely “assimilated”.
– Jewish tradition required her to convert, which it is implied she does, yet Brenner finishes this section with the following question: “a convert remains a convert, almost never an ‘in’ person – does this ring a bell?” [167-168].
Brenner estimated that around two thirds of migrant workers in Israel in 2005 were women. Just like in the story of Ruth, they are often only able to get menial jobs. It is more difficult, or even impossible, to get Israeli citizenship unless you are a Jew although policies may have changed. Moreover, wages often do not meet minimum-wage, although legally required to.
When studying history it is easy to forget that the people we study were, and are, real. History should not be romanticised. Migration is a key field that is increasingly studied through a transnational lens. Maybe future transnational history can increasingly appeal to a modern day audience that some problems still have not been solved even after thousands of years. It is time that they were.

Athalya Brenner, ‘From Ruth to the “Global Woman”: Social and Legal Aspects’, Interpretation, April 2010, pp. 162-168.

This past spring break was a welcome opportunity to slide some more bricks into place in the wall of my larger research project on historic maritime clothing, gathering evidence (while canoeing, drinking tea and generally brainstorming). The material is fascinating, but the time needed to download and organize the various files was incredibly tedious (several days of copying, pasting and labeling), and so had not happened until now due to the time-demands of term. However, with this done, the next step will be the process of analyzing these images for potential conclusions, and then linking them with prior research as well as the historiography on the wider topics of transnational history and material culture (my upcoming short essay). While it’s frustrating to not yet know whether this diligent collection will pay off in full, I’m satisfied both that I now have these files on hand for future projects, and that I can potentially make some really interesting connections between the new evidence I describe below…

The first source I dug into were two sets of printings of the ‘Cries of Paris’, both currently housed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York). These genre images of urban life are part of a series which consist of about 70 engravings which show various street vendors and itinerant laborers on the mid-18th century streets of France’s capital. While not directly related to my topic, these will be useful for putting the depictions of sailors into context by demonstrating the ways in which other members of France’s urban working class dressed, to find if there are any similarities (like use of clogs), or differences (the length of garments for instance, or styles of legwear). However, this series only deals with Paris, so I might have to find the other later and earlier editions by other artists which depict the streets of Dublin and London, to put this in truly international perspective!

Two larger paired sources were two 1790s French encyclopedias amassed by Jacques Grasset de Saint-Sauveur, the first (Illustrations de Encyclopédie des voyages, contenant l’abrégé historique des moeurs, usages, habitudes domestiques, religions, fêtes…) housed in the National Library of France (Paris), and the second (Costumes de Différent Pays) at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Over 500 colored engravings in total are shown, depicting the dress of groups around the world as understood by late-18th century French scholars. While the accompanying text from the book itself has very unfortunately not been digitized, which will likely limit the force of argument I can muster, the engravings themselves beautifully capture the way in which regional ethnic groups dressed, both within and outside of France. Besides just visual sources, an extant mahiole Hawaiian feather helmet in the collection of the British Museum which I was led to starting with its depiction in this book may also make an appearance in my coming work! So the potential for drawing and marrying evidence from written, visual and material sources is really promising so far, provided I can read enough to critique and use sources wisely. I’m hoping to reference these items in larger discussions of ‘Enlightenment anthropology’ to use these within a discussion of how sailors linked the world as agents of trade and European exploration, and how these connections were reflected in the clothing they wore (or didn’t, depending on the nation).                                                                                                                                            

A final major breakthrough was the downloading of a 2 Volume Traité Général des Pesches et Histoire des Poissons (Vol. 1 1769, Vol. 2 1772), by Duhamel Du Monceau. While this document spends an incredible amount of text on the fish species themselves and the manner in which they are harvested, throughout it consistently and explicitly draws comparison between the economic models, ships, techniques, infrastructure, crews, and even clothing used by the various nations at work in the major European fisheries. And secondly, it is beautifully illustrated with dozens of engraved plates which are remarkably clear in their depictions of men dressed in day-to-day work within the various maritime trades. This work is both comparative and international in its outlook, which is similar to a lot of other sources I’ve found so far from this pre-19th century period, when European ‘nations’ were far more heterogeneous than we are used to.                                   

I could gush about more pieces, but my word-count is up, and I’d rather get back to reading, so I can muster the theoretical framework I need to use these sources effectively.

What is interesting about material history is often not objects in themselves, but what they infer about their social environments. Using the example of the AGA oven, it can be argued that its transnational nature lies in its links into wider issues; how efficiency ideals combine with emotion and tradition to be appropriated in different contexts.

The AGA is a Swedish invention from 1922 which, from the outset, was invented to increase efficiency in the kitchen. It was designed to be multi-purpose as a cooker, laundry-dryer, hot water heater and general heat source. From Sweden it travelled to Britain in 1929, which is now the main manufacturer of AGAs. An interesting question to ask is why the AGA has not remained popular in Sweden, its origin country, but has become an icon in British culture where several separate designs such as the British Rayburn and Irish Stanley ovens have been developed from the original AGA. The answer might lie in cultural ideals. Whereas Sweden is typically seen as a liberal and environmentally responsible country driven by modern design, Britain remains rooted in traditions. Thus, the AGA at the heart of the middle-class countryside home is also at the heart of a form of British identity.

The AGA was progressive in the 1920s, and therefore rooted in modernity. However, its unaltered design now also connects it to the past. The synthesis of influences and national input in creating this particular oven makes it interesting, but what drives its status is, above all, how people relate emotionally to a piece of technology used primarily for cooking. The AGA is a lifestyle, a beating heart of the home and a friend. How people respond to this in different places, and emotionally engage with an object in different cultural circumstances creates a sense of universal experience. Even today, the AGA is increasingly popular in certain places in France, but rarely used in Scandinavia. This is also an indication of environmental policies, although the company has responded to this by creating a new AGA model that has electronic controls and can be switched on and off which, in its turn, reflects wider global responses to public demand for more environmentally conscious consumer items.

The AGA is an example of the transmission of ideas and inventions across borders, and demonstrates different ideals being appropriated in different contexts. Its enduring, largely unaltered, design and successful impact in different cultural conditions thus give it resonance in transnational history. What can be inferred from this, and the range of questions it raises is, however, what is truly exciting. For further exploration of this, see my forthcoming project on kitchen efficiency and development.

Returning to the discussion of transnational history after a few weeks break a look at some more general readings will be discussed, though our individual research does continues. These readings are presented as insight into different ways in which different historians approached their various topics and in turn give those historians reading these articles a look at what might work and what might not. Ulrike Lindner’s article titled Transnational movements between colonial empires: migrant workers from the British Cape Colony in the German diamond town of Lüderitzbucht is a good example of one of these readings showing how a smaller more confined yet not completely Micro history can be used to highlight what transnational history is through a concise well written though problematic article. His commentary focuses on two colonies, that of the British Cape Colony and the Germany Colony in Lüderitzbucht, in South Africa and how they’re economy, political encounters, and social interactions were effected by a transfer of workers. Though well written with several good points there arises several problems within the article, the first emerging at the very beginning. At the start of the article Lindner outlines what he will be discussing stating that he will be talking about these two colonies by using the term transnational rather than transcolonial or transterritorial. This would have been fine had he gone into further detail as to why or if he had stated that the term transnational was an umbrella term under which these other two terms rested. This then causes problems throughout the paper as he writes on the assumption that because of their actions as people according to their national habits the interactions are transnational. He does not give explains of how these colonies were specifically German and specifically British which is imperative to such a paper, as these people may have changed socially after having moved to Africa. This then affects his argument that because of their social atmosphere the Germans are more likely to treat the native workers harshly and give them less rights than the British do.

Along with this dilemma comes the fact that the author only looks at the minority and race workers in a transcolonial lens, giving very little time to non German and British workers, corrupt workers, woman and children workers, and white workers. He also barely touches on the economic trade between the two colonies having to do with water, food, and other essential commodities which, essential to the livelihood of the workers, were hard to come by in the German Colony but easily found in the British one. Though these problems hinder Lindner’s argument aiding in making a well written work less reliable they do not completely take away from a good case study in the area of transnational history. The author picked a small area to focus on though not too small and not excluding too many people. He then focused on one aspect of that history, the migrating work force, and did his utmost to highlight how these two colonies transnational aspects effected and were effected by these workers. In the end though the article does present several problems it also gives the historian a good example of how one might present the area of transnational history so as not to overwhelm the reader. As I continue further into the research and writing of my own project it is helpful to consider articles such as this one as a good example of a subject given just the right scope under which to have been examined and which gives me as a historian a better grasp on how I might also achieve this.