MO3351 Doing and Practicing Transnational and Global History

How to Pick a Research Project

Without any assigned readings for this week, and the ‘uncomference’ looming, I felt that my blog posting should reflect my journey towards picking a project proposal. This has been a difficult task for me, and I’ve often jumped from idea to idea, sometimes within days of changing. With a joint degree of history and geography, I knew my project would always in some way end up reflecting both of these interests. However, when studying further what a transnational perspective is, I felt the task could encompass anything and everything and still reflect both of my interests. For me, they fit together so easily, and a transnational perspective of history, has, in my eyes, exposed how entwined these two disciplines actually are.

To begin with, I know my progress reflected everything that Konrad Lawson, in his blog posting ‘Ideas to Sources or Sources from Ideas’, stated was standard for a student to do: “to begin with the big topic, the idea, or a potential argument and then they set off to find the sources”[1]. For me, my first idea of inspiration came from Geography. After completing a module in my second year of university which looked at Edward Said and Michel Foucault and how these ideas are still very apparent in today’s society, I knew I was interested in the themes of Power and ‘Us and Them’. Within the geography module, we had focused upon more modern day events such as the 9/11 attacks, the ‘War on Terror’ and Boko Harem. Said’s ideas, as seen within ‘Orientalism’, are very apparent in a lot of historical events and very much concern global connections. Often these global connections are a country pushing power over another so in that respect, thinking about the ideas of power relations, it was still difficult to pin point an event/place/time period that I wanted to start my research.

With an idea in my head that I wanted to look at global politics, I looked further into what I am also interested in. I knew that I was also fascinated with the media and the influence that the media holds. So often it is the media that reflects societal feelings or pushes society to think a certain way. However, this is not simply a modern day phenomenon that has occurred with our dependency on Social Media and being constantly connected via mobile phones. Tracking the rise of the daily newspapers during the nineteenth century, especially from a British stand point, highlights the influence and power that these papers held in regards to how society developed.

Both of these ideas made me want to research further into British colonial expansion, the knowledge produced from the exploration, and how this was portrayed to society back in Britain. However, I still only had a very broad idea of what my project would concern. Yet, as often happens, conducting further research, and with a historical geography lecture ringing in my head, I suddenly became interested in the idea of exploring. And more importantly, the importance of the map as a tool to exploration. The idea that Christopher Columbus only found the Americas because of an inaccurate map, or that the British Imperial map was also a tool to emphasise it’s world standing, attracted me enough to head to the library for some books.

From here, and maybe because I had just read Konrad’s posting, I, instead of focusing on reading around the subject of the map, began to look at the map’s themselves to see the changes over time, starting way back with Strabo’s Geography and looking towards Google Maps of today, to understand what the map reflects about society of the time and how countries became connected outside of the national boundaries.

Whether there is a correct approach in how to choose a research project or not, both approaches that were highlighted with Konrad’s article, have their positives and negatives. To some degree, I’ve tested them both, and still even I do not have the answer to how someone should go about picking a topic for their research.

[1] http://transnationalhistory.net/doing/2016/02/14/ideas-to-sources-or-ideas-from-sources/ (21/02/16)

Practicing Microhistory

As the debate between Microhistory and Global History is raised this week, I would like to focus on Struck, Ferris and Revel’s article, ‘Introduction: Space and Scale in Transnational History’ as the foundation for contemplating scale in history, then look to Tonio Andrade’s case study, ‘A Chinese Farmer, Two African Boys and a Warlord: Toward a Global Microhistory’ to asses whether or not micro perspectives help or hinder our research in creating a global/transnational history.

The introduction article was extremely helpful in pinning down the definition of Transnational History and elaborating further on the aspects that surround this method/perspective/approach (still being debated). The article explained reasoning behind the growing trend towards a transnational approach and methodological issues that have surfaced since. The article states the importance of the nation has diminished in understanding history and thus the new question of what scale to focus on becomes apparent. As a new transnational approach is being used and explored, its undefined perimeters have left the scale and space of historical study up for debate. Where should we find a balance between global, national and local histories that adequately incorporates each tier to give the overall best analysis of a subject? The writers concluded the article by arguing the need for a ‘micro-process perspective […] in order to facilitate macro scale understanding’. The fluctuation of scale will continue, but for now, perhaps we take a serious look at a micro perspective of history to help us building a larger understanding.

As we take the questions posed in the introduction article we can look to Andrade’s case study surrounding a Chinese Farmer and war in 17^th century Taiwan as a unique micro history of an individual’s experience in an intercultural situation. Throughout Andrade’s article, the advantages and disadvantages a micro perspective are illuminated. Andrade is an overwhelming advocate for studying ‘the human dramas that make history come alive.’ (574) In looking at archives, diaries, and personal accounts, the situations and events the protagonist encounters surface to represent hidden multinational connections. As Sait’s story unfolds, we continuously draw links between Chinese, Dutch, African, Portuguese, Indian and many more. The story represents the potential of understanding transnational connections through micro histories. When we look at the Andrade article it gives us a chance to really divulge in any individual perspective and use it as a starting place to look closer at history and hidden transnational connections. But also it leaves us with all of these questions concerning micro histories. Where do we start? What or do any perspectives take precedent? How do these smaller histories connect into one large history, as there still seems to be potential for disconnects? While these local and individual accounts allow us to look under the microscope of history and focus on truly uncovered knowledge, it almost offers too many options to create a solid method of study.

I am still unconvinced at how a solely micro approach is the most beneficial way to understanding parts of a whole, but one part of Andrade’s argument did successfully justify the need for spatial diversity. Andrade urges historians to ‘experiment with stories of individual lives in global contexts.’ (574) This idea of experimentation with different scales, stories, and documents is the key to Transnational History I’ve found so far. As the introductory article suggests, ‘transnational history is not a strict method’. Its beauty is in its abstract and undefined perimeters dedicated to finding connections and links between people, places and things. We must, as historians, continue to experiment with different scales and spaces, periods and narratives, to possibly find new these multicultural/multinational connections in our shared global history.

Toni Andrade’s Article: The Good and the Bad of Microhistory

Tonio Andrade’s Microhistory of the Siege of Fort Zeelandia is an excellent article in highlighting both the benefits and the pitfalls of micro history. Although Andrade begins his study with a rejection of the importance of the episode he pieces together, I found the article to be illuminating about some of the key factors at play in the exchange between the Dutch and Chinese in Taiwan. He claims that that the death of Sait is “insignificant in the sweep of global history”, that “there’s no prodding historiographical need to piece together his story” and that the only reason to write his article is to redress the balance as “we’ve tended to neglect the human dramas that make history come alive.” I feel strongly that this implies that this history is not as useful as others, that it belongs in a realm of histories that are fun to read but do not contribute a great deal to historical understanding. Towards the end of the article, Andrade again seems to reduce the historical significance of this article, with a lament about “the other lives that left no trace,” which I also feel takes away from what is a really interesting and useful article, not because his aim of restoring human agency to history is a bad one, but because it is far more useful than simply reminding readers that these people existed.

The article brings together and illustrates some key factors behind the Dutch loss of Taiwan to Koxinga, especially with regards to espionage during a siege. It reveals the different attitudes taken by the two sides towards collaborators, and that the Dutch could have won if they had trusted the Taiwanese natives more. In the disagreements between Cauw and Coyet we also see the problem of disagreements between the Dutch commanders, and how this might have affected the treatment of Chinese collaborators. Along with the gruesome accounts of Koxinga’s treatment of Dutch soldiers, we find out that the Dutch tortured prisoners, and that this resulted in them receiving false information. Furthermore, from a transnational perspective we gain a fascinating insight into the importance of African slaves in the conflict. Overall then we can divulge a great level of detail about an entire conflict from this relatively short article informing us about the story of a Chinese farmer.

There are however obvious drawbacks to the micro historical approach evidenced in this article. The ambiguity over the end of the life of Sait makes understanding what happened fully impossible. The array of different possibilities over whether he was spying for the Dutch or if he was spying for the Chinese, whether he killed himself or was killed by the Dutch, will never be solved. Andrade describes Sait as “the hero” of the article, but this only highlights the extent to which he leans on Braudel’s insistence on the importance of imagination to the historian: Sait could just as easily be painted as a villain based on the evidence presented in the article, and Andrade seems confused himself when in one paragraph claiming “It seems likely that he really was a double agent at the end,” and in the next “There’s no way to know whether Sait was a double agent.” The amount of questions that remain, and the amount of ‘maybe’s’ posed as possible explanations for the death of Sait show how a lack of evidence can be problematic for a micro historical approach.

In conclusion I would reiterate that I actually really liked this article, but found aspects of it frustrating. Overall it is useful for understanding both the conflict between the Dutch and the Chinese warlord Koxinga, and the change this caused in the relations between the Dutch and the Taiwanese people who they had got along with for so long. From our transnational perspective it highlights the usefulness of micro history in finding transnational connections, but also the limitations of evidence when looking at history on a micro level.

Tonio Andrade, ‘A Chinese Farmer, Two African Boys and a Warlord: Toward a Global Microhistory, Journal of World History, Vol.21, No.4 (December 2010)

Scale in Micro History and Global History

I’ll admit that one of the issues I have been having in attempting to envisage global and transnational history and what they might entail is the potential scope of the subjects. At times, it seems that there are so many subjects with numerous possible transnational connections that it is difficult (and quite daunting) to identify what they are and what might be important. Thus, I feel that a micro-historical approach is useful as an entry point into doing global and transnational history. One of the benefits of microhistory, as illustrated by Andrade is that it brings theory into actuality through putting a human focus on cross-cultural connections. Through focusing on an individual, it is possible to see links that would have been overlooked by a history of broader processes such as the role played by actors who are individually insignificant yet they illustrate global connections. This also provides a more intimate view of history which illustrates how human lives were affected by global networks and disruptions such as trade and conflicts. Braudel identifies the most important aspect of doing history to be imagination and this method certainly does capture it. It is impossible not to feel some level of emotional response to the plight of the Chinese farmer stuck between two warring nations in Taiwan. However, surely the narrative aspect of this kind of history is in danger of falling too far into imagination. It is possible, when starting with a subject so small to create connections that are tenuous at best. A similar criticism is levelled at Carlo Ginzburg’s influential The Cheese and The Worms. In line with his conception of microhistory, Ginzburg suggests that the exceptional cosmological beliefs of an Italian peasant are indicative of the existence of a broader sub-stratum of peasant beliefs that remained hidden from official culture. However it has been suggested that this is something of a stretch as no evidence of this belief system exists elsewhere. Surely this problem becomes greater when the processes being illuminated are on a much more global scale and the various factors to contend with are more complex.

Another criticism levelled at microhistory is that it is an approach that neglects broader contexts, suggesting that it is incompatible with transnational history which must consider the contexts of the nations involved and how they shape the connections between them. Can be seen that microhistory does not ignore these broader contexts, it simply explores what it is to be an individual actor within them – which is surely a worthwhile effort.

Similarly, a micro historical approach allows historians to examine the broader contexts of events that have previously been explained on a local level. The Singapore mutiny is a prime example of this as a focus on this singular event, which the author admits was of little global significance in 1915, means that the causes of the mutiny can be traced through connections which reveal a much more global image that the traditional characterisation of local disruptions. This additional transnational aspect gives this event new importance in the history of Indian independence and colonial resistance

However, a micro historical approach does not just illuminate new transnational aspects of histories traditional explained at a local level. It also provides the opportunity to explore different levels of transnational exchanges within the same community. Again, this is significant in areas which have a colonial past as narrowing the scope of enquiry allows us to see divergences from the accepted narratives of colonial relations. In changing the scale of study I am reminded of Karen Hughes’ study of indigenous Australian women around Lake Alexandrina and their relations with settler-born women in the same area. The legislation that made Australia an independent nation in 1905 characterises Australia as being founded in the image of a European state. This transplantation of European culture shaped the nation through its implementation of laws which stopped the immigration of ‘non-whites’ from countries with previous migrant links, and gave preference to the European settlers, suggesting that there was no longer any cultural exchange occurring. However, in narrowing the focus to the lives of women in a particular area, Hughes discovered that networks of cross-cultural exchange existed below the official level through the interactions of settler-born women and indigenous women, showing that Australia was not simply a product of its European heritage, rather it was shaped by a process of cultural negotiation.

Heather Streets-Salter, The Local Was Global:
The Singapore Mutiny of 1915, Journal of World History 24 (2013).

Andrade, Tonio, ‘A Chinese Farmer, Two African Boys, and a Warlord: Toward a Global Microhistory’,Journal of World History 21, 4 (2010), pp. 573-591.

Carlo Ginzburg, The Cheese and The Worms: The cosmos of a sixteenth century miller, translated by John Tedeschi, Anne Tedeschi, John Hopkins University Press, 1976

Dominick La Capra, History and Criticism, Cornell University Press, 1987

Karen Hughes, Opening Spaces of Possibility in Ngarrindjeri Country: micro-histories and things that matter, Australian Feminist Studies, Volume 27, Issue 73, 2002

From Italian miller to Singapore mutiny: an attempt at differentiating Microhistory and Transnational History

After all, what is of essence here in a discussion of microhistory, transnational history and global history is the matter of scale. A change of scale brings in a change of perspective, which results in new questions and the development of new modes of narrative, explanation, analysis – that is, a new methodology.

New methodologies bring with them their problems as well, and also new questions that demand satisfactory answers. Microhistory and transnational history overlap in their concerns with “micro-process perspective” and “individuals or the local” which will aid understanding on the macro-scale. (“Introduction”, B. Struck et. al.) Yet, this necessarily entails a need to bridge the “broad range from local and individual to global,” and to choose carefully the “units of analysis”.

A good way to start thinking about these issues is to look at ways that the practise of microhistory and transnational history differs – here I shall refer to Carlo Ginzburg’s The Cheese and the Worms and Heather Streets-Salter’s discussion of the Singapore Mutiny in 1915. It will be difficult (and perhaps inaccurate) to say in a clear-cut way, that microhistory is methodological, whereas transnational history is a perspective – ultimately because both kinds of historical writings demonstrate methodological innovation and a change of perspective. But my first attempt at differentiation is to posit that microhistory is indebted to cultural history, whilst transnational history emerges out of the study of international politics.

Ginzburg’s cross-section of 16th century Italy centres on the figure of a miller commonly known as Menocchio. What Ginzburg is refuting here is that the relationship between the dominant (I’m thinking priests, landlords etc.) and subordinating classes (peasants) is unilateral, of a top-down kind. Ginzburg shows in his book that Menocchio was also influenced by the peasant oral tradition. What is being dealt with here is how ideas transmit, and in particular, how someone belonging to the otherwise faceless group of the “peasantry” is not only open to influences from both highbrow and lowbrow, but also mixes them together in such an explosive way that authorities had to deem him as a heretic and be sent to being burnt at the stake. The important discovery here, with recourse to an “exceptional case”, is that the story of an elite culture dominating an agricultural society has its surprising twists and anomalies. That is to say that the dominance of elite culture is not absolute, the nature of the elite-peasant relationship is more fluid and porous than it used to be portrayed, and there might have been a radical peasant culture that had existed autonomously.

Now consider Streets-Salter’s history of the Singapore Mutiny. It has less to do with challenging assumptions related to cultural transmission than to suggest that framing the event in the context of Singaporean national history/Indian nationalist movement is painfully circumscribed. It deals here with the political intercolonial and global connections and ideologies that informed and influenced the actions of individuals involved in the mutiny. The author is arguing for its significance to regional, imperial and world history alongside other political events which happened in the same year but have been accorded more importance.

I liked what Ginzburg said about the distinguishing feature of historical study being “its concrete nature” and “attention to specific or singular phenomena”. Practitioners of both microhistory and transnational history would very likely agree to that. If the umbrella term is “historical micro”, and its contribution lies with providing “new ways of describing and analysing” micro-macro links (as Matti Peltonen cogently argues), then microhistory and transnational history each represent an original way to conceptualise the linkage.

The “Introduction” piece (by B. Struck et. al.) provides another useful angle on this, using the metaphor of the “pendulum swing”. From “large-scale questions and analysis in classic social history in 1960s and 80s to small-scale analysis in cultural history during the 80s and 90s,” we go back to the preference for “large-scale questions related to globalisation, global, world and transnational history.” My analysis above has largely focused on microhistory as a cultural history and transnational history as a political history, but here we can see that another differentiating aspect has to do with the scale.

The size of the historical lens: Singapore 1915

The 1915 Singapore mutiny is a well-documented event that has somehow escaped the attention of most historians: an issue which Heather Streets-Salter attempts to rectify in an article discussing the global implications of this local event. Divided into two parts, Streets-Salter details both the Causes and Responses that were mostly left out of official accounts.
On the 15th of February in 1915, 850 soldiers in the 5th Light Infantry, consisting of Indians brought to Singapore by the British, mutinied against the authorities in Singapore. The uprising was suppressed after two days, and 203 sepoys from the 5th infantry were tried in court leading to several executions, transportations and prison sentences [p.540]. Although it was a well documented event at the time in order for the British to understand the reasons for the mutiny, it has barely been studied since there were other big events in 1915 such as Germany’s declaration of a submarine blockade on Britain. What is interesting about this case is that British authorities quickly provided a public version of events that was very different from the case presented in court. Whereas officials publically dismissed the mutiny as little more than a suppressed riot, evidence demonstrates extensive involvement of several different countries to control what must have been perceived as a real threat to British control in Singapore. P.547 The official version has, however, affected later interpretations, thus highlighting the issue of representation in history as well as by historians.
Streets-Salter also brings attention to the issue of global influences that led to the mutiny, as well as the global response in suppressing it. The Indian men of the 5th regiment were free to move around Singapore when not on duty, and were likely exposed to contact with Ghadar (mutiny) Indian activists who were campaigning for the end of the British Raj in India. This, alongside general anti-British sentiment, led to action, and the mutiny can thus not be dismissed merely as a local event. Moreover, when news of the unrest spread, armed help came from several other nations before the British forces themselves arrived. In this case, a number of consuls of different nationalities stepped in to suppress the unrest, one of the most proactive being the Japanese consul who organised raising forces to patrol the roads leading into the city, stressing the importance of considering the role of consuls in the history of empire [p.565]. In fact, the significance of France, Russia and Japan offering assistance in this matter is a direct example of the recently developed global alliances in the lead up to the war [p. 567]. Each force that had helped was recognised by the Singapore authorities and awarded with a parade before they left the island. However, the very fact that the authorities stopped the news of the mutiny spreading indicates that rather than being a small scale local riot it was, in fact, a significant event with both global influences and consequences [p. 575].
This is only one case study, but Streets-Salter argues her points well: the local can, and should, sometimes be considered on a global scale. Official accounts can hide the truth almost better than they tell it. Ultimately, “in many ways it is a question of the size of the historical lens” [p.544].

Heather Streets-Salter, The Local Was Global:
The Singapore Mutiny of 1915, Journal of World History 24 (2013).

Micro History and the Dangers of Extrapolating Trends

As much as I always enjoy micro histories, with regards to transnational histories, I have had some hesitations regarding the compatibility of these two historical perspectives. I worry that to apply transnational perspectives to local people and events puts the historian at risk for jumping the gun, as it were; I fear it is perhaps too easy to analyze the experience of one person or people or place and to proceed to extrapolate that reality into a trend across other similar phenomena. For example, we would never accept the supposition that because 13^th century Italian women ate off of special plates after giving birth this was a piece medieval birthing rituals across all of Europe. However, that is the precise danger of looking at the micro through a macro lens; conclusions must necessarily err on the side of micro significance or risk a loss of accuracy. However, the readings for this week allayed most of my misgivings about this process.

I loved Tonio Andrade’s article; I could read him for days. His writing is much more poetic and artistic than most of the authors that we’ve read; the beautiful narrative paints a vivid picture of the texture and reality of the Chinese farmer’s life, much more akin to short story fiction than the primarily technical and theoretical articles we have been studying thus far. Through the retelling of Sait’s experiences, his ‘short encounter with history’, the reader’s understanding of the conflict between the Dutch and the Chinese becomes highly personalized (p. 590). When he dies, the reader feels the loss, and as Andrade offers possible explanations, a comparison of both the Dutch and Koxinga’s forces reveals the similarities in their methods to a frustrated audience: suspicion, hastiness, and willingness to turn on their own allies. Andrade uses Sait’s experience as a prism through which to view the behavior and tactics of both sides of the conflict, a single life reflecting the complexities of a much larger war. I personally believe that this personalization is a great strength of histories of this kind, but others disagree; if one prizes objectivism over emotional engagement, then one would probably see Andrade’s writing as needlessly artistic and insufficiently analytical.

His question of ‘How does one write on the scale of individuals from a global perspective?’ is delightfully provocative, and it is one that I feel will be pertinent to my personal project this semester (p. 574). I think that the idea of the individual as an intersection of multiple transnational influences is the best method of analyzing micro histories in transnational contexts, as Andrade does with his ‘individual lives in global contexts’ (p. 274). Clavin discussed a similar approach in her example of Julius Bonn in ‘Defining Transnationalism’. Struck, Ferris and Revel’s article deals more with the ‘transmicro’ methodology, and the application of certain perspectives and techniques to these smaller tales. I feel that this will be of particular use to me, as I hope to do my research this semester on religious syncretism and identity in the Caribbean islands during the 19^th and 20^th centuries. Examining a single life in an effort to understand how international influences melded together would be highly effective in proving the significance of religion to these oppressed peoples, and I think this might well be the approach I choose to take. However, I would certainly hope that my classmates and tutors will be willing to critique my work, and brutally, as I do not want to fall into the trap of extrapolation outlined above.

Andrade, Tonio, ‘A Chinese Farmer, Two African Boys, and a Warlord: Toward a Global Microhistory’, Journal of World History 21, 4 (2010), pp. 573-591.

Clavin, Patricia, ‘Defining Transnationalism’, Contemporary European History 14, 4 (2005), pp. 421-439.

Struck, Bernhard, Kate Ferris & Jacques Revel, ‘Introduction: Space and Scale in Transnational History’, The International History Review, 33:4 (2011), pp. 573-584.

The Importance of Scale

When studying history, it is common to think in terms of time; when an event happened and the events that preceded and succeeded it. But to throw in the idea of scale can allow a certain event to be viewed differently. Scale creates a different perspective that is often not thought about when it comes to a chronological national history. By breaking things down, into smaller pieces, a larger connection can become apparent.

This is an idea that is linked to that of microhistory, and the notion of focusing on a singular event that is out of place to draw conclusions about the larger theme of events. Microhistory was initially used as an overall label for a set of historical studies with the main characteristic of these studies being the “method of clues”.[1] This is an aspect of microhistory that was advocated by Carlo Ginzburg and Giovanni Levi in which the historians find something that does not fit, a ‘clue’, that therefore needs to be explained and begin an investigation from there. The ‘clue’ is something that seems odd, out of place, and in some cases discontinuous from its environment and it is only from studying this ‘clue’ that connections are revealed, to create a continuity and flow between events.[2] Microhistory reveals a need for scale to be classed as important as it is only through the breakdown of themes into smaller scales, a case study of various events so to speak, that connections between these can be formed, a connection that may have been lost by only viewing the larger picture of the nation state.

For transnational history, the idea of scale can also be seen as important to understanding events and larger themes. In particular, social processes, and how they overlap, cannot be comprehended within boundaries of the likes of states, nations, empires and regions. To really grasp the importance of interaction and the circulation of ideas, peoples, institutions or technologies across state or national boundaries, it is the circulation that needs to be studied and not the various nations themselves.[3] Often it is only by doing this that interactions between the people themselves can be highlighted, which can give a different perspective to a particular time period than the study of the nation state itself would have highlighted. It can be seen that the nation state is no longer the only perspective to take when analysing history and that historians are branching out to look for alternative narratives.

Changing the perspective that is used to analyse history creates a change of scale which in turn allows for new questions to arise and with that new explanations for the connection of events. This links to microhistory and the idea of studying the small scale to get a better understanding of the bigger picture and how everything is interconnected. A transnational and microhistorical perspective, to look to the smaller scale and to break events down, allows people, events, objects to become interconnected in a way that can get lost when simply analysing the history of a nation state.

[1] Peltonen, Matti, ‘Clues, Margins, and Monads: The Micro-Macro Link in Historical Research’, History and Theory, 40(3) 2001, p.349

[2] Ibid., p.357

[3] Struck, Bernhard, Kate Ferris, Jacques Revel, ‘Introduction. Space and Scale in Transnational History’, in International History Review Dec 2011 33.4 p.574

Micro & Macro

In his article praising the uses of micro-history, Tonio Andrade hits the nail on the head by stating that imagination is the most important tool of the historian. Micro-history, with its up close and personal approach, feeds into the imagination in a way I don’t believe macro-history can replicate. Looking back, when I first remember history being my favourite subject at school, it was the little everyday details of the past which grabbed my imagination and ran away with it. More than ten years on, as an undergraduate history student, the feeling remains the same. Obviously, as time has gone on, the importance of macro-historical questions and narratives has become much clearer to me. They are obviously crucial to the study of history. However, just like Andrade, I think finding the right balance between different scales of historical narratives is vital. His story of the Chinese fisherman in Taiwan brought to life the stories of people I had honestly never even considered before. If told from a macro-historical perspective, this is an area of history I probably, unfortunately, would skip past in favour of something else. Yet, after this article alone, I actually found myself curious about this point in history. That, to me, is the most important aspect of micro-history. It drops you immediately in the thick of it, and leaves you feeling very strongly about the people and events you encounter. Yes, most of the big questions in history need macro-history to be explored, but . Micro-history seems to be the most efficient way of sparking interest in previously unexplored topics, which in turn opens doors to completely new areas of historical enquiry.

Ideas to Sources or Ideas from Sources?

It isn’t unusual for a historian to look out onto the landscape of historiography on a particular issue and get the feeling that something is amiss. This can be the spark that sends them into the archives (or their existing notes from materials) and the start of a new research project. Or, they notice an unusual gap and—and this is important—believe that this gap hides something important and telling, and then embark on a study of it. These are perfectly normal ways into a new topic. I often see students make an equivalent move, a move that I did many times myself as a student: they begin with the big topic, the idea, or a potential argument and they then set off to find the sources that will determine if the idea or argument holds. If it doesn’t then you modify your idea accordingly.

However, students face one disadvantage in particular when they take this approach: they are often more restricted in the kinds of sources they can consult. This is sometimes due to the limits of their language abilities, or the limits of the resources of their libraries and its databases. And of course, in most circumstances, a student will not have the time or resources to travel to archives and spend time there.

This being the case, I often recommend that students begin with an alternative approach: to begin with interesting primary sources and explore them, keeping one’s eye open for what one finds unusual and out of place, or patterns that one finds revealing. Making a list of such things can become a list of candidates for a class essay or project (in cases when you are determining the topic one ones own). This approach, an “ideas from sources” as opposed to a “from ideas to sources” approach requires a significant up-front investment of time – time for browsing and for exploring through a haystack when one isn’t yet even looking for any particular needle, as the cliché goes. However, this can often pay out wonderful rewards, including less stress and less last-minute investment of time as one struggles to find evidence to support a particular argument.

In my modules on East and Southeast Asia, I include a list of primary sources that we have access to here at St Andrews, or on the open web. There are, of course, many more for those interested in other parts of the world, but they may give you an idea of how much is already at your fingertips: Primary Sources on East and Southeast Asia.

Comparative History (chicken?) – Transnational History (egg?)

It was great to see some of you browsing through last year’s posts, comments, readings – that is precisely the purpose of running “the soul” of MO3351 on this site. Keep going, browsing, interacting with previous students’ thoughts.

Now, this week the question of “histoire croisée” (Michael Werner & Bénédicte Zimmermann) came up, along with other questions on the relation between comparative history and transnational history. Are they compatible, mutually exclusive or interdependent? Or are they in fact Chicken and Egg (a never-ending circle)?

So what comes first? The comparison-transnational conundrum

We have already hinted at Kiran K. Patel and his “Soldiers of Labour” (2005). As we said, comparative history can come first, with transnational history (i.e. the focus on connections and transfers, movement) coming in second, as another layer to explain similarities via connectivity – as another “way of seeing”.

Also, there were some first thoughts and questions on potential projects that could mainly be driven by a comparative approach (sailors in French and British army prior to 1800). Yes, you can – see Patel. But what we would like to inspire is some thinking how comparative and transnational can relate or can be combined. That could be a focus for the shorter (conceptual) essay. It could take up questions we have already had in class: what is a method? what is an approach? Such an essay could be both historiographical as well as conceptual – in order to get a better grasp of the different strands that have led to where we are today: transnational history.

Here are some reading suggestions:

Deborah Cohen, Comparative History. Buyer Beware (2001). Cohen is also co-editor of a book on “Comparison and Beyond” (see course hand book).

Heinz-Gerhard Haupt, Comparative History – a contested method (2007). There is also the excellent co-edited volume by Haupt and Jürgen Kocka on “Comparison and Transnational History“.

Lastly, I would alway recommend the classic text by Marc Bloch “Toward a Comparative History of European Societies” (1928). (A bit hidden away the English version.)

Transnational Pub Talk – Week 3

GREAT, we did not only have a discussion around migration and the transnational making of post 1945 Germany (Rita Chin) and the USA (Ian Tyrrell) but you also started thinking ahead about your projects. Most of you have already penned down a few key words, potential themes for your long project / essay.

Week 3 - Pub Talk "transnationally" — Week 3 – Pub Talk “transnationally”

Next to reading on micro-macro for next week, our advice would be to set aside 2-3 hours (perhaps experiment with the Pomodori method) and think it further. All of you mention potentially great topics to explore from “sexual revolution”, “dissemination and impact of political ideas”, “Pan German identity in border regions”, and many more.

Strong research starts from questions, a research interest. Ask yourself what you want to know? Ask yourself what the transnational twist could be? Ask yourself how feasible your idea is – having pragmatic aspects such as language in mind. Again, its does not have to be standard essay – it can be an open project that explains the rationale of a bigger project, the transnational dimension, the sources, perhaps only with a smaller case study in it.

We can and will discuss this further – but start thinking ahead. Our Unconference, your Project Proposal will come quickly after next week’s class.

Seeing & Reviewing Week 2

Last week, based on AHR conversation, Clavin, and Rüger’s OXO we had a good discussion (mainly in small groups) around a number of topics – with a number of looses ends. These included:

Week 2: A visual reminder and loose ends

-the relation between nation and trans

-the relation between transnational and global history (world history)

-we touched upon the role (and moment of comparative history) in transnational history (with reference to the work of Kiran K. Patel “Soldiers of Labour”)

-we discussed the challenge of time & periodisation in transnational history

-the question came up: is transnational history a thematic history? migration, trade, social history…?

We hope to come back and encourage you to come back to these problems and challenges, both in class, essays, projects. Here is just the visual reminder of what we “threw” on the whiteboard.

Writing transnational Europe – adding tomatoes

Back to routines and habits – have you started trying any new routines or braking with old habits? Have you started writing for an hour pre-breakfast for a week? Have you been jogging on the beach following reading Tyrrell and then write for 45 minutes? Habits and routines do not come easy, research says it takes up to 4-6 weeks to implement a new routine into workflows. Do not do too many at a time, one at a time will do?

I have had a nice co-writing weekend with my friend and colleague James Koranyi from Durham. We made solid progress on our “Modern Europe. A transnational history”. What kept us on track was:

The writing place (AKA "Walden") — The writing place (AKA “Walden”)

-a nice setting (my writing shed)

-careful planning, setting goals (realistic goals)

-following the Pomodori method: 25mins focused writing, 5 minutes breaks.

-writing draft (not aiming at perfection and footnotes) – cut the “fat” later

Despite being a weekend it felt relaxed and rewarding to see the text growing steadily with a pace of 150-200 words per each Pomodori. There is more on the technique here. Or on “how to write a lot” here.

Any new suggestions or confessions this week – here or in class?

Finding a transnational scope on French sailor clothes?!

For the past two weeks, I’ve been struggling to define what I could feasibly write about during the coming weeks. From the practical viewpoint of a historian, national topics are appealing; one’s research material is physically closer, in one’s language, culturally familiar, and questions are limited to a certain extent by national borders. And yet transnational inquiry would seem to deepen our understanding of the past, especially in studying eras before state sovereignty was as rigid as it is today. There’s no reason for a false dichotomy here because, even if most non-academic readers would struggle to move beyond their own nationally-defined worldviews, including the “movement of peoples, ideas, technologies and institutions across national boundaries” (Tyrell 2007, p. 3) would simply deepen anyone’s existing understanding of the past.

I’m personally fascinated by researching and physically recreating clothing from the late 18th century, with the goal of using these in ‘public history’ (ie. living history museum programs). I find that building clothing is a hugely useful way to engage people with the historical period I’m passionate about, because it provokes conversation (there’s no way to not react to someone dressed in 250 year old fashion). Similarly, complex ‘academic’ topics can be grounded in concrete items, for instance, an interaction that begins with someone listening to the ticking of an antique verge-fusee watch, and ends with a discussion of conceptions of time before the industrial revolution! At present because of my involvement with a Tall Ship and French nonprofits in the naval town of Rochefort, I’ve been researching the dress of French sailors from 1778 to 1786, and reproducing their clothing for my own use at the site.

In a certain respect much of this is already transnational, namely, in mapping the multiple flows of materials, fashions, and influences that determined how sailors dressed. For instance, the textiles being used are often produced within France, but some come from around the world (eg. Dutch linen, Chinese silk). Maritime working garments are sometimes shared by seamen from various countries (like ‘petticoat breeches’) and sometimes are nationally specific (for instance, French sailor wear sashes, while Anglo-American ones do not). In finding primary sources like estate inventories (bureaucratic lists of dead mens’ clothing and effects) I have to go to France’s ‘National Archives’ at Paris; but I also get to collaborate with French friends who help me translate and understand these texts, or specialize in areas that I lack understanding. In essence, in studying the dress of sailors from one nation (France), I have to had to contextualize the transnational connections of what they wore and why.

Now my only question is how to relate this topic to this MO3351 course, and compress this body of material to a relevant question/topic ; do you have any ideas you can offer?