Stock on Dissident Identity Formation

Having come direct from reading the Guardian’s reports on Tunisia over breakfast, I am now re-reading Brian Stock, The Implications of Literacy, in preparation for my paper at Leeds in a week or so’s time. The deep truths of the following paragraph struck me forcibly. I offer without further comment:

The traditional approach is to trace the background of dissidents, assuming that the formative experience takes place before the individual enters a heretical cell and that his sense of solidarity is based upon a previously developed, commonly held need. However, membership in any group proceeds in stages. The familial, institutional, intellectual, or “class” bonds of the individual before joining are only the point of departure. In many cases the process of socialization continues within the group and arises, as suggested, from patterns of interaction with the other members. This period of education helps determine later behaviour (and may, as well, influence the reinterpretation of earlier events). … Group interaction also determines doctrinal dissemination. Only rarely is an idea utilized by a small voluntary association simply because it has deep historical roots. It must also respond to a problem in the here and now: in that sense, all dissident movements, whether heretical or reformist, are contemporaneous phenomena, no matter how they historicize their origins. (pp.100-101).

Magna Carta and the People

The 800th anniversary of Magna Carta has brought with it a lot of rather self-congratulatory and not always entirely relevant musings on the triumph of the Westminster system of government and the superiority of the Anglo-commonwealth legal system, and a number of cautionary warnings issued to world governments about upholding these presumed triumphs and superiorities within and beyond the boundaries of the post-colonial remnants of the British Empire. On national radio, I too have been asked to talk about what the outcomes of the charter were in abstract legal and philosophical terms, both in medieval England and 21st century Australia; and in more human, biographical terms, on what it was about King John himself that provoked it. (Possibly among the most memorable lines about history ever uttered on the ABC: “So, King John was a bit of a tool, wasn’t he?” I have to admit, I actually loved that particular interview!)

Reflecting on this anniversary myself, I realise that, like most of the histories of the past, and with few exceptions, commentators (and I’m talking popular media here) have been approaching Magna Carta mainly as a document of royal and systemic (if not necessarily systematic) significance. In other words, they read it in direct terms as being a verdict on John, and in wider terms as being about rights granted and to be maintained, and about systems thenceforth put in place to do so (themselves also in need of maintenance). All of those things have their place and their interest. But while the barons (and church, Welsh, Scots, Londoners, etc., etc.) are implicitly recognised as part of the narrative of producing Magna Carta, most modern commentaries seem to overlook the essential role of ‘the people’, broadly interpreted, in the charter’s origins, development, granting, and subsequent maintenance.

I don’t want to add tons of unnecessary words to this discussion, as we’re at risk of passing #PeakMagnaCarta very soon already. But having been thinking recently about the historian’s ethical obligations to engage in modern debates of relevance, I do want to add the following 2 cents.

Public medievalism and the medievalist, or why I will dress up if I want to

If you’d been in the corridors around my office a few weeks back, you would have come across me and several of my wonderful tutors and colleagues bedecked in thirteenth century(ish) garb. This was not a closet cosplay club. This was serious pedagogy folks. In the closing week of semester, we held a ‘Medieval Expo’ of student posters, videos and podcasts aimed at educating a general audience about the middle ages, and turned it into a festival with staff and students in costume and prizes for the ‘People’s Choice’ displays.

Checking out some student work in character as Ingeborg of Denmark

To my mind, historical education is a serious business, but that’s no reason not to have fun as well. After all, I love what I do, so why can’t students be encouraged to have a blast while also acquiring historical knowledge and transferable skills?

Apparently not quite everyone agreed, although the students raved about it and all the teaching staff involved were excited by this innovative addition to the assessment program. The odd dissenting voice of critique seemed to suggest that in dressing up we had undermined our own and our discipline’s credibility. This not a unique view: ‘real’ historians often deride ‘amateur’ re-enactment troupes and the SCA set. This was the prevailing attitude I encountered as an undergraduate student myself. Now, I find I beg to differ. Let me tell you why.