Tag: visual sources

Sinister Stalin, the Cold-War Octopus

The cartoonist David Low’s depiction of Stalin as an octopus, published in 1948, sits within a long-standing tradition of monstrous, dehumanised depictions of political enemies. Octopi in particular have been used in the past to represent the sinister ambitions of Prussia, Britain, France, Nazi Germany, America and the oil industry, amongst others. But as second-year UoP History student Georgia Hutton explains, Low’s octopus critiques both Soviet policy and contemporary Western-bloc attitudes towards it. Georgia wrote this piece for the second-year module, Danger! Censorship, Power and the People.

A cartoon by David Low for the Evening Standard, on 15 April 1948, reveals a great deal about the British, contemporary Western, perspective of the USSR during the early development of the Cold War hostilities.[1] The “Grand Alliance” of 1945 had crumbled into a polarised Europe by 1948.[2] Whilst it is important to note that cartoons generally exaggerate the truth for comedic purposes, the image by Low provides insight into messages a contemporary audience was exposed to regarding the USSR: Britain’s fear of Soviet expansion; the USSR’s policy of isolationism and perceived ‘Social Utopia’ alongside the years of ‘anti-red hysteria’.[3]

Stalin in 1949

Low’s decision to place Stalin’s facial features on a large cartoon ‘octopus’ statue is significant as it provides an acknowledgement that the USSR was pursuing a policy of expansionism, whilst illustrating a negative assessment of this. Low creates the metaphor of the Russian spread of communism across Europe by portraying Stalin as an octopus with a ‘tentacle like’ grip that he warns with text at the bottom of the statue is “REACHING ALL OVER THE WORLD [sic]”.[4] Stalin viewed “Eastern Europe as vital to Russia’s security” and consequently post-war focused on the creation of the Eastern Bloc to “prevent any nation in the region from developing close economic or military ties with the West”.[5] Longden stresses that Britain was inherently fearful of the prospect of Soviet expansion; foreign Secretary Ernst Bevin knew post-war Britain was too weak to protect Europe or themselves from the Soviet threat.[6] In addition, the timing of the cartoon is significant as it was published less than two months after the Prague Coup of 1948 which saw “Czechoslovakia’s slide into Communist rule”.[7] The Coup of February 1948 alongside the post-war swing towards the left in countries such as Italy and France persuaded the West that political change was “being orchestrated from Moscow”.[8] Schwartz notes that by January 1948 the Foreign Office had launched an anti-communist propaganda campaign to stop the USSR’s influence infiltrating Britain.[9] Although Low’s depiction of Stalin trying to extend its influence was not direct government propaganda, its view of the USSR was one shared with Whitehall.

An octupus was again used an symbolic of Soviet aggression in 1980

Low highlights the idea throughout his cartoon that Russia was pursuing a policy of secretive and hostile post-war isolationism in the large wall that runs across the middle of the image separating the two sides of the cartoon. This draws parallels to the notorious speech by Winston Churchill in 1946 claiming “’an iron curtain’ had descended across the Continent”.[10] Robert Dallek highlights that “Stalin … couldn’t accept that his allies meant what they said about post-war goodwill”.[11] As a result, Russia fell into a policy of hostile isolationism and bitter distrust of the West. However, whilst the wall is blocking what Low labels “SIGHTSEERS [sic]” a figure with resemblance to Stalin is seen looking over the wall into the other side. [12] This suggests that the USSR, whilst isolating themselves from the rest of the world, were still interested in the politics of, and how they were perceived by, the West. Ian D. Thatcher states that “the world of Soviet politics was noted for hidden motivations” which links to Low’s depiction of the USSR hidden behind the wall.[13] Low titles his piece, “PRETTY GOOD SOVIET PROPAGANDA, I SAY [sic]”.[14] The Soviet Union’s effort to maintain the illusory image of “Social Utopia” is referenced in Low’s cartoon on the entrance door of the wall.[15] Low makes reference to the Western view that there was instead “MUDDLE & MESS IN THE USSR [sic]”.[16] Levering suggests the USSR recognised their technological inferiority and would produce propaganda accordingly insisting “the West was preparing to attack the Soviets in order to destroy their way of life”.[17] Through Low’s imagery we are exposed to the contemporary views regarding Russia’s secrecy and policy of isolationism, which in turn are used to promote a negative suspicious view of the Soviets.

In his cartoon Low presents the ‘anti-red hysteria’ surrounding ideological differences in his descriptions of Stalin. Although as Erik Goldstein states, “geo-politics even more than ideological rivalry have shaped British reactions to Russia”, there was an obvious stark contrast in ideology between the Communist “Soviet camp” and the Western “imperialist camp.[18] .[19] Low plays on the differences between the two ideologies by his use of juxtaposing statements on the base of the statue. Underneath the statue starting with the title “SINISTER STALIN [sic]” follow three more statements: “FRIGHTFULLY CLEVER, DREADFULLY POWERFUL, AWFULLY EFFICIENT [sic]”.[20] The positive adjectives link back to the idea of ‘social utopia’ whilst the contrasting negative adverbs highlight the ‘anti-red hysteria’ created by the West. Despite this, However, Low also acknowledges the hysteria generated by expansionism and contrasting ideologies by the inclusion of a man labelled “ANTI-RED HYSTERIA [sic]” who is building the statue where both ideas were presented.[21] It is important to note that the Evening Standard was a staunchly conservative paper. Mark Hampton argues that while Low, as he stressed in his autobiography, had “complete freedom in the selection and treatment of subject-matter”, his cartoons often met with a “hostile reception” from its readers, reaction he was perhaps both evoking and provoking with his direct reference to the subject matter of hysteria[22] Through Low’s descriptions of Stalin we are exposed to how he perceives the ‘anti-red hysteria’ is being created.

Low’s cartoon provides us with great insight into the British perspective of the USSR in the early years of the cold war through the use of imagery. Low highlights the British fear of Soviet expansion through the depiction of Stalin as an octopus following the creation of the Eastern Bloc including the recent Czechoslovakian Communist coup. In addition, Low highlights how the British perceived the Soviet policy of hostile isolationism through his imagery of the giant wall separating the cartoon despite Stalin being able to see over. This suggests that, whilst isolating themselves from the rest of the world, the USSR were still interested in how they were perceived by the West. Finally, Low’s description of Stalin provides us insight into the ideological differences of the cold war suggesting ‘anti-red hysteria’ was created both by expansionism and differing ideology.

[1] David Low, ‘Pretty good Soviet propaganda, I say’, Evening Standard, 15 April 1948. DL2866, British Cartoon Archive, University of Kent.

[2] David Reynolds, From World War to Cold War: Churchill, Roosevelt, and the International History of the 1940s (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 267.

[3] Lowell H. Schwartz, Political Warfare Against the Kremlin: US and British Propaganda Policy at the Beginning of the Cold War (Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009), 209.

[4] David Low, ‘Pretty good Soviet propaganda, I say’

[5] Ralph B. Levering, The Cold War: A Post-Cold War History (Hoboken: John Wiley & Sons, 2016), 21.

[6] Martin A.L. Longden, “From ‘Hot War’ to ‘Cold War’: Western Europe in British Grand Strategy, 1945-1948”, in Cold War Britain 1945-1964: New Perspectives ed. Michael F. Hopkins, Michael D. Kandiah and Gillian Staerck (Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 116-117.

[7] Michael D. Kandiah, “The Conservative Party and the Early Cold War: The Construction of ‘New Conservatism’” in Cold War Britain 1945-1964: New Perspectives, ed. Michael F. Hopkins, Michael D. Kandiah and Gillian Staerck (Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 33.

[8] Longden, “From ‘Hot War’ to ‘Cold War’”, 117.

[9] Schwartz, Political Warfare, 19.

[10] Reynolds, From World War, 249; Jenks, British Propaganda, 32.

[11] Robert Dallek, The Lost Peace: Leadership in a Time of Horror and Hope (New York: Harper, 2010), 66. Quoted in Levering, The Cold War, 20.

[12] David Low, ‘Pretty good Soviet propaganda, I say’

[13] Ian D. Thatcher, “From Stalin to Gorbachev: Reflections on the Personality of Leaders in Soviet History”, Contemporary European History 19, no.1 (2010): 96.

[14] David Low, ‘Pretty good Soviet propaganda, I say’

[15] Schwartz, Political Warfare, 209.

[16] David Low, ‘Pretty good Soviet propaganda, I say’

[17] Levering, The Cold War, 32.

[18] Erik Goldstein, “Britain and the Origins of the Cold War”, in Cold War Britain 1945-1964: New Perspectives ed. Michael F. Hopkins, Michael D. Kandiah and Gillian Staerck (Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 7.

[19] Robert C. Tucker, The Psychological Factor in Soviet Foreign Policy (Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation, RM-1881,1957), Quoted in Schwartz, Political Warfare, 14.

[20] David Low, ‘Pretty good Soviet propaganda, I say’

[21] David Low, ‘Pretty good Soviet propaganda, I say’

[22] David Low, Low’s Autobiography (New York: 1957); Mark Hampton, “Inventing David Low: Self-Presentation, Caricature and the Culture of Journalism in Mid-Twentieth Century Britain”, Twentieth Century British History 20, no. 4 (2009): 494, 500.

June 10, 2020
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.

May 21, 2019
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.

May 6, 2019
History & practice – images of wellbeing

In this post, Mike Esbester discusses how his research into the history of communicating health and safety messages is linked to a current initiative to promote wellbeing and better awareness of mental health at work and beyond.

‘History is more or less bunk’. So Henry Ford claimed – rather unfairly, I would suggest. There’s a great deal to be gained from studying and understanding the past, something historians and others have been pointing out for a very long time. I’m not going to rehash that here, other than to note that in addition to the analytical and critical skills gained from engaging meaningfully with the past, the insight it brings is paramount. This is demonstrated by the existence of organisations like History & Policy, which connects historians and policymakers, and is why people and organisations regularly look to the past: to better understand the present.

1981 British Safety Council poster, making use of a shock approach.

Just one way this comes out of my own research is demonstrated currently in the British Safety Council’s ‘Images of Wellbeing’ poster competition. The competition – which runs until 19 October 2018 – is open to all, and asks for either a static or moving design on any interpretation around the theme of ‘wellbeing.’ There are 2 age categories: under 21s and 21 and over, with a prize of £500 and runner-up prizes of £250. In addition, the winning entries will be exhibited at a London venue.

The idea behind the competition is a positive one: to enhance wellbeing and improve mental health. As such, it is framed in positive terms: not ‘fighting’ mental ill-health, but promoting wellbeing.

So where does history fit in this? I was invited by the British Safety Council to act as one of the competition judges on the basis of my research into the history of health and safety communication. I’ve a long standing interest in how visual methods – posters, booklets, films and so on – have been used to try to persuade people in the UK to change their behaviour and act in ways deemed to be safer. This has been a 20^th-century phenomenon and speaks volumes about the relationships between the state, citizens, employers and organisations like the British Safety Council, which has a 60-year history of using posters and other media to try to improve health and safety.

The history of health and safety can broadly be summarised as an initial focus on accidents and visible physical harm to the body – particularly workplace accidents, increasingly so in the 19^th century, but also accidents related to mobility: steamships and railways, but with some concern about horse-drawn vehicles and then, into the 20^th century, the rise of the internal combustion engine. Beyond public health (things like the spread of communicable disease that have been well explored by medical historians), there was a rather limited concern for health issues arising from other sources (e.g. the workplace): it remained the poor cousin to safety matters.

This pattern continued deep into the 20^th century, with health more difficult to tackle due to its long latency period, its relatively invisibility until drastic harm was done, and of course social attitudes which meant people – very often men – tried to continue as if all was well and disguise their ‘weakness.’ From roughly the 1980s historians, activists and the state became much more aware of the health in ‘health and safety’, with increasing attention to things like musculoskeletal disorders and asbestosis and lung diseases. This is seen in the British Safety Council’s posters as well, with health matters appearing more frequently. Much more recently – in the 21^st century – coverage of health topics has expanded to encompass not just physical manifestations but also psychosocial aspects like stress and mental health.

1981 British Safety Council poster, using a humorous approach.

These things have, of course, existed for a very long time, even if they weren’t given the same names, but now at least they are increasingly recognised and steps are being taken to reduce the dangers or to minimise harm if it occurs. (For more on occupational stress and mental health, the Health & Safety Executive have some useful advice here, and a set of useful links and resources here.)

Looking at my own sector, Higher Education, we have seen that this is an extremely pertinent issue of late, across students and staff. (More info on the sector is available here, courtesy of Universities UK, the sector’s umbrella group.) The growing recognition of the pressures on all of us involved in universities – whether studying or working – is one reason I was keen to champion this competition and initiative: hopefully it will be one place I can use my expertise to raise awareness and to make a positive difference.

I’ve been working with the British Safety Council for nearly 10 years, helping to uncover its archive and then making use of it in my research, as well as contributing to the British Safety Council’s mission that no-one should be made ill or injured at work. This relationship includes working on the British Safety Council’s 60^th anniversary last year, producing a book to mark the occasion and which is soon to be re-published by Routledge (watch this space!).

Working with the British Safety Council, including on this poster competition, fits happily with my belief – developed out of researching the lives changed or cut short by accidents in the past – that historical research can not only improve knowledge and understanding of the past, but where possible can and should have practical implications that can make our world today and in the future a better place.

The British Safety Council has been supportive both of my work and its own past, including investing money in exploring and then digitising its archive. It’s been a very positive relationship, so when I was asked to help in judging the poster competition it was an easy decision. I’m looking forward to seeing the entries, and expect some tough decisions!

The competition runs until 19 October. Further details, including how to enter, are available here: https://www.britsafe.org/campaigns-policy/competition-images-of-wellbeing/

Everyone is encouraged to enter – and we’ll feature an update after the judging is complete: good luck!

September 14, 2018
Using Visual Sources: “Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer!”

Nia Picton-Phillips, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, wrote the following blog entry on a Nazi propaganda poster featuring Adolf Hitler for the Introduction to Historical Research Unit. Nia discusses the ways in which the image was used to promote various aspects of Nazi ideology. The unit is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.

The use of visual sources as a means of understanding the past has transformed historical knowledge. The ‘pictorial turn,’ as suggested by W. J. T. Mitchell, was “declared a new cultural phenomenon: a transition from a culture dominated by the book to one dominated by images.” [1] The value of visual sources is particularly prevalent in the study of Nazism. As John Tosh has noted, research “has been deepened by the study of official propaganda,” allowing scholars to understand how such propaganda was used to sustain the Third Reich. [2] The source in question is a propaganda poster of Adolf Hitler with the central slogan “Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer!” (One People, one Country, one Leader!), which was widely distributed in Germany in the years after its commission in 1935. [3] As shown in this source, the Nazis manufactured propaganda to encourage confirmation from the public of a ‘national community,’ with the urge “to put ‘community before the individual’ […] and to place its faith in slogans”. [4] This poster, serving as a popular example of propaganda, as well as an attempt to restructure the ‘weak’ German society that was said to have been caused by the old Weimar system, enriches historians’ understanding of Nazi Germany through its symbolistic content. This source, and visual sources in general, highlight the benefits of the employment of visual sources to aid comprehension of the past.

The uses of symbolism in visual sources, especially within the context of Nazi Germany, act as interpretative measures “which reveal the basic attitude of a nation, a period, a class, a religious or philosophical persuasion.” [5] Politically, the slogan emphasised the desire for Nazi Germany to be a homogenous community, particularly racially. [6] This left an “indelible mark on the minds of most Germans who lived through the Nazi years,” because it appeared on a myriad of propaganda posters, as well being disseminated orally through speeches; an art of persuasion to transform the Third Reich into one total state. [7] The religious undertone of this source is reinforced when coupled with Hermann Göring’s comments that “God gave the saviour to the German people. We have faith, deep unshakeable faith, that he [Hitler] was sent to us by God to save Germany.” [8] The implication is that Hitler was ‘chosen’ to act upon God’s will.

This poster of Hitler contains two significant aspects of Nazi symbolism: the swastika and Reichsadler (‘Imperial Eagle’). To understand the visual source, it is important to place these symbols in context, questioning why and how they became the most significant symbols of the Nazi party, stigmatised by connotations of genocide, hatred and racism. In this source, Hitler wears a red swastika armband around his left arm, as a representation of the Nazi party, an image which was “crucial to the spread of Nazi success.” [9] In Mein Kampf Hitler gave a National Socialist meaning to images such as this: “in red we see the social idea of the movement, in white the nationalist idea, in the swastika the mission and the struggle for the victory of the Aryan man.” [10] Although this turned the ancient swastika into a symbol of hatred, as a symbol for Nazi rule, it provided the visual identity and national image for success. The Reichsadler, seen upon Hitler’s brown tie, had been a symbol of national unity for many years. It originated from the Holy Roman Empire and was used in its original form until 1935. However, a different edition of the Reichsadler, combined with the Nazi swastika, became the national emblem during the Nazi movement, as ordered by the Führer. It is, then, integral to consider symbols within an image. In this instance they reveal to historians a great deal about Germany as a nation, Hitler as its leader, and the sense of ‘national community’ being promoted within Germany.

As a consequence of the introduction of Mitchell’s ‘pictorial turn,’ the use of visual sources has been vastly debated amongst historians, such as Peter Burke, Stephen Bann, Francis Haskell and Peter Claus. Since the late eighteenth-century, “visual propaganda has occupied a large place in modern political history.” [11] Before its association with negative connotations, propaganda was deployed to promote “a particular goal […] desired by the propagandist.” [12] This goal, relating to this source, was to unify the German population with the creation of an intensified national awareness through the central idea of ‘ein Volk’ under the dictatorship of one leader. Claus recognised that to use visual sources appropriately, means to historically contextualise them beyond doubt, ensuring the sources can accurately enrich historical understanding. [13] Therefore, historians must place the source within its historical context but without limiting it. In this sense, “room should also be left for what Francis Haskell has called ‘the impact of the image on the historical imagination’.” [14] This extension of Burke’s argument allows historians to witness forms of past cultures, such as political life, religion, knowledge and belief. Bann noted that images bring us “face-to-face with history,” whereas Burke debates this usefulness. [15] The ‘silence’ of visual sources makes understanding their testimony difficult for historians, because sources “may have been intended to communicate a message of their own,” a message of which is not the historian’s. [16] This aspect, however, is sometimes ignored to ‘read’ visual sources “between the lines,” therefore distorting the meaning of the visual sources and thus distorting the historian’s understanding. [17] With sufficient analysis, and placed in their historical provenance, visual sources can and have provided historians with great insights of the past, further enhancing their understanding of particular issues.

Ultimately, the Nazi propaganda poster analysed in this blog highlights the efforts of Hitler and the Nazi party to initiate conformity to a ‘national community’ with the idea of a great leader. This was a leader who would be “hard, ruthless, resolute, uncompromising and radical’; a leader who would be a “ruler, warrior and high-priest like.” [18] This was an ideal of leadership which Nazi propaganda proved effective in portraying in the form of Hitler. This effectiveness casts light on social ‘rationality’ in this period, and allows us to understand why Hitler was as highly regarded and supported by the German population as he was. Many people in Germany believed that Hitler would be the leader to resolve the mistakes of the weak Weimar system. Symbolism in visual sources is thus integral to understanding the meaning and purpose of the source, and in this instance that symbolism is used to illuminate the idea of Hitler as a significant leader during the Third Reich. While there are obvious risks in using visual sources for historical understanding, as Katy Layton-Jones has rightly noted, their use “by academic historians has become not only acceptable, but actively encouraged.” [19] Nonetheless, they should always be analysed critically with regard to the context and agenda of the producer, or propagandist, as in the example used in this blog.

Notes

[1] Sol Cohen, “An Innocent Eye: The “Pictorial Turn,” Film Studies, and History,” History of Education Quarterly 43, no. 2, (2003), 250.

[2] John Tosh, The Pursuit of History: Aims, Methods and New Directions in the Study of History 6^th ed. (London: Routledge, 2015), 208.

[3] Heinrich Knirr, Color poster with a portrait of Hitler and the Nazi slogan: Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer, 1935, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, https://collections.ushmm.org/search/catalog/irn516176, last accessed 30 January 2018.

[4] David Welch, The Third Reich: Politics and Propaganda 2^nd ed. (London: Routledge, 2002), 61.

[5] Erwin Panofsky, Studies in Iconology: Humanistic Themes in the Art of the Renaissance, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1939), 7.

[6] Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer, https://collections.ushmm.org/search/catalog/irn516176, last accessed 30 January 2018.

[7] Joseph W. Bendersky, A Concise History of Nazi Germany, (Plymouth: Rowman & Littlefield, 2007), 105.

[8] Gabriel Wilensky, Six Million Crucifixions: How Christian Teachings About Jews Paved the Road to the Holocaust, (San Diego: QWERTY Publishers, 2010), 86.

[9] Ian Kershaw, Hitler, 1889-1936: Hubris, (London: Penguin, 2001), 320.

[10] Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf, (London: Pimlico, 1992), 497.

[11] Peter Burke, Eyewitnessing: The Uses of Images as Historical Evidence, (London: Reaktion Books, 2001), 79.

[12] Aristotle A. Kallis, Nazi Propaganda and the Second World War, (Basingstoke: Macmillian, 2008), 1.

[13] Peter Claus and John Marriott, History: An Introduction to Theory, Method and Practice, (Essex: Pearson Education, 2012), 263.

[14] Burke, Eyewitnessing, 13.

[15] Burke, Eyewitnessing, 13.

[16] Burke, Eyewitnessing, 14.

[17] Burke, Eyewitnessing, 14.

[18] Ian Kershaw, “How Effective was Nazi Propaganda?”, in Nazi Propaganda: The Power and the Limitations ed. David Welch, (London: Croom Helm, 1983), 185.

[19] Katy Layton-Jones, “Visual Quotations: Referencing Visual Sources as Historical Evidence,” Visual Resources 24, no. 2, (2008), 189.

April 16, 2018
Using Visual Sources: Equestrian Portrait of Charles I by Anthony van Dyck

Holly Chambers, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, wrote the following blog entry on the portrait of Charles I by Anthony van Dyck for the Introduction to Historical Research Unit. Holly discusses the ways in which we can use visual sources such as this to understand more about society at the time the portrait was commissioned and painted. The unit is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.

Equestrian Portrait of Charles I by Anthony van Dyck

The Equestrian Portrait of Charles I by Anthony van Dyck is currently on display at the National Gallery in London. [1] The portrait shows King Charles I on horseback, riding as if at the head of his knights. He is dressed in armour and holding a commander’s baton and wearing the medallion of a Garter Sovereign. He is depicted as elegant and powerful on a magnificent horse with a page holding helmet. [2] Peter Wagner states it is also important to look at the ‘iconotext’, (text in painting,). [3] In this painting there is a sign attached to a tree that reads “CAROLUS I REX MAGNAE BRITANIAE”, (Charles I of Great Britain,). [4] This is not only a clear political statement of his undisputed position as sovereign, but is also rather audacious because at the time of this painting the Acts of Union had not been passed.

As with any primary source, historians establish their own interpretation of an image; viewing art is bound by subjectivity and emotion. [5] It is important, therefore, to take into account the relationship between the artist, the patron and the viewer. [6] Historians are increasingly using alternative sources, such as visual, oral and virtual, but it is important to contextualise these. [7] This portrait is presumed to date from c1637, not long before the outbreak of civil war in 1642. [8] The English civil war was caused mainly by Charles’ belief in the divine right of kings, to the distain of the country. He took the severe decision to dissolve parliament in 1629 claiming that he was accountable only to God. As he ran out of money, however, he was forced to recall parliament twice in 1640. [9] He had a reputation as an uncompromising monarch. [10] When Charles I became king he soon became mixed up in arguments with his parliament over his raising of taxes without their consent. Charles seldom appeared at the meetings of his privy council and was uninterested in the errands of governance. [11]

Charles has suffered a highly damaged reputation. Generally Whig historians have viewed him as a determined but foolish king, whose actions and belief in his own rights resulted in the absolution of the monarchy. Republican writer Lucy Hutchinson argues that Charles was obstinate and so obsessive of ruling absolutely that he was “resolved to be such a king or none.” [12] It is probable that Charles’ most fatal flaw was his incapacity to recognise how his actions were viewed by his country. [13] It is probable that Charles actually saw himself as he is depicted in this painting. Since the 1970s, however, historians have looked into the underlying problems of the Stuart Monarchy. Conrad Russell paid specific consideration to the difficulties associated with ruling multiple kingdoms, England, Scotland and Ireland, which differed considerably in terms of political, legal and social structure, all of which were internally divided on religion. [14] Russell also highlights the difficulties of maintaining the prestige expected of a monarch of that time with exhausted revenues due to the financial mismanagement of his predecessors. [15] Leanda de Lisle argues that Charles I, despite his reputation, was in fact an heroic monarch who warrants respect and understanding. [16] Kevin Share’s study of Charles’ personal rule has highlighted Charles’ success, at least until the 1630s, which is the time of this painting. [17]

In 1632 van Dyck was established as ‘Principal Painter in Ordinary to their Majesties’. [18] He was rewarded with a knighthood and the grant of an annual pension of £200. [19] This would suggest that Charles found van Dyck’s work was giving off the right impression that Charles wanted to project. In this portrait Charles is shown as a powerful monarch in calm control. Van Dyck’s presence in Charles court placed England on the cultural map of Europe. [20] The Caroline court epitomised style and grace before the chaos of the civil war. [21] He is known for the perceptiveness of his portraits, his technical excellence and the power of his devotional work. [22] His reputation is likely to have greatly influenced Charles, who was trying to project and boost his own reputation and image.

Portraiture is useful to historians in that it can show a representation of how someone looks, although it needs to be remembered that this cannot be verified, and is always mediated by the painter (who would usually be expected to portray the subject in a very positive light, particularly if the subject was a member of royalty). More interestingly, however, portraits show a lot about the era that generated them, the attitude of the artist towards the sitter, and the position of the sitter in their society. [23] The artist, the patron, and viewers see the image in different ways. [24] This portrait shows Charles’ authority as reigning monarch; it shows that it was important to Charles to express his supremacy. It also suggests that by choosing an artist such as van Dyck, it was important to the King that he could and would have the best.

In the 1630s Charles dedicated much of his time to hunting and amassing his collection of art. [25] He “retreated into a fantasy world of symbolic representation in which the royal persona vanquished all opposition.” [26] He posed for many different portraits depicting him as the saviour of his kingdom. [27] When assessing the imposing images of Charles I shown in van Dyck’s portrait, painted during his personal rule, it is tempting to relate it to the trouble of the civil war, that unknown to them, was about to come. With hindsight it is easy to see the world Van Dyck captured as a realm in which Charles could hold onto his ideals of the divine right of kings, which in reality he could not do. [28] Van Dyck’s paintings communicated influential and commanding cultural, political and dynastic messages to sovereigns, as well as their courts and contemporaries. [29] Van Dyck was made Charles’ court painter in order to create images conveying the monarch’s belief in his divine right. [30] This portrait was a clear representation of those ideals.

Notes

[1] van Dyck, Anthony. Equestrian Portrait of Charles I, 1637-8, National Portrait Gallery, NG1172, https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/anthony-van-dyck-equestrian-portrait-of-charles-i (2018).

[2] National Portrait Gallery, https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/anthony-van-dyck-equestrian-portrait-of-charles-i (2018).

[3] Peter Burke, Eyewitnessing The Use of Images as Historical Evidence (London: Reaktion Books, 2001): 39

[4] van Dyck, Equestrian Portrait of Charles I.

[5] Sarah Barber, History Beyond the Text: A Students Guide to Approaching Alternative Sources ed. Sarah Barber and Corinna M. Peniston-Bird (Oxford: Routledge: 2009): 16.

[6] Barber, History beyond the Text: 17.

[7] Barber, History beyond the Text: 16 and 19.

[8] National Portrait Gallery, https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/anthony-van-dyck-equestrian-portrait-of-charles-i (2018); Sally Coffey, “King or Country,” Britain: 64

[9] Sally Coffey, “King or Country,” Britain: 64.

[10] Coffey, “King or Country,” 64

[11] Coffey, “King or Country,” 64

[12] Robert Zaller, “Charles I: A Pretender to His Own Throne?” Journal of Psychohistory 45, no.2 (2017): 113.

[13] Goodlad, “Charles I: Author of his Own Downfall?”: 20.

[14] Goodlad, “Charles I: Author of his Own Downfall?”: 22.

[15] Goodlad, “Charles I: Author of his Own Downfall?”: 20.

[16] Goodlad, “Charles I: Author of his Own Downfall?”: 21.

[17] Linda Porter, “ABSOLUTIST MARTYR OR MURDEROUS TRAITOR? Nearly 400 years after his execution, Charles I’s actions and legacy continue to divide scholarly opinion” History Today 68, no. 2 (2018).

[18] Goodlad, “Charles I: Author of his Own Downfall?”: 21.

[19] Tony Osborne, “Van Dyck and His Patrons” History Today 49, no.9 (1999): 6

[20] Osborne, “Van Dyck”: 6.

[21] Osborne, “Van Dyck”: 6.

[22] Deborah Cherry and Jennifer Harris, “Eighteenth-Century Portraiture and the Seventeenth-Century Past: Gainsborough and Van Dyck,” Art History 5, no. 3 (1982): 287.

[23] Osborne, “Van Dyck”: 6.

[24] Barber, History beyond the Text: 19.

[25] Burke, Eyewitnessing: 40.

[26] Zaller. “Charles I,” :120.

[27] Zaller, “Charles I,” : 113.

[28] Osborne, “Van Dyck”: 6.

[29] Osborne, “Van Dyck”: 6.

[30] National Portrait Gallery, https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/anthony-van-dyck-equestrian-portrait-of-charles-i (2018)

April 9, 2018