It is always a proud day for us as tutors to see students we have nurtured since they were freshers step up onto the podium to receive their degrees. We love chatting to students after the ceremony to talk about their experience of the course, moved by the stories of students who have got there despite having to navigate difficult obstacles, catching up with students we taught several years ago, and hearing about what students are planning to do next. It is also great to tell students how much we appreciated some of their wonderful final year work, which hardly seemed possible when they were the ‘noisy’ group of post-covid freshers, over-excited by the new possibility of having actual human beings to learn history with.
Well done to everyone!
From left: Lee Sartain; Fiona McCall; Matt Heaslip; Tom Rodgers; Katy Gibbons; Brad Beaven; Mathias Seiter; Karl Bell; Jodi Burkett; Rob James; Mike Esbester
Here is a photo of the History team in their gowns waiting to process onto the stage. Having been to different universities, we all have different gowns, hats, sashes and hoods.
Many of our UoP history students take the opportunity to do voluntary work in one of the many museums in Portsmouth or nearby. Second-year UoP History Isobel Turtle started volunteering even earlier. Having decided to defer her university entry, she started working at the Isle of Wight shipwreck centre in 2021. It’s given her lots of unique opportunities to learn how a museum works: highlights have included seeing how a museum becomes accredited by the Arts Council, how grants and funding are secured and used, how exhibitions are created from scratch, working on databasing the collection, helping with visiting school groups and managing volunteers. She has worked her way up to being the Museum Supervisor, ready for when the museum moves to larger premises over the next year or two!
For the second year module, The Hidden Lives of Things, taught by Dr Katy Gibbons and Dr Mary Cannon, for their assessment, students have to produce an ‘object biography’ for a historical artefact. Isobel was really glad to be able to use the museum and her access to it to write an object biography of one of the most poignant artefacts in the collection: manillas, a form of commodity money in the form of bracelet used across West Africa and associated with the slave trade, which washed up in a shipwreck off the Island.
Peter DeWint (1784 – 1849), Shipwreck off the Needles, Isle of Wight, watercolour, Yale Centre for British Art
‘Manillas’ were a form of commodity money used across West Africa and are today most known for their associations with the transatlantic slave trade, however before becoming synonymous with it as well as after, manillas took on many different roles in a variety of contexts. The etymology of the word manilla suggests the term was picked up via interactions with the Portuguese and refers to their distinctive bracelet-like horseshoe shape.[1] Manillas are found in multiple variations of materials such as brass, bronze, copper as well as in different sizes, weights, and levels of embellishment based on their region of origin as well as their intended value and usage.[2] Accounts note the functionality of the shape of manillas, describing how indigenous West Africans would wear and carry them on their arms on their way to make smaller, everyday purchases but would otherwise be put into parcels if the size, weight or quantity of manillas called for it.[3] These 3 manillas appear to be of the ‘popo’ subtype due to their small size, smoothed, tapered ends and lack of decorative elements. This type was in use from the 17th to the early 20th century and was most commonly connected to French, English and Dutch traders.[4] Found in Chale Bay off the Southwest coast of the Isle of Wight, these manillas are held in Island’s Shipwreck Centre & Maritime Museum. The exact circumstances of how these particular manillas came to be in Chale Bay awaits further examination, but the 3-mile-long stretch of coastline itself is known for its vast array of shipwrecks. Initial but as yet unconfirmed opinions on the age of the wreck, clues such as the discovery of ivory tusks nearby as well as comparable ‘popo’ style manillas found on a confirmed 17th century Royal African Company shipwreck also in the English Channel suggest that the wreckage in which these manillas were found had links to West Africa during the era of the Transatlantic slave trade. [5]
Manillas Manillas found off the Isle of Wight Coast, Martin Woodward Collection, Shipwreck Centre & Maritime Museum, photograph taken by Isobel.
In their extended history, the term ‘manilla’ encompassed a broad range of bracelet-shaped metal rings which were used across West Africa for adornment in addition to functioning as money for a multitude of trade purposes. Despite this, historian Eugenia W. Herbert argues that African metal rings often do not conform to the ‘Western definition of fine art’, leading to a near total disregard for this use from Europeans. [6] Although their ubiquitousness in West Africa suggests manillas had probably been used for a very long time there, the European use of manillas as a commodity existed predominantly in relation to slave trading by the 18th century, making it all the more likely that these specific manillas ended up in shipwreck in Europe as a result of it. [7]
Illustration from Burgkmair, Natives of Guinea and Algoa, 1508 showing Africans wearing manillas.
From the 16th century onwards manillas became the principal currency of the slave trade with the prices of slaves expressed in terms of different types of manillas. By its peak, factories in Birmingham and Bristol were mass producing manillas for use exclusively in the slave trade, resulting in an erasure and overshadowing of the long and complex history in African custom. [8] This mass production further shows how interlinked wealth-building and the development of industrialisation in England was with the slave trade, and by extension its dependency on the economic crippling and cultural pilfering of West Africa. [9] While the use of manillas outlived the transatlantic slave trade, they continued to be used by Europeans mainly in colonial contexts throughout the 19th century, most notably in relation to the palm oil trade.[10] While their circulation was prohibited in the early 20th century, the use of manillas among indigenous populations, particularly in Nigeria or the so called ‘manilla belt’ where the palm oil trade was focused, continued in line with tradition and existed concurrently with the currencies of colonial powers.[11] This practice largely came to an abrupt and forced end 1949 when the Manilla Prohibition Ordnance was launched under British rule in the ‘manilla belt’, taking them out of circulation and making possession of a certain amount of manillas a punishable offence.[12] Over 32 million individual manillas weighing 2,464 tons were recalled and sold for scrap, with historian Eugenia W. Herbert noting the difficulty in knowing ‘what became of it all.’ [13] This process is argued to have been the final step toward full colonial control over the economy in this part of West Africa.[14]
A 16th century Benin Bronze depicting a Portuguese soldier with manillas in the background.
Manillas have long posed a methodological challenge to historians due to their visual and material variability as well as the difficulty in properly defining what fits into the category.[15] Due to this, careful consideration must be given to their individual materiality as well as the spatial context in which they are found in order to uncover their origins and stories. Additional help to pinpoint this is supplied through interdisciplinary research combining historical research with techniques like geochemical analysis, a practice which has resulted in definitive proof that the Benin bronzes are made of metals yielded from the melting down of manillas.[16] Considering the history of manillas, the historiography surrounding the subject of one of, if not the most, contentious issues concerning the present-day legacy of colonial violence and cultural theft is therefore made even more poignant.[17]
Furthermore, this analysis provides evidence of the melting down and reuse of manillas even prior to the majority of existing examples being sold for scrap, showing how the material through which people were bought and sold, and therefore one of the most harrowing legacies of human cruelty in history, lives on in culturally significant artworks as well as in an untold number of seemingly innocuous and everyday objects. These manillas however, continue to exist in their namesake form and are both an example of the violent legacy of the colonial process and a preservation of a West African tradition which was stamped out through it.
[1] Paul Einzig, Primitive Money: In Its Ethnological, Historical and Economic Aspects (Elsevier, 2014).
[2] Eugenia W. Herbert, Red Gold of Africa: Copper in Precolonial History and Culture (University of Wisconsin Press, 1984), 202.
[4] Tobias B. Skowronek et al., “German Brass for Benin Bronzes: Geochemical Analysis Insights into the Early Atlantic Trade,” Plos One, 18, no. 4 (April 5, 2023).
[11] Rolf Denk, The West African Manilla Currency: Research and Securing of Evidence from 1439-2019 (Tredition, 2021). Ben Naanen, “Economy within an Economy: The Manilla Currency, Exchange Rate Instability and Social Conditions in South-Eastern Nigeria, 1900-48,” The Journal of African History 34, no. 3 (1993): 446.
Third-year UoP student Brandon Lawson used his dissertation study to discover more about Asian history in the twentieth century, a topic he felt deserved more attention in historical studies. His dissertation was entitled Shadows of war: “Justice” and geopolitical tension caused by Japanese Imperialism on China, 1931-1945. Brandon’s supervisor was Dr Rudolph Ng.
The conquest of Chinese territory by the Imperial Japanese Army in the 1930s led to a horrific and deadly campaign across the land, decimating the lives of their victims and cities in their path across vast swathes of Asia. However the impact that the territorial expansion had on China society spanned many decades up to the modern era.
Bloody Saturday, Shanghai, 1937. This baby was one of the only human beings left alive in Shanghai’s South Station after its bombing by the Japanese. Photograph by Chinese photojournalist H. S. Wong.
The premise of the atrocities severely impacting Japan and China after the war was the fundamental basis of the dissertation. Political figures within China, such as Mao Zedong and Xi Jinping have been recorded as highly critical of the actions undertaken by the Japanese and follow the established stance amongst the majority of historians that the invasion was unjust and the Empire committed a myriad of atrocities and human rights violations. This is in contrast to a growing revisionist approach amongst many notable people in Japan who have attempted to change the accepted stance on the war to a larger reverence of the ancestors who were involved in it and a denial of the war crimes that were committed. This is in clear contrast to the Kono statement, which solidified the perspective of Japan at the time, as one of acknowledgement and opposition to the actions of the Imperial Japanese Army.[1]
A Chinese girl from one of the Japanese army’s ‘comfort battalions’, photo taken 8 August 1945, No. 9 British Army Film & Photographic Unit
Nevertheless, both stances show a clear bias in favour of their country historically. The truth seems to align more closely with that position taken by the government of the People’s Republic of China who subscribe to the orthodox notion of the Japanese actions as a war of aggression and heinous acts committed by their soldiers against Chinese civilians.
Unit 731, Human experimentation facility in Harbin, China, https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/unit-731-museum
From the very moment I began my dissertation in December, I noticed that information surrounding the atrocities was scarce: at Unit 731, a covert biological and chemical warfare research and development unit of the Imperial Japanese army that engaged in lethal human experimentation, many of the documents that would have detailed the events were destroyed. This made analysing the impact more difficult. Due to the fact, that understanding what occurred became increasingly challenging. However, this minor inconvenience was easy to overcome with the implementation of primary source material documenting the ordeal that the victims would have gone through, as well as the Khabarovsk trials, where twelve researchers from the facility were tried and found guilty. Although their sentences were light it was confirmation of the events that occurred.
During my research into the topic, it became clear that the stance taken by politicians and historians from Japan and China on the topic were heavily influenced by the views that dominated each society. Using the arguments put forth by historians from each country also creates the problem that there is the potential for their work to be hindered by their unconscious bias. This is important when analysing their perspectives, as it allows for deeper analysis of the validity of different arguments. Throughout the analysis of my dissertation, my supervisor, Rudolph Ng was fundamental in aiding my analysis of the atrocities, especially in establishing the effects that the atrocities had after the war.
I decided upon this particular dissertation topic due to my undergraduate studies being heavily focused on the twentieth century, with Asian history in the twentieth century missing from the topics learnt. It is important when deciding on a dissertation topic to implement previous topics in order to understand the context of your dissertation. However, the most important part of choosing a dissertation topic is to choose one that you have a deep interest in and can study for a prolonged period of time.
When approaching a dissertation, the most important factor to understand is, the usually underestimated, amount of time and effort that is needed to write a 10,000-word dissertation. Not only is the word limit high and takes a lot of time to write and edit, but the time needed to analyse and included primary and secondary sources is by far the most time-consuming and detail-heavy part of the project. Therefore, when approaching the project, it is important to leave plenty of time to address all aspects of the dissertation in full. Furthermore, when writing the dissertation, it is important to re-write the entire dissertation at least twice in order to corroborate and solidify arguments while also putting time and detail into the implementation and accuracy of references.
Writing the dissertation is the most enjoyable part of undergraduate study, as you will have complete control over the topic that you write about and the independence in research allows you to explore the topic in any way that you want. However, with a high amount of independence comes an understanding that needs to be developed at the very start of what your strongest way to work is and an awareness of trying to hone your topic down to create one point that encompasses your entire argument. At some points, it may feel overwhelming with no end in sight, but the more engrossed you get into the development of your argument the easier it becomes. Furthermore, the skills that you develop through completing the dissertation are invaluable and you will look back on it fondly. Overall, all you can do is try your hardest and as long as you do that then the grade that you will get will reflect your ability and allow you to look back on your study with no regret.
Good luck!
[1] The Kono Statement refers to a statement released by the Japanese Government on 4 August 1993 confirming the conclusion of a government study that found that the Japanese Imperial Army had forced women, known as comfort women, to work in military-run brothels during World War II.
Italy’s involvement in the persecution of Jews is often overshadowed by the horrors of Nazi Germany. Chanel Parker earned a first in her dissertation titled “Inscribed Otherness: The Role of Historical Integration on Italian Jews’ Experiences and Responses to the Leggi Razziali,” where she unveiled Italy’s historically understated role in anti-Semitic prosecution, and investigated how the country has perpetuated the idea of its benevolence towards Jews. Below, Chanel details the intricacies of her research, and discusses her experiences and advice for writing the dissertation.
Primo Levi’s haunting memoirs are among the few famous reminders of Italy’s involvement in Jewish persecution. In the overbearing shadow cast by Nazi Germany, Italy has been depicted as a beacon of morality, embodying a contrasting narrative of salvation, assimilation, and righteousness. Yet, beyond the harrowing confines of Auschwitz, Levi bore witness to the insidious effects of the Leggi Razziali– a set of racial laws imposed by Mussolini’s regime, to systematically marginalise and disenfranchise Italian Jews. He was one of many victims of Italian antisemitism.
Primo Levi as a child with his family in Rapallo, Italy, 1927, CDEC digital library
In my pursuit of underrepresented avenues in Holocaust history, I encountered the Italian racial laws for the first time. How interesting, I remember thinking, that Italy has been perceived historically as a safe haven for Jews – a lesser evil – despite its concurrent implementation of a racially discriminatory campaign independent of Nazi directives. Moreover, I found myself questioning if the substantial integration of Italian Jews into fascist society could have affected the ways in which they chose to navigate the sudden onset of antisemitism. Fascism was not anti-Semitic at its roots like Nazism; perhaps Italian Jews responded uniquely to this ideological shift. This is what ultimately inspired my dissertation question.
Deciding on my question was the most difficult part. Being notoriously indecisive, I allowed myself an anticipated period of hesitation before beginning my reading in late November. Two research challenges quickly became apparent. Firstly, the subject had garnered little attention in the English language until the revisionist period in the 1980s, when historians began to reassess prevailing ideas of Italian tolerance and leniency. This meant that many of the primary sources that I encountered were in Italian, and, even upon translation, often carried an underlying propagandistic tone. Secondly, Germany stands as the epicentre of major historiography on the Holocaust and Jewish experiences, meaning that the literature documenting Italian Jews’ experiences is notably limited in comparison to German Jews, or the global Jewish community.
Setbacks like this can leave you with your head in your hands– I spent consecutive days staring at the wall, I totally get it. However, if it is any reassurance, it is also these challenges that underscore the significance of your dissertation; the objective is to fill a gap in the historical knowledge, so approaching the topic from a unique and less-explored perspective is highly indicative of a successful piece of scholarly work. For me, the scarcity of English language literature on my topic also served to reaffirm the critical importance of minority studies; I knew that I had to responsibly portray the diverse experiences of Italian Jews under the Leggi Razziali, refraining from generalisations, and acknowledging the individuality of each perspective. This depth of research required the analysis of several diary entries, letters, and transcribed interviews, recorded in the works of leading scholars such as Renzo De Felice, Alexander Stille, and Joshua Zimmerman, among others.
What became evident from these diaries, was that the historical integration of Italian Jews resulted in distinct traumas and responses when the Leggi Razziali was implemented in 1938, emphasising the importance of assessing Italy’s history independently from the wider Jewish experience. Italian Jews’ widespread prevailing hope in Mussolini, and their struggle to relate to the Jewish aspect of their identity, influenced the ways in which they reacted to anti-Semitic legislation, causing many fascist Jews to comply with measures, with the intention of reasserting their loyalty to the regime. Italian Jews’ coping mechanisms also exhibited considerable variation depending on socio-economic status. Notably, lower-class Jews experienced comparatively less impact, primarily due to their pre-existing financial impoverishment, strong religious adherence, and infrequent affiliation with fascist ideologies. Moreover, feelings of isolation, confusion, and betrayal were particularly heightened for Italian Jews, since antisemitism had not always been a part of Italy’s fascist state, which was not the case for Germany, like other European countries.
Cartoon published in “La Difesa della Razza”, 15 November 1938 on the anti-semitic laws, Biblioteca Nazionale Braidense, Milan. It states that Jews were prohibited from military service, acting as guardians, owning defence interests, owning land or buildings, and from having Aryan domestics in their households. Foreign Jews were to be expelled. Jews were prohibited from all aspects of government, banks, insurance companies and universities.
While there is so much to be said about Italian-Jewish experiences, the most important conclusion to be drawn is that the unique traumas of Italian Jews do not, of course, diminish the unique traumas of Jews of other nationalities; each community’s history is valid, and deserving of recognition. I placed significant stress on myself to address every facet of my topic comprehensively, however the reality is that the constraints of a 10,000 word limit inevitably leave some areas unexplored. While this realisation can be disheartening, it is essential to focus on delivering a thorough and coherent analysis within the given parameters. Refine your arguments, prioritise your most crucial points, and cut out anything that you don’t need- you will be completely fine.
I wish I considered myself equipped to give advice such as “start early,” and “do a little bit every day,” but that has never been my work style. If you thrive on the adrenaline of a last-minute deadline like I do, then ensuring that you have a rich repository of detailed notes and references is paramount. As you deepen your understanding of your topic through extensive reading, you are unknowingly laying the foundations that will enable the natural and effortless articulation of your argument at a later date. I sincerely can’t write well without extreme pressure, so this is what completely saved my degree. More importantly, cliché as it is, ensuring that your topic ignites a passion within you is crucial for creating compelling work. The dissertation is a lengthy process, but it can be incredibly academically rewarding; aim to approach it in a way that ensures you can reflect on it with satisfaction, not resentment. Choose a topic that really interests you, and I promise that it’s not as scary as it seems.
For the second year module, The Hidden Lives of Things, taught by Dr Katy Gibbons and Dr Mary Cannon, for their assessment, students have to produce an ‘object biography’ for a historical artefact. Francesca Raine chose to look at one of the ten surviving musical instruments found on the Mary Rose and what it can tell us about how sixteen-century people experienced and enjoyed music.
Photograph of Shawm/Doucaine found on the upper deck of the Mary Rose, Francesca Raine.
In 1545 the Mary Rose, a Tudor carrack, sank during a confrontation with the French fleet in Portsmouth.[1] The unusual underwater conditions preserved a unique snapshot of everyday Tudor life, revealed in the 20th century, despite earlier excavation attempts in 1545 and 1836-1840.[2]
Among the artefacts recovered in the 1970’s were ten musical instruments, the first being a shawm, also known as a doucaine, a double-reeded instrument which is the ancestor of the oboe.[3] The shawm was found on the upper deck of the ship, dismantled inside a fragmentary wooden case.[4] Traditionally, historians have neglected the value offered by such examples of material culture, preferring written sources as the ‘blood’ for early modern history.[5] Using Harvey’s three-step method, this essay will unpick and evaluate the layers of significance offered by the shawm, in early modern and more recent contexts, leading to new interpretations, understandings and narratives.[6]
Harvey prioritises the description of an object as the first step of analysis.[7] The components are made from complimentary boxwood and cherry wood, with a complete cylindrical, brass interior.[8] Despite the lack of a flared bell the instrument is remarkably intact, unlike its counterparts such as the tabor. To an extent the position of the shawm within a case, accounts for the quality of the condition, as it would have protected the object during the sinking and provided another layer of shelter underwater. However, it also implies it was an appreciated possession. There are little traces of damage for an item made to be exercised regularly. Evidence of a case shows consideration was taken to store the instrument when it was not used, reflecting the personal value placed on the object. The design is also useful for indicating a level of care during the production as well as the consumption. Mixing a dark and light wood adds a decorative element, an unnecessary touch by the creator. This suggests there is an aspect of pride and attentiveness undertaken during manufacture. No makers are imprinted, consequently limiting our understanding of how this instrument came on board or who made it. However, the shawm does significantly reveal unique emotive understandings that can be communicated through the physical and visual dimensions written sources may not provide.
Engraving of musicians at a wedding, by German artist Sebald Beham, 1537
During the Tudor period, music was a prominent feature of society well documented in non-musical sources such as administrative records; yet historical texts have filtered music into the ‘briefest mention’.[9] The discovery of the shawm has provided insights into this neglected area through experimental archaeology. Playing of a replica reveals a strong bass sound was produced due to the cylindrical bore and that it required a finger stretch ‘not comfortable to achieve’.[10] This is useful for understanding how the shawm was played and sounded, and that there was a competent skill level required, implying the owner was an experienced musician. Prior to the discovery, historical knowledge on this instrument was dependent on visual and written means. Tinctorius for example, described that doucaines had the range of a ninth, yet the Mary Rose reproduction shows that they covered an octave.[11] This finding is significant because it changes historical understandings and develops the history the shawm.[12] Furthermore, Blockley notes that replications engage with different senses, therefore the shawm provides a unique auditory and tactile dimension.[13] These distinctive characteristics offer a closer understanding to human behaviours, in this example musical ability and expressions of creativity in Tudor England.
Pinturicchio, detail from The Coronation of Pope Pius III, Piccolomini Library, Duomo, Siena (1509)
Riello highlights the importance of an interdisciplinary approach when analysing artefacts.[14] This methodology is valuable to understanding the significance of instruments on board and the role they played. A Dutch painting shows a shawm, tabor and pipe used in conjunction to produce music.[15] This introduces the prospect that that there may have been a band on board, however, it should be noted this underlines potential uses only. This is significant as it infers music was an organised event, used for strengthening social bonds and promoting leisure. This dispels narratives that everyday Tudor life had little time for entertainment. Demonstrated here, the shawm has brought musical, scientific and historical disciplines together to expand historical knowledge.
Many objects on the upper deck did not survive which proved frustrating and troublesome for historians because free time and living arrangements would have been organised there.[16] Consequently, the presence of this instrument is significant because it provides a rare insight into ship life that were otherwise unobtainable. The location also reveals that leisure was not kept to strict social boundaries and was shared in communal areas. This shows that society wasn notas highly regulated as often portrayed. Consequently, the shawm is valuable for understanding expressions of leisure outside the elite Tudor classes. Although it cannot tell us about responses to music or what songs were played it does successfully answer gaps in recreational history.
It is important to study the life of an object because this can reveal different ‘contexts, functions and associations’.[17] Following the shawm’s discovery, it went under a lengthy and complicated conservation process (involving chemical baths, vacuuming, freeze-drying), suggesting there was an initial significance recognised to protect it.[18] It now resides in the Mary Rose Museum on display. Museums provide a multitude of services, from preservation and collection to interpretation and education.[19] The has a new dual purpose; to serve archaeological and historical needs whilst balancing public requirements. The public rely on museums for discovery and to experience emotive connections to history, whereas historians utilise the space for reinterpreting the relevance of Tudor history in the present, tracing the shawm’s ongoing significance and legacy. As with any source, historians need to be wary of bias, however when studying the shawm’s current location they should also consider the influence of stakeholders such as trustees and sponsors influencing the object’s display. Consequently, the modern context poses risks to distortion or misrepresentation, through balancing these non-academic and academic needs. Studying the chronological life cycle of this object is valuable for reflecting different societal needs and functions in the sixteenth and twentieth centuries. It demonstrates how objects can be repurposed and in turn need to be re-contextualised to continue understanding the historical and socio-cultural significances.
The shawm’s significance for revealing early modern human experience and contemporary values cannot be underestimated through its ability to answer gaps in historians’ knowledge. It uniquely manages to capture a cross-study analysis of everyday Tudor life, revealing socio-cultural and historical significances. Additionally, studying the biography of the shawm has revealed a longer and more intricate history.
For another post by Francesca, on Henry VIII’s navy, click here
[1] Mary Anne Alburger, “The ‘fydill in fist’: Bowed instruments from the Mary Rose”, The Galpin Society Journal, vol. 53, (2000): 12.
[2] Mary Anne Alburger, “The ‘fydill in fist’: Bowed instruments from the Mary Rose”, 12.
[3] Julie Gardiner, “The “Good Shippe” Mary Rose: An Introduction”, in Before the Mast: Life and Death on Board the Mary Rose, edited by Julie Gardiner, (Portsmouth: The Mary Rose Trust Ltd., 2005), 12; Frances Palmer, “Musical Instruments from the Mary Rose: A report on work in progress”, Early Music, vol. 11, 1, (1983): 54.
[4] Jeremy Montagu, “Dance and Skylark: Musical Instruments”, in Before the Mast: Life and Death on Board the Mary Rose, edited by Julie Gardiner, 226-249, (Portsmouth: The Mary Rose Trust Ltd., 2005), 236.
[5] Laura Sangha and Jonathan Willis, “Introduction: Understanding early modern primary sources”, in Understanding Early Modern Primary Sources, edited by Laura Sangha and Jonathan Willis, 1-14, (London: Taylor & Francis Group, 2016), 1.
[6] Karen Havey, “Introduction: Practical Matters’, in History and Material Culture: A Student’s Guide to Approaching Alternative Sources, edited by Karen Harvey, 1-23, (London: Taylor & Francis Group, 2013), 15.
[8] Jeremy Montagu, “Dance and Skylark: Musical Instruments”,236-237.
[9]John Milsom, “Music, Politics and Society”, in A Companion to Tudor Britain, edited by and Norman L. Jones and Robert Tittler, 492-508, (Williston: John Wiley & Sons, 2004), 494; Burton W. Peretti, “Music: The Composed Sound”, in History Beyond the Text: A Students Guide to Approaching Alternative Sources, edited by Sarah Barber and Corinna Peniston-Bird, 89-104, (Milton: Taylor & Francis Group, 2008), 89.
[10] Jeremy Montagu, “Dance and Skylark: Musical Instruments”, 239-240.
[11] Jeremy Montagu, “Dance and Skylark: Musical Instruments”, 240.
[12] Georgio Riello, “Things that shape history: Material culture and historical narratives”, in History and Material Culture: A Student’s Guide to Approaching Alternative Sources, edited by Karen Harvey, 24-46, (London: Taylor & Francis Group, 2013), 25.
[13] Marion Blockley, “Archaeological Reconstructions and the Community in the UK”, in The Constructed Past: Experimental Archaeology, Education and the Public, edited by Philippe Panel and Peter G. Stone, 15-32 (London: Taylor & Francis, 1999), 16.
[14] Georgio Riello, “Things that shape history: Material culture and historical narratives”,33.
[15] Jeremy Montagu, “Dance and Skylark: Musical Instruments”, 230.
[16] Julie Gardiner, “The “Good Shippe” Mary Rose: An Introduction”, 229
[17] Karin Dannehl, “Object Biographies: From Consumption to Production”, in History and Material Culture: A Student’s Guide to Approaching Alternative Sources, 2nd ed., edited by Karen Harvey, 171-186, (London: Taylor & Francis Group, 2013), 173.
[18] Mary Anne Alburger, “The ‘fydill in fist’, 14.
[19] Susan Mancino, “The Museum Profession: Protecting and Promoting Professional Commitments”, Curator, vol. 58, 2, 92016): 141.
Most histories of polar exploration focus on the biographies and psychologies of heroic, driven individuals. Matthew Voyce’s UoP BA history dissertation, Polar Exploration and the Imperial Imagination 1845-1922: Race, Science and Competing Approaches, sought to go beyond this to understand the complex ways in which these events connected with the broader social influences and ideas of their time, including imperialism, and the impetus towards scientific advancement. Matthew’s supervisor was Dr Matt Heaslip. Below Matthew writes about his approach to the topic, and his experience of the process of writing the dissertation.
Captain Scott’s grave is a lonely place. A solitary cross, hastily nailed together from pine board, watches the endless, unsettling Antarctic plain from its home on Observation Hill. This isn’t where Scott is buried. He’s buried underneath the drifting snow and shifting ice of the Ross Ice Shelf, forever part of the continent.
Of course, Scott wasn’t the first man to die during one of the myriad British expeditions to both the north and the south pole. He knew better than most the risks he was running, the suffering he would have to endure. So why did he, and countless others, go?
This is ultimately what my dissertation is about. Traditional orthodoxy places the primary motives for polar exploration in something deeply ingrained within these explorers, a certain attraction to the desolation of the poles. I believe there is some truth to this. I do not dispute the drive and ferocious bravery of every soul who ventured their lives for these voyages. But they were human. They lived in complex social systems riddled with doubt and contradictions. Focus solely on the forces at play within the minds of explorers is simply not a satisfactory answer when trying to understand why generations of Briton’s gave so much in pursuit of the poles.
When I began reading in October, two things were immediately obvious. Firstly, historians have barely scratched the surface of what polar study has to offer to the study of history. The vast majority of polar histories are biographical, choosing to portray expeditions not as part of the fabric of their era but as stand-alone curiosities. Secondly, those historians who had combined polar exploration with the broader strands of British society (naturally) did not agree with each other. One strand saw polar exploration as a product of imperial thought, and all its associated evils. The other champions scientific advancement and industrial impetus.
I knew my dissertation needed to address both of these points. It had to try to tie polar expeditions into the prevailing themes and concerns of the Victorian and Edwardian eras, whilst acknowledging the ongoing debate between imperial drive and scientific determination. After what felt like a lifetime agonising about how I could manage this in only 10,000 words, I decided to compare the two competing debates. As these two themes connected polar exploration the broad streams that made the zeitgeist of the time, I reasoned that by comparing the ongoing debate I could both demonstrate analytical skills and contextual knowledge.
But here the methodological reasoning ended. As I began to read more and more, I understood less and less. It was like drowning in paradox. The concepts I was dealing with were even more complicated than I first realised. Elements such as social Darwinism and British morality kept figuring in both the secondary literature and primary sources. Eventually, I was trying to grapple with the twisting contradictions that propped up British society. It was a lot.
But luckily, I had help. My dissertation supervisor, Matt Heaslip, was always available for questions, pointing me in the right direction on subjects such as Pax Britannica. I also had my teaching to fall back on. Over my three years of undergraduate study, I had studied the British Empire in depth, particularly its seedy underbelly. Because of this I already knew something of the driving forces underneath the empire and such I had a launch pad into an incredibly dense and difficult subject. That, I think, is the key. It is important to fall back onto what you know and have confidence in that base rather than fixating on what you don’t know. Only after I learnt this could I begin to dive into the substance of my dissertation.
What I found took me by surprise. The dual forces of racialised thinking and scientific endeavour were littered throughout the primary sources. You could see it in the press, you could see it in expedition publications. Underneath everything there was a perplexing blend of pseudoscience that sought to justify the human and financial expense undertaken by the likes of Scott. It was a peculiar blend of social influences that seemed to take on another dimension every time I took another look at my evidence. Explorers themselves didn’t necessarily embody originality. Yes, demonstrated bravery that is vanishingly rare in this world. But instead of being pulled to the poles by internal personalities they were pushed by the conditions of Britain at the time.
The true balance between internal drive and external pressure is difficult to understand and would require far more than 10,000 words. But looking back it is clear to me that these men themselves were products of their time in the most Victorian way. I do worry that perhaps this is unnecessarily dismissive of Scott, Shackleton and company. After all, they risked everything the most hostile environment of all, and someone doesn’t do that with extraordinary determination. But I also realise that by showing the conflicted nature of both explorers and society alike we achieve a fuller and more complete picture of this imperial niche.
I’m not ashamed to say I loved writing my dissertation. It was my first foray into history not shaped by an essay question of characterised by casual interest. It was also difficult. It was frustrating and at times agonising. But at the end of the day, I believed in my ability and knew I had 10,000 words to write and no amount of giving up would get them written. My advice to anyone reading this is three-fold. Firstly, work to your strengths. You cannot build without foundations. And secondly, keep ploughing on no matter what. You might only manage twenty minutes a day, but it all counts as progress even when it doesn’t feel like it. And lastly, try not to lose the passion. Watch films, read stories and keep that interest in your topic ignited. If you manage all three, then you will succeed no matter what gets thrown at you.
