Category: Learning in Focus

Learning in Focus

  • Heritage and Memory: The NAMES Project Quilt

    Heritage and Memory: The NAMES Project Quilt

    Sophie Loftus, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, has written the following blog entry on Cleve Jones’ NAMES Project Quilt for the Introduction to Historical Research module. Sophie discusses how the quilt acts as an important memorial to the people who lost their lives to AIDS, while at the same time challenging social and cultural understandings of the disease. The module is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.

    In 1989, activist Cleve Jones stood in front of the White House with a message. Jones stated: ‘We bring a quilt. We hope it will help people to remember. We hope it will teach our leaders to act.’ [1] In that year, with limited response or recognition from its government, the death toll from AIDS in the United States of America – not simply homosexual men, but also heterosexual women, children and men – already stood at almost 90,000. Some three years earlier, in 1986, Jones realised that the dead in San Francisco from HIV/AIDS had already reached 1000 people. At the annual march, held in honour of Harvey Milk on the anniversary of his assassination, Jones asked members of the march to put the names of those lost on placards as a form of remembrance. These were then hung on the side of the old federal building. The effect reminded Jones of a quilt, something familial, cosy, handed down through generations for warmth and memory. [2] Jones wanted to create a memorial to those who had died from AIDS. In the Quilt, Jones argued that he wanted to take AIDS from ‘a “gay disease” into a shared national tragedy.’ [3] By the time the NAMES Project Quilt was displayed on the Mall in Washington DC in October 1987, as part of the National March for Lesbian and Gay rights, there were almost 2000 panels. [4] As of June 2016, The AIDS Memorial quilt makes up more than 49,000 panels, each one to commemorate someone lost to HIV/AIDS. [5] This blog looks to examine the power of collective memory and remembrance and how historians can engage with these sources to understand the power of memory not just as a source, but also as a subject. [6]

    The AIDS quilt. Image from Wikipedia.

    Arthur Marwick argued that the definition of a primary document was one which ‘by its very existence records that some event took place.’ [7] However, it must be argued that when historians are looking at other types of sources for historical importance, by simply reducing an object to little more than evidence, this can remove any form of emotive understanding of an event. [8] Sarah Barber argued that each type of source has ‘its own history which overlaps and influences those of other sources.’ [9] Here, the AIDS memorial Quilt can be seen as a useful tool in the understanding of other forms of source doing the work of memorialisation. Elaine Showalter, argues that the Quilt is seen as a ‘metaphor of national identity.’ [10] Cleve Jones, in the Quilt, attempted to represent familial bonds. By creating a memorial to the sheer size of the AIDS problem in the United States, he wanted to create a ‘way for survivors to work through their grief in a positive, creative way.’ [11] By attempting to create a positive representation of the AIDS epidemic, Jones may not have realised that he was also tapping into the ways in which scholars had begun to understand that there was a violence to the 20th century, which meant that people attempting to understand and process grief would require new ways to do this. [12]

    In the 1920s, Maurice Halbwach argued that collective memory was a ‘product of social frameworks.’ [13] He argued that history was the recording that remained once social memory faded away, and that ‘there is only one history.’ [14] However, this cannot be seen to be true; when understanding collective memory, one must understand that as a source, it is as unreliable as any other due to its potentially personal nature. The Quilt is a highly emotive piece, and some members of the LGBT community argued that it was too sanitised in its remembrance. Douglas Crimp argued that AIDS Activism hinged on how the gay community wished to be remembered, or how the crisis was intended to be seen: whether it was a disease ‘that has simply struck at this time and in this place – or as the result of gross political negligence.’ [15] Some members of the LGBT community argued that the Quilt was simply making the problem more palatable to heterosexual viewers. Thus, Marwick’s theory cannot be substantiated, collective memory cannot be seen as one history, for memory can be to some, a moment for grief and mourning, and for others a call to action and activism. [16]

    Scholars such as Bill Niven have argued that collective memory can be fruitful in understanding the way in which states and governments have attempted to encourage groups to certain views. [17] The AIDS Memorial Quilt however, is a vital example of how collective memory can challenge this. At the time of its conception, the American government were doing everything in its power to ignore AIDS. President Ronald Reagan did not mention the word AIDS on television until 1986, by which point almost 15,000 people had died of the disease. It is here that it can be seen that collective memory, or what John Bodnar has called ‘vernacular culture’ is crucial in describing the way in which groups form ways which ‘reflect how they want to remember historical events’. [18] This can be important for underrepresented groups who wish to control the narrative surrounding the memory of their own. The Quilt can be seen as what Mary Fulbrook describes as a ‘remembering agent’, or as what Jennifer Power calls a ‘counter memorial’, a piece of history which can be seen as not only a political protest, but also arguably showcasing the human side of the AIDS crisis. [19] It is not as some memorials, including those also represented at the Mall where the first showing of the quilt was presented, are normally envisioned. It is not made of stone, it moves and grows. The Quilt travels the nation and the world, in an attempt to challenge social and cultural understandings of AIDS.

    The Quilt was nominated in 1989 for a Nobel Peace Prize, and is the largest community art project in the world. [20] Cleve Jones created a memorial that grows every day, and can easily challenge historians regarding appropriate representations of remembrance. While some historians argue about the validity of collective memory as a source due to its potentially unreliable nature, the Quilt shows that counter memorials and representations of collective memory can be so important in understanding underrepresented history. They can place in the hands of historians and the world the ability to understand a past and a present which for some will never be memorialised in stone, but that people still require to grieve, to process, and to remember.

    NOTES

    [1] Cleve Jones, When We Rise: My life in the Movement. (London: Constable, 2017). 194.

    [2] Peter S. Hawkins, “Naming Names: The Art of Memory and the NAMES Project AIDS Quilt,” Critical Inquiry, Vol. 19, No. 4 (Summer, 1993). 752-779.

    [3] Hawkins, Naming. 752-779.

    [4] Ibid.

    [5] The NAMES Project, “AIDS Memorial Quilt FAQs”. https://www.aidsquilt.org/about/faqs, last accessed 11 April 2019.

    [6] Joan Tumblety, “Introduction: working with memory as source and subject” in Memory and History: Understanding Memory as Source and Subject. ed. Joan Tumblety. (London: Routledge, 2013). 1-17.

    [7] Sarah Barber and Corinna M. Peniston-Bird, “Introduction” in History beyond the text: A Students guide to approaching alternative sources. ed. Sarah Barber and Corinna M. Peniston-Bird. (London: Routledge, 2009). 1-13.

    [8] Barber, Beyond. 1-13.

    [9] Ibid.

    [10] Elaine Showalter, Sister’s choice: tradition and change in American women’s writing. (Oxford: Clarendon Press,1991). 169.

    [11] Ibid.

    [12] Tublety, Memory. 1-17.

    [13] Bill Niven and Stefan Berger, “Introduction” in Writing the History of Memory. ed Bill Niven and Stefan Berger, (London: Bloomsbury, 2014). 1-25.

    [14] Ibid.

    [15] Douglas Crimp, “Mourning and Militancy,” The MIT Press, Vol 51, (Winter 1989): 3-18.

    [16] Jennifer Power, Movement, Knowledge, Emotion: Gay activism and HIV/AIDS in Australia. (Canberra: ANU Press, 2011). 157.

    [17] Niven, Writing. 1-25.

    [18] Ibid.

    [19] Mary Fulbrook, “History Writing and ‘collective memory’” in Writing the History of Memory. ed Bill Niven and Stefan Berger, (London: Bloomsbury, 2014). 65-88; Power, Movement, 148.

    [20] The NAMES Project, “AIDS Memorial Quilt Background.” https://www.aidsquilt.org/about/medianewsroom, last accessed 11 April 2019.


  • Using Visual Sources: Photographs as historical documents

    Using Visual Sources: Photographs as historical documents

    Hannah Moase, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, has written the following blog entry on a photograph of the National Association Opposed to Woman Suffrage headquarters for the Introduction to Historical Research module. Hannah uses the photograph to discuss the benefits – and limitations – of these visual historical documents in helping us understand past societies. The module is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.

    The National Association Opposed to Woman Suffrage (hereafter NAOWS) was founded in 1911 and was a key organisation in America that fought against the women’s suffrage campaign. [1] With so much history focused on the women’s suffrage movement, it is important for historians to look at the other side of the argument and to look at those who were trying to stop women from being granted the right to vote. This blog will focus on a picture taken in 1911 of the outside of the NAOWS headquarters in New York and will argue how, when put into context, photographs such as this one can add to historians’ understanding of a topic. [2] This blog will also look at how this photograph adds to historians’ knowledge of the anti-suffrage movement as well as how it conveys ideas of masculinity and femininity during the early twentieth century.

    NAOWS headquarters, 1911. Courtesy of Routledge Historical Resources

    One of the ways that this photograph can be considered useful to historians is that it displays, through clothing, ideas of masculinity and femininity during this period. In the photograph, all the men are dressed very similarly. [3] They all appear to be wearing suit trousers under their long coats and are wearing similar styles of hat and shoes. [4] Interestingly, the coats that the men are wearing can be contrasted with the coat that the woman on the periphery of the photograph is wearing. [5] Leora Auslander argues that during this period clothing was designed to “obscure male sexual attributes” and to “highlight the feminine” attributes on a woman. [6] This can be seen in the photograph through the woman’s coat fitting closely around her waist – her feminine body shape can still be made out from under her coat. [7] In comparison, the coats that the men are wearing are baggier, straighter, and hide the male physique. [8] This shows how the photograph is useful to historians as it displays a direct contrast between how ideas of masculinity and femininity were displayed through clothing during this period.

    Another interesting aspect of this photograph is that all the people looking directly into the window of the building are all male. [9] Although the NAOWS was an all-female organisation, this photograph shows that the organisation still attracted male interest and support. Susan E. Marshall explains how many all-female anti-suffrage campaigns received male support, but that many men preferred to assist these campaigns from “behind the scenes through donations” rather than being actively involved. [10] The men appear to be reading information that had been placed in the window for passers-by to read and learn more about the anti-suffrage campaign. [11] Kirsty Maddux explains how the NAOWS used many ways to advertise the anti-suffrage campaign, even publishing their own official paper called Woman’s Protest. [12] This photograph can be used as evidence to show how the NAOWS’s use of advertising in the headquarters’ window was successful in attracting attention and potential support from passers-by. [13] It can be argued that this image is a good example of how photographs can give historians a different representation of a topic that they may not get from another type of source. Being able to see the men crowded around the headquarters’ window, all trying to read the information on display, allows historians to see for themselves an exact moment in the past where NAOWS’s use of advertising was successful. As Derek Sayer argues, this level of understanding, and being able to see an exact moment in the past, is something that is unique to photographic sources. [14]

    However, without context, what a photograph is representing can be misleading – as seen with this source. This photograph could be used to argue that there was a high level of interest and support for anti-suffrage among men. [15] However, when looking at the historiography of anti-suffrage campaigns in America it becomes clear that the anti-suffrage movement was highly supported by women and men. Many anti-suffrage campaigns, including the NAOWS, were run entirely by women. [16] Susan Goodier explains the NAOWS was set up to bring together other pre-existing female anti-suffrage campaigns from all over America. [17] Joe C. Miller argues that a common misconception about the suffrage movement is that it was a “fight of women against men”. [18] This was far from the truth. Many women were involved in the anti-suffrage movement, and at its peak in 1919 the NAOWS had 500,000 all-female members. [19] This shows that although the photograph suggests to the viewer that the anti-suffrage campaign was heavily supported by men, the historiography shows that many women also supported the movement. This photograph, then, could be potentially misleading as to who were the types of people supporting the campaign. Sayer highlights how historians need to be careful when using photographs as primary sources because without them being put into the correct context, they can be misinterpreted. [20]

    Peter Burke argues that another issue with using photographs as primary sources, one that can also be seen with this photograph, is that the identity of the photographer “is so often unknown”. [21] It is unclear who took this photograph and that leads to the question of why this photograph was taken and its intended purpose. [22] Both Burke and Penny Tinkler argue that photographers select what aspects of the world they want to portray. [23] Although it may appear that photographs are showing a true reflection of the past, this is not always the case, because photographs can easily be staged. These ideas can be applied to this photograph, and it must be considered why the photographer chose to capture the outside of the NAOWS headquarters. It is also interesting why the photographer chose to take the photograph when five men were looking into the window of the building. [24] The photographer could have potentially been trying to gain more support for the NAOWS by showing it was already receiving a high level of interest. 

    In conclusion, many different aspects that can be argued to be useful to historians can be drawn from this photograph. The image shows, through clothing, a direct contrast in how ideas of masculinity and femininity were displayed during this period. It also gives an insight into how the NAOWS successfully used advertising to promote the anti-suffrage campaign in its headquarters’ window. Finally, the photograph shows how, by drawing in an audience, an all-female anti-suffrage organisation like the NAOWS could succeed in gaining male support.  However, this photograph is also a good example to show that historians need to be careful when using photographs as primary sources. Without context, what a photograph is displaying and what that represents can be misleading and misinterpreted.

    NOTES

    [1] Susan Goodier, No Votes for Women: The York State Anti- Suffrage Movement (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2013), 64.

    [2] Routledge Historical Resources: History of Feminism “Men looking into the National Anti-Suffrage Association headquarters 1911,”   https://www.routledgehistoricalresources.com/feminism/gallery/men-looking-in-the-window-of-the-national-anti-suffrage-association-headquarters-national-association-opposed-to-woman-suffrage-was-active-at-the-state-and-national, last accessed 11 February 2019.

    [3] Photograph of men looking into the National Anti-Suffrage Association headquarters 1911.

    [4] Ibid.

    [5] Ibid.

    [6] Leora Auslander, “Deploying material culture to write the history of gender and sexuality: the example of clothing and textiles,” Clio. Women, Gender, History 40 (2014): 168.

    [7] Photograph of men looking into the National Anti-Suffrage Association headquarters 1911.

    [8] Ibid.

    [9] Ibid.

    [10] Susan E. Marshall, Splintered Sisterhood: Gender and Class in the Campaign against Woman Suffrage (Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1997), 72.

    [11] Photograph of men looking into the National Anti-Suffrage Association headquarters 1911.

    [12] Kirsty Maddux, “When Patriots Protest: The Anti- Suffrage Discursive Transformation of 1917,” Rhetoric and Public Affairs 7, no. 3 (2004): 284.

    [13] Photograph of men looking into the National Anti-Suffrage Association headquarters 1911.

    [14] Derek Sayer, “The Photograph: the still image”, in History Beyond the Text: A Student’s Guide to Approaching Alternative Sources ed. Sarah Barber and Corinna M. Peniston-Bird (Oxfordshire: Routledge, 2009), 55.

    [15] Photograph of men looking into the National Anti-Suffrage Association headquarters 1911.

    [16] Goodier, No Votes, 40.

    [17] Ibid., 64.

    [18] Joe C. Miller, “Never A Fight of Woman Against Man: What Textbooks Don’t Say about Women‘s Suffrage,” The History Teacher 48, no. 3 (2015): 437.

    [19] Ibid., 440.

    [20] Sayer, “The Photograph,” 59.

    [21] Peter Burke, Eyewitnessing: The Uses of Images as Historical Evidence (London: Reaktion Books, 2001), 22.

    [22] Photograph of men looking into the National Anti-Suffrage Association headquarters 1911.

    [23] Burke, Eyewitnessing, 23; Penny Tinkler, Using Photographs in Social and Historical Research (London: Sage, 2014), 12.

    [24] Photograph of men looking into the National Anti-Suffrage Association headquarters 1911.

  • Using Visual Sources: Saturday Night and Sunday Morning

    Using Visual Sources: Saturday Night and Sunday Morning

    Mark Cleverly, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, has written the following blog entry on the 1960 ‘New Wave’ film Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960) for the Introduction to Historical Research module. Mark discusses how the film reveals much about changing social attitudes in the ‘swinging sixties’. The module is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.

    The proverb ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’ is certainly a cliché in the modern era, but it superficially highlights the value that can be found in visual sources. If a still image can muster this level of inquiry, then what of film and motion picture? The power of feature film to influence the classes and disseminate national culture was highlighted in the 1936 Moyne Committee Report, with it concluding that “[t]he propaganda value of the film cannot be over-emphasized.” [1] Jeffrey Richards identifies that there are three stages of investigation needed to use film as evidence, at least from a historian’s perspective. Firstly, “how its themes and ideas are conveyed by the script”. [2] Secondly, why it was made. Thirdly, how it was received. This blog will follow this process in reference to Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (hereafter Saturday Night). Looking at the messages in the film, the cultural shift that guided its production, and the censorship that influenced what was released to the audience are all of great value to the historian wishing to understand how great a cultural change occurred during the 1960s.

    Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960) Directed by Karel Reisz Shown: Albert Finney

    In order to understand the messages within the film’s script it is first necessary to be aware of the British ‘New Wave’ of cinema, the socially realistic “slice of life” that gained great appeal during the sixties. [3] It worked against the more common ‘collective experience’ and favoured characters that were ‘unique’ within their social group, as was Arthur Seaton in Saturday Night. [4] The idea of the documentary film can also be linked with the ‘New Wave’ and thus Saturday Night, as it emphasised “working-class or ‘problem’ subjects”. [5] This was very different from the escapism that previously dominated the cinema. [6] The film itself follows an episodic narrative of key moments that develop the character of Arthur Seaton. [7] As Brian McFarlane notes, “he is aggressive, crudely heroic in the face of a system bent on grinding him down; and there is the gloss of adventure and danger on him despite the oppressiveness of the system.” [8] Arthur is an anti-social rebel against the system, possibly one to be idealised by the audience. [9] As the story develops it becomes clear, through Arthur’s interaction with an ‘old-timer’ of the working class, that Arthur is more a common example of the new breed of working-class male than the ‘unique specimen’ that would be indicated by the film’s opening narration. [10] The final scene corroborates with this idea of a shared working-class experience when it pans to a “couple in shot [that] are not Arthur or Doreen but another unknown and anonymous pair,” giving the impression that the film was not solely based on the experiences of one man but rather can apply to many within the labouring classes. [11] It must also be noted that the opening narration is given (to begin with) over shots of the whole factory floor, further reinforcing the idea that this story is universal and that any one of the men could live through it.

    Considering the realism of the ‘New Wave’ it is rather unsurprising that the film represents a very imbalanced dealing of consequences for the characters in the film. Arthur, who is someone who deserves to be taught a lesson, has very little in the way of comeuppance for his actions, whereas Brenda has to deal with an unwanted pregnancy as punishment for her deeds. [12] The film addresses this inequity of aftermath with only one line, “You’re getting off light, aren’t you?”. [13] Arthur Marwick reveals that the novel, from which the film was based, had a far more powerful feminist message that did not make the film’s final cut, perhaps due to censorship (the focal point of the next paragraph). Arthur’s beating and the successful termination of Brenda’s pregnancy were also left on the cutting-room floor, more evidence of outside influence impacting the message the film was attempting to promote. [14] In contrast to McFarlane’s suggestion that Arthur did not learn his lesson from the events of the film, the final scene shows his submission to the system that for the previous hour and a half he had rejected. [15] As Lay rightly concludes, Arthur accepts his fate, despite his throwing of a rock and promise to throw more seeming contrary to this concept. [16]

    Still from Saturday Night and Sunday Morning

    The censorship by the British Board of Film Censors (BBFC), as shown in the previous paragraph, in fact hindered the comeuppance of Arthur in order to comply with the four topics highlighted by the BBFC as an issue (those being language, sex scenes, the abortion, and the violent beating-up of Arthur). [17] Richards argues that John Trevelyan, Secretary of the BBFC from 1958 to 1971, allowed “adult films to deal with adult themes in a responsible fashion,” which suggests that the initial approach of Saturday Night in tackling these topics underlined by the BBFC was in no way responsible. [18] Unlike the film Alfie (1966), the danger of the abortion was not emphasized enough to comply with what the BBFC wanted, and therefore it did not appear in the release. [19] Contrary to what the censorship would suggest, the film itself was very different to what was produced in the previous decade; perhaps best shown by Sue Harper and Vincent Porter when they note, “[t]he differences between the structures of feeling in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning and those in The Blue Lamp indicate the widespread change that took place”. [20]

    As a visual source Saturday Night and Sunday Morning follows the ‘New Wave’ of films that dealt with issues of class and ‘problem subjects’ in a very different and contrasting way than had been done before. [21] It is for this reason it has great value in both understanding the social and cultural shifts that had occurred during this period, and seeing the impact of these shift on institutions such as the BBFC and on film. This is not unique to Saturday Night as the majority of films from the early days of the Silent era to the modern blockbusters from Hollywood shed light on contemporary issues and cultural changes. Furthermore, the meaning of older films can change as time passes, with new interpretations emerging from audiences, historians and critics alike. As stated by Richards “[i]t is a truism that films change their meaning with the passage of time, with changes in the nature and assumptions of the audience” and it is this that gives film as a visual source a self-renewing sense of place in historiography. [22]

    NOTES

    [1] Jeffrey Richards, “Film and Television: the moving image”, in History Beyond the Text: A Student’s Guide to Approaching Alternative Sources, ed. Sarah Barber and Corinna Peniston-Bird (London: Routledge, 2010), 74.

    [2] Ibid., 76.

    [3] Samantha Lay, British Social Realism: From Documentary to Brit-Grit (London: Wallflower Press, 2002), 5.

    [4] John Hill, Sex, Class and Realism: British Cinema 1956-1963 (London: British Film Institute, 1986), 138.

    [5] Julian Petley, “The Lost Continent”, in All Our Yesterdays: 90 Years of British Cinema, ed. Charles Barr (London: British Film Institute, 1986), 101.

    [6] Lay, British Social Realism, 62.

    [7] Andrew Higson, “Britain’s Outstanding Contribution to the Film: The documentary-realist tradition,” in All Our Yesterdays: 90 Years of British Cinema, ed. Charles Barr (London: British Film Institute, 1986), 93.

    [8] Brian McFarlane, “A Literary Cinema? British Films and British Novels,” in All Our Yesterdays: 90 Years of British Cinema, ed. Charles Barr (London: British Film Institute, 1986), 138.

    [9] Arthur Marwick, The Sixties: Cultural Revolution in Britain, France, Italy, and the United States, c.1958-c.1974 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 133.

    [10] Hill, Sex, Class and Realism, 155.

    [11] Ibid., 137.

    [12] Lay, British Social Realism, 72.

    [13] Marwick, The Sixties, 133.

    [14] Ibid., 131.

    [15] McFarlane, “A Literary Cinema?”, 139. See also; Lay, British Social Realism, 71.

    [16] Lay, British Social Realism, 73.

    [17] Marwick, The Sixties, 131.

    [18] Jeffrey Richards, “British Film Censorship,” in The British Cinema Book, ed. Robert Murphy (London: British Film Institute, 1997), 174.

    [19] Marwick, The Sixties: Cultural, 131.

    [20] Sue Harper, and Vincent Porter, British Cinema of the 1950s: The Decline of Deference (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 248.

    [21] Petley, “The Lost Continent”, 101.

    [22] Richards, “Film and Television”, 75.

  • Using Personal Sources: President Truman and the Cold War

    Using Personal Sources: President Truman and the Cold War

    Erika Hoffmann, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, has written the following blog entry on US President Harry Truman’s diary entries for the Introduction to Historical Research module. Erika demonstrates how these diary entries can be seen as the starting point for the Cold War paranoia that set in within the West in the post-Second World War era. The module is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.

    Harry Truman’s presidency was marked by the start of the Cold War. This blog will focus on two diary entries of Harry Truman, three months into his United States presidency. The diary entries were written on the 17th and 18th July 1945, following his attendance at the Potsdam conference alongside Joseph Stalin and Winston Churchill. Studying these diary entries not only gives us insight into Truman as an individual and as a leader but also gives us direct access into foreign relations and affairs at the time. We must question why Truman decided to write down his immediate thoughts regarding the Potsdam conference and discuss the limitations of these diary entries as a primary source. Despite some limitations, this blog will conclude that Truman’s diary entries offer an unprecedented perspective on the origins of the Cold War and relations between the leaders at the time.

    Diary entry of Harry S. Truman, 17 July 1945.

    As a personal source the diary entries of Truman are characterised by a sense of immediacy due to the fact they were composed whilst the post-Second World War conference was taking place. The Potsdam conference ran from the 17th July 1945 to the 2nd August 1945 and was held as a continuation of discussion from the previous conference in Yalta. In Biography and History Barbara Cain addresses the term ‘life writing’, which refers to as a variety of different styles of writing including diaries and letters. [1] She notes that ‘life writing [is] an umbrella term which could encompass all of these different forms of writing, connecting them to each other through their concerns with and revelations of individual lives.’ [2] This viewpoint can be considered true for the diary entries of Truman, as the reader is exposed to his individual impressions and experiences following his meeting with the British and Soviet leaders.

    Conversely, this can be considered a limitation as we are reading events from Truman’s point of view which could be subject to prejudice and bias due to pre-existing opinion as a result of differing ideologies and methods of leadership. Truman’s diary would prove a more valuable source if used in conjunction with other forms of documentation from the Potsdam conference, for example official notes taken at the meeting or diary entries/letters written by Stalin or Churchill. Mark S. Byrnes states that ‘one should not overestimate the importance of Truman’s personal views,’ adding, ‘Long-standing American suspicions of the Soviet regime created the context in which American leaders saw Soviet postwar actions.’ [3] In line with this viewpoint, it is also important to consider why Truman articulated his personal views and wrote diary entries conveying his immediate thoughts on these occasions.  It would seem that Truman wrote diary entries in order to register his thought processes due to the overwhelming nature of the Potsdam conference, in meeting two important leaders so soon into his presidency.

    The content of the diary entries reveals the nature of relations between the leaders at the time as Truman expresses a sense of optimism in handling Stalin as he writes, ‘I can deal with Stalin. He is honest but smart as hell.’ [4] According to Geoffrey Roberts ‘Stalin’s conversation with Truman was friendly enough although it did not match the bonhomie he had achieved with Roosevelt at Tehran and Yalta. But Truman was new to the job, was still feeing his way with Stalin and, unlike his predecessor, had not engaged in a long wartime correspondence with the Soviet leader prior to meeting him.’ [5] It is significant, then, that Truman uses the phrase, ‘we put on a real show’, because this suggests relations between himself and the Soviet leader were not as good as initially depicted. [6] This view is reiterated when Roberts states that Stalin claimed, ‘He wanted to cooperate with the US in peace as we had cooperated in war, but it would be harder.’ [7]

    In terms of foreign affairs, Nicole L. Anslover describes Truman’s anxieties regarding Potsdam, observing that:

    Perhaps the pressures of the job were finally getting to [Truman]; he had faced the early days with considerable aplomb, but the days and sometimes sleepless nights were certain to make him weary. Perhaps he was already trying to decide what impact the atomic bomb would make on the world, if indeed it was ready as soon as promised. Maybe it was his innate distrust of the Soviets that made him uneasy about meeting Stalin face to face. [8]

    From this historian’s perspective we can infer that Truman wrote a diary as a form of coping mechanism from the pressure he was experiencing as the US President. Moreover, Anslover suggests that relations between the Soviet leader and Truman were not based on a foundation of trust, as Truman also suggests in his dairy.

    Finally, Truman’s diary entries allow us to gain access into discussion and thought processes regarding key features in the origins of the Cold War. Truman references Japan, which in a wider context is linked to the atomic bomb ‘Manhattan’ that had been successfully tested in New Mexico on the 16th July 1945. [9] According to Marry A. Heiss and Michael J. Hogan, ‘In mid-July, the successful first test of America’s secretly developed atomic bomb undercut the Yalta rationale for wanting Moscow to join the war against Japan.’ [10] In conjunction with this, Craig Campbell and Sergey Radchenko state that on the 18th July Truman secured a promise from the Soviet leader to participate in the invasion of Japan. They note that ‘Truman’s pleasure in achieving this commitment revealed his immature view of relations with the Soviet Union: he wrote to his wife boastfully that he had gotten what he had come to Potsdam for on the first day, outfoxing a “smart as hell” Joseph Stalin.’ [11] Campbell and Radchenko address the fact that around the time of the Potsdam conference advances were made on the development of the atomic bomb and the situation regarding Japan, in which the Soviet Union were on-board with the US.

    Upon analysis of Truman’s diary entries during the Potsdam conference we are provided with a deeper insight of Truman’s position as leader of the US at the time. However, our understanding of Truman and his position in the origins of the Cold War would benefit from a comparative analysis of diary entries before and after the Potsdam conference, as well as official sources documenting proceedings involving Truman and the other leaders. It could also be beneficial to research any documentation taken by Stalin, Churchill and Clement Atlee during the Potsdam Conference and use that in comparison with Truman’s. Overall, despite their limitations, as personal sources the diary entries of Harry Truman provide valuable insight into foreign affairs at the start of the Cold War.

    Notes

    [1] Barbara Caine, Biography and History (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), 66.

    [2] Caine, Biography and History, 66.

    [3] Mark S. Byrnes, The Truman Years, 1945-1953 (London: Routledge, 2000), 12.

    [4] Harry Truman in a diary entry, 17 July 1945.

    [5] Geoffrey Roberts, Stalin’s Wars: From World War to Cold War, 1939-1953. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007), 274.

    [6] Harry Truman in a diary entry, 17 July 1945.

    [7] Harry Truman in a diary entry, 18 July 1945.

    [8] Nicole L. Anslover, Harry S. Truman: The Coming of the Cold War. (London: Routledge, 2013), 34.

    [9] Harry Truman in a diary entry, 17 July 1945.

    [10] Marry A. Heiss and Michael J. Hogan, Origins of the National Security State and the Legacy of Harry S. Truman. (Kirksville: Truman State University Press, 2014), 171.

    [11] Craig Campbell and Sergey S. Radchenko, The Atomic Bomb and the Origins of the Cold War (London: Yale University Press, 2008), 77.

  • Using Personal Sources: Charlotte Brontë’s letters

    Using Personal Sources: Charlotte Brontë’s letters

    Rachel Savage, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, has written the following blog entry on letters sent between author Charlotte Brontë and her friend Ellen Nussey, for the Introduction to Historical Research module. Rachel reveals how personal sources like this can be used to gain insight into the emotions of women living in the 19th century Britain. The module is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.

    Charlotte Brontё was born in 1816 and grew up in a society which compelled her to conceal her gender with the pseudonym Currer Bell in order to initiate her successful writing career. [1] The suppressive lives women experienced in the Victorian period led Charlotte to form a close relationship with Ellen Nussey. [2] It is the closeness of this relationship that will be explored in this blog, as some historians, such as Rebecca Jennings, believe their relationship to have been a romantic one. [3] The primary sources used to debate this question are two letters that Charlotte wrote to Ellen in 1836 and 1837. [4] The analysis of these letters is crucial to this question and the extent to which these letters are useful as a piece of historical research will also be discussed. 

    Copyright:The Morgan Library & Museum

    It is evident from these letters that Charlotte cared greatly for Ellen as there is an abundance of emotive language which expresses Charlotte’s honest feelings, for example,  “what shall I do without you?”, and  “I long to be with you.” [5] Rachel Fuchs and Victoria Thompson argue that these expressions are not evidence of a romantic relationship, as in this time period women would form very close bonds and their letters would contain the topics of “their joys, their loves and their bodies.” [6] Therefore, the intimate nature of these letters may be evidence of how two friends felt they could truly be honest with each other rather than being evidence of a romantic relationship. However, it is interesting to consider that Charlotte herself was concerned that her letters to Ellen were too passionate and might be condemned. [7] This suggests that their relationship was a romantic one. Arguably one of the most passionate sentences in the 1837 letter – “we are in danger of loving each other too well” – could suggest that Charlotte and Ellen were on the brink of a romantic relationship and were in fear of that relationship developing. Because Victorian women were expected to have no sexual desires, the idea that two women could be having a romantic relationship was completely unacceptable to society. [8] Thus, Charlotte and Ellen may have feared the consequences of a romantic relationship developing. 

    These letters further highlight the context of Victorian society in which men were perceived to be superior. This limited the possibility of Ellen and Charlotte ever living together, most clearly captured in the lines, “Ellen I wish I could live with you always”, and “we might live and love on till Death without being dependent on any third person for happiness.” [9] Here Charlotte refers to a third person being a man, as in Victorian society women were completely dependent on men economically as they were the sole earners and therefore for women in a same-sex romantic relationship they faced economic barriers when it came to establishing a home together. [10] Consequently, for “novelist Charlotte Brontё and her lifelong romantic friend, Ellen Nussey, a joint home remained an unattainable dream.” [11] The fact that Charlotte and Ellen desired to live with one another suggests a romantic nature to their relationship. This is further emphasised when Ellen’s brother Henry proposed to Charlotte in 1839; Charlotte considered accepting in order to live with Ellen, but ultimately she could not accept the proposal. [12] The mere fact that Charlotte considered the proposal suggests her immense desire to live with Ellen, although as she writes in her 1836 letter that she wanted to live with Ellen without the dependence of a third person. Subsequently, this may have led her to decline the proposal. [13] As well as this, Jennings suggests women feared “that marriage would limit their independence further and restrict their access to their female friends.” [14] This was certainly the case for Charlotte when she married Arthur Bell Nicholls in 1854, as he prevented Charlotte and Ellen meeting on occasions and he read all of Charlotte’s letters before she sent them to Ellen. [15] Furthermore, the significance of Charlotte rejecting Henry’s proposal in 1839 suggests that the desire to live with Ellen in 1836 was still a dream to which Charlotte clung.

    It is also important to illuminate the positives and limitations of using these letters to gain a true historical representation of Charlotte Brontё. The use of letters for historical research is helpful because, as Miriam Dobson suggests, they offer a true representation of the authors feelings. [16] It is unlikely that Charlotte would have been dishonest with Ellen especially as they had such a close relationship, whether it be romantic or not. However, Alistair Thomson argues that “every source is constructed and [a] selective representation of experience.” [17] Subsequently, although Charlotte is likely to be honest within this source she would also have been selective in what she wrote. This is especially significant to these letters. If Charlotte did have a romantic relationship with Ellen, she had to be careful how explicitly she expressed her love for her, for if someone other than Ellen had read these letters they could both face social exclusion from society. It is this selectivity that causes historians such as Jennings, Fuchs and Thompson to debate whether Charlotte and Ellen actually had a romantic relationship. Although, these letters offer a clear insight into the personal life of Charlotte Brontё and her thoughts and feelings, it is also important to remember that letters are a response to a previous interaction. [18] Consequently, these letters cannot be considered in isolation, as Ellen’s responses are also important to the creation of Charlotte’s image and presentation of herself. 

    In summary, by considering these letters historians can gain a deeper insight into the personal relations that Charlotte had and how she constructed her self-image to Ellen with the influence and constraints placed on her in society in which she could not openly express her love for Ellen. It is certainly clear that Charlotte would be honest and express her deepest thoughts and desires with Ellen. The question of Charlotte’s lesbianism is in no way conclusive, as more letters would need to be analysed especially those by Ellen. However, it is likely they may have desired a lesbian relationship, but the social constraints were too restricting to do so.

    Notes

    [1] Dinah Birch, “Charlotte Brontë”, in The Brontёs in Context ed. Marianne Thormählen. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 65.

    [2] Eugene Charlton Black, “Sexual Roles: Victorian Progress?”, in Victorian Culture and Society ed. Eugene Charlton Black. (London: Macmillan, 1973), 385.

    [3] Rebecca Jennings, A Lesbian History of Britain: Love and Sex between Women Since 1500 (Oxford: Greenwood World, 2007), 51.

    [4] Charlotte Brontё, “C.Brontё letters to Ellen Nussey, 1836”Alison Oram and Annmarie Turnbull, The Lesbian History Sourcebook: Love and Sex Between Women in Britain from 1780-1970 (New York: Routledge, 2001), 60-61.

    [5] Brontë, “C. Brontë”, 61.

    [6] Rachel G. Fuchs and Victoria E. Thompson, Women in Nineteenth-Century Europe (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 38.

    [7] Jennings, Lesbian, 53.

    [8] Fuchs and Thompson, Women, 40-41.

    [9] Brontë, “C. Brontë”, 61.

    [10] Jennings, Lesbian, 51.

    [11] Jennings, Lesbian, 51-52.

    [12] Jennings, Lesbian, 53.

    [13] Brontë, “C. Brontë”, 61.

    [14] Jennings, Lesbian, 53.

    [15] Jennings, Lesbian, 53-54.

    [16] Miriam Dobson, “Letters”, in Reading Primary Sources: The Interpretation of Texts from Nineteenth and Twentieth Century History ed. Miriam Dobson and Benjamin Ziemann. (New York: Routledge, 2009), 60.

    [17] Alistair Thomson, “Life Stories and Historical Analysis”, in Research Methods for History ed. Lucy Faire and Simon Gunn. (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2012), 102.

    [18] Dobson, “Letters”, 69

  • Using Personal Sources: Understanding women’s work in the First World War

    Using Personal Sources: Understanding women’s work in the First World War

    Rhea Nana, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, has written the following blog entry on a letter sent by Marie Martin, a nurse in the First World War, for the Introduction to Historical Research module. Rhea reveals how personal sources such as letters can be one of the only places to find certain insights into the emotions of those experiencing the war. The module is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.

    When analysing wars, immediate connotations come with it, such as suffering, separation and bad conditions. These connotations are expressed in the letters written from Marie Martin, the daughter of an Irish family. Marie had been sent away in 1915 to perform her duties of being a nurse in Malta during the First World War.  This blog will concentrate on a specific letter sent by Marie, explaining her life on a daily basis and also how letters, though selective, provide an insight of events and emotions. Ross F. Collins’ views on women in the First World War was that ‘they were needed in war work and many were employed, thousands as nurses’; this immediately highlights that women were a great asset to the war. [1] However, women rarely had the chance to speak out about how they were feeling when working in the war, unless it was in private, otherwise they would end up ‘in jail or receive great condemnation’. [2] This letter does have its limitations into reaching a full insight into the world of working war women, but the blog essentially exposes how women in the war managed to balance their duties and prove a great asset in the First World War.

    Letter from Marie Martin to her mother http://letters1916.maynoothuniversity.ie/item/5726

    This letter not only presents the struggles of a young woman carrying out her daily job as a nurse; it also illustrates how she tried to keep in contact with her mother. Her first few lines claim that ‘My last letter was the maddest letter I have ever written. I started it so often’. [3] This underlines that working women take on a lot of responsibility and perhaps do not have time for themselves. Susan R. Grayzel reinforces this argument as she claims that ‘nursing exposed many relatively sheltered young women to some of the war’s most visceral horrors, and in doing so, changed their lives’. [4] By describing the war as life changing it implies that possibly Marie did not know what she was getting herself into as she now had to sacrifice her own personal time to even write a simple letter to her mother.

    Therefore, this reveals that Marie could have been in a rush when writing the letter and so potentially selective about what she wrote, henceforth being a clear limitation too. Also, the fact that Grayzel uses the noun ‘horror’ to refer to the war could give the impression that she only wants to write about the positive aspects about being a nurse in the war.  Historians in turn can use this primary source by analysing the relationship between mothers and daughters in general. Barbara Caine finds that due ‘to a turn in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, young women were open to more opportunities resulting in daughters being more knowledgeable and established’. [5] Thus, this personal source instantly highlights that letters are able to provide information on the relationship between family members as well as an insight to how war duties were critical.

    The conditions in the war were constantly fluctuating and even though Marie was not serving on the front lines, she also had to experience the change in weather and the bloodied patients who were rushed in.  Marie was no longer in a state of relative stability; her life in Ireland was a complete contrast to her ‘ankles deep in water from the storm’ and ‘only a tent to eat our meals in’. [6] This stresses the idea that women in the war had to adapt and endure the conditions as much as men did, which in turn allows historians to recognise how women were taking on more responsibilities. This is reinforced by Gail Braybon who finds that it ‘revolutionised men’s minds and their conception of the sort of work of which the ordinary everyday women were capable’. [7] Consequently, women were illustrating that they were progressing in the war effort and almost seen as an equal by men.

    Furthermore, historians can focus on the usefulness of personal sources, especially when it comes to letters. As Miriam Dobson and Benjamin Ziemann recognise, ‘letters are praised for the human dimension they bring to history, allowing people to capture raw experiences of the past’. [8] This displays that Marie’s description of her time as a nurse was genuine and because this can be classed as a private letter, she is able to expose more detail. Additionally, in the past women ‘would only send letters to boost morale for men’ but during the world war ‘it was used for upholding social networks and keeping relations.’ [9] Thus, Margaretta Jolly demonstrates that women were able to use letters effectively, which not only showed that they were advancing in the war, but that letters were used for a social purpose too.

    The small details within this letter written by Marie only disclose a miniscule amount of true emotion and how effective a letter can be.  The analysis of the letter essentially offers an insight into the deeper meaning of what it meant to be a working woman in the war and the responsibility that they had to take on. The letter allows historians to find alternative conclusions to how women were treated in the war and the impact of disclosed information between family members. Overall, this work has presented that letters are a gateway to discovering more information than intended, and that emotions in letters do come across as genuine, especially in Marie’s case. Letters from women can be compared in order to validate their shared experiences of the war and are thus a great asset.

    Notes

    [1] Ross F. Collins, World War 1: Primary documents on events from 1914-1919 (ABC-CLIO, LLC, 2007), 285.

    [2] Collins, World War 1, 284.

    [3] Letters 1916-1923. ‘Letter from Marie Martin to her mother, Mary Martin, (November’) 1915. http://letters1916.maynoothuniversity.ie/item/5726

    [4] Susan R. Grayzel, Women and The First World War (Routledge, Taylor and Francis, 2002), 37.

    [5] Barbara Caine, ‘Letters between Mothers and Daughters’, Women’s History Review, no 233 (2015): 6.

    [6] Letters 1916-1923. ‘Letter from Marie Martin to her mother’.

    [7] Gail Braybon, Women Workers in the First World War (Routledge, 2012), 157.

    [8] Miriam Dobson and Benjamin Ziemann, Reading Primary Sources : The Interpretation of Texts from Nineteenth and Twentieth Century History ( Routledge, 2008), 61.

    [9] Margaretta Jolly, In Love and Struggle: Letters in Contemporary Feminism (Columbia University Press, 2008), 36.