IHR Postgraduate Conference 26-27 June 2008: Turning Points

The Institute of Historical Research lacks mud, tents and druids and is conveniently located in the centre of London. In spite of these obvious drawbacks, around forty postgraduate historians rejected the charms of Glastonbury and instead made a pilgrimage to Bloomsbury, to attend the History Lab’s annual conference. Attendees did not get to witness the spectacle of Jay-Z or Shakin’ Stevens, although both Jethro Tull and the Levellers were mentioned in papers. Moreover, who needs Neil Diamond when the first talk of the conference was on (Sweet) Caroline England?



The broad conference theme, ‘turning points’, allowed for an interesting mix of approaches, styles and periods, but it also gave coherence to the thirty-odd papers which constituted the main bulk of proceedings. A few people had pulled out at the last minute, but the show must go on. Indeed, in a somewhat surreal twist, I found myself delivering somebody else’s paper on the agricultural revolution just after lunch on the first day. After this, Hermione Gifford (Imperial) spoke on industry, specifically the adoption of tungsten carbide cutting tools in Britain after 1927. Hermione’s presentation, and several others, was enhanced by the well thought-out use of projected images which help to grab and sustain the audience’s attention. Mari Takayanagi (IHR), who also works for the Parliamentary Archives, illustrated her talk on the Life Peerages Act of 1958, which included women peers for the first time, with images of the key figures and documents. Her co-panellist, Lucy Hewitt (Edinburgh) projected a number of old maps of London to demonstrate some of the ‘Work of the London Society and the Emergence of Professional Planning’. As these examples show, the participants’ research interests cover an enormous range: earlier on we’d heard Liza Filby (Warwick) discussing Thatcher, sex and morality, alongside Tom Packer (Oxford) who delved into Jesse Helms’ campaign tactics. In a panel charged with contemporary resonance, Campbell Wilson (Glasgow) looked at the oil crisis of 1973 and the discovery of 'energy' while Michael Passmore (IHR) covered the introduction of 'right to buy' for council tenants. Alongside this mass of twentieth century material, the opening panel – on change and continuity in seventeenth century England – gave us a glimpse into what my mum would call ‘real’ history. I found it especially interesting that so much thought-provoking work on this tumultuous period in English history is being carried out by students in American universities!



History Lab events are generally friendly and sociable, and the conference was no exception. The atmosphere was refreshingly laid-back and non-threatening, feedback was constructive, and Tom Packer was indefatigable (he was attending two conferences simultaneously) and I think he just managed to edge Noah Millstone (Stanford) for number of interesting and incisive questions asked. The value of these events is not just about giving a paper, but about meeting people in the same boat, to share good and bad experiences. A lot of the American students who attended are working in Britain, so hopefully some of the contacts they’ve made will prove useful.



Over the lunch break, the History Lab AGM was held and Helen McCarthy (IHR) and Liza outlined the many successful events held during 2007-2008. The newly-elected members of the committee will be under a lot of pressure to maintain the high standards set, but it is undoubtedly a good thing that the History Lab exists. Perhaps one of the reasons I’m taking so long to finish my PhD is so that I can still participate in its activities...



Some people had written their papers months in advance, some had been writing them in the days and nights before the conference. For those of us in the latter group, artificial stimulation was definitely required as the day went on: the tightly-packed schedule was undoubtedly interesting, but hard on tired brains. Luckily, the organisers provided an abundant supply of coffee and, at the end of the first day, wine. The wine reception followed a plenary session on ‘Time and the Shape of History’, led by Professor Penelope Corfield (Royal Holloway) and Dr William Gallois (Roehampton). While a conversation on the nature of time after eight solid hours of panel discussion was perhaps a little beyond some of us, the speakers gave enjoyable and thought-provoking talks and reminded us that we are a lucky generation of scholars, no longer shackled by post-modernism.



The conference dinner, held at a nearby Zizzi, involved more free wine. I had apparently forgotten that I still had a paper to give the next day, and had a few glasses to wind down (perhaps reflecting the fact I had delivered an ‘extra’ paper, I also had two dinners). Dinner was also a good chance to find out about people beyond their research interests (I’ve always been a fan of the idea that you should know your historians before you read their work) and also for me to force the grim details of my own farm-based lifestyle upon unsuspecting people. After dinner, some of us headed to a nearby pub (the evening was beginning to take on a somewhat inevitable character in the context of history-based events). In the pub, the discussion, as ever, revolved around music and, fuelled by alpine lager, some singing was heard. When we were kicked out at closing time, some delegates headed home while the more ‘carefree’ among us headed off to the bowels of nearby Soho where we found a ska club and stayed out til three in the morning. At this point, I recalled I had to give a paper in eight hours time.

Unfortunately, the logistical arrangements of getting some (by now) pointless sleep and printing out my paper meant that I missed the first panel of the second day. This was on ‘Debating Medieval Turning Points’ and, by all accounts, went down very well. However, I had arrived in time for much-needed coffee and then the panel on ‘War, armaments and the quest for peace: transformations in interwar Britain’, which I was speaking on. This had been planned as early as January, as I have great respect for the work of my two co-panellists and wanted the chance to present alongside them. Helen McCarthy spoke on the impact of the League of Nations Union and raised various important points about the Union’s significance (or otherwise), in a talk full of amusing quotations and illustrations. Waqar Zaidi (Imperial) dealt with the impact of technology on international relations and interwar liberal internationalism. I am enormously impressed by his ability to carve out a unique, coherent and interesting thesis from a rather intimidating range of materials, and the relationship between technology and internationalism is fascinating. By comparison to these two my own work is very basic, so I was pleased to get through my paper and avoid any tricky questions. I was a bit scared because Waqar’s supervisor, who writes on the British military-industrial complex, turned up just beforehand. Luckily, he didn’t tear me apart in public, but made some comments to me afterwards. Phew.

After lunch, we had a brilliant (in all senses) talk on the changing perceptions of colour in the age of aniline dyes by Charlotte Nicklas (Brighton) which, again, was lavishly illustrated. Dan Wilson (Birkbeck) then presented a fascinating cameo study on Raymond Williams and the ‘interregnum’, 1880-1914. A large number of empire historians could not make it, so Philipp Wirtz (SOAS) bravely took the stage alone. His account of German observers of the Young Turk movement was well-told and well-received. Indeed, many of the papers on the second day dealt with impressions of the ‘foreigner’ – on the next panel, Chris Knowles (IHR) talked about the reactions of British army officers in Germany during the transition from war to peace in 1945 and Ulrike Thieme (Glasgow) covered the Northern Department of the Foreign Office, its impressions of the post-1945 Soviet political structure (and politicians), and its persuasion of the government to get tough with the Soviet Union. After this panel, I had to leave, and was disappointed to miss the final session on periodisation and narrativity in history-writing. I imagine this would have brought together many of the diverse themes of the conference together and raised more theoretical questions about how we go about our discipline. After all, there aren’t just turning points in the historical narrative, but also huge shifts in the way we go about looking at them.

If you are postgraduate student in the UK next summer, you should definitely consider presenting your work at the 2009 conference. If you don’t fancy that, you should nonetheless attend. It’s an ideal place to give a first paper, to network, to simply meet new people and gain motivation (and to discover previously unknown nightclubs in Soho). My own flagging spirits have certainly been revived, though I should possibly be working on a chapter rather than writing this report... It just remains to thank the History Lab team for organising this, to all the chairs of the various panels and to everybody who turned up and made this such a diverse and entertaining couple of days. And it only cost a tenth of a Glastonbury ticket!

Ed Packard (LSE)

thinking about business archives...

Recently, an Economic History PhD student at LSE held a ‘Meet the Archivists’ expo, at the ING building on London Wall, home of the Baring archive.

The event attracted a number of business archives aside from Barings: I could not attend, disappointingly, but I did talk with the organiser a few days later.

The problem, as we (and others) see it, is that business archives are mainly used – unsurprisingly – by business historians and economic historians. Not a problem in itself, as the material is undoubtedly well-suited for their needs. However, this only scratches the surface potential of business archives for historical research, and I think more historians should be encouraged to at least consider whether their theses could benefit from a closer look at the business community.

My own thesis (broadly characterised as ‘international history’) started off as a very political-diplomatic affair, looking at relations between Britain and the League of Nations. However, as I became more and more interested in attempts to regulate the manufacture and trade in armaments, I started to investigate the possibilities of looking at the records of the different arms companies – I found copious material in the Vickers papers at Cambridge, the Armstrong papers at Newcastle, while the Beardmore papers were one of the reasons I headed off to Glasgow a few weeks ago. The documents I found (and secondary material – much of which was ‘business history’) prompted me to search for wider connections, and therefore I have ended up using banking archives as well as the personal papers of prominent industrialists and financiers. Some of the characters in the business community have turned out to be much more dynamic and colourful than the politicians, and it has been interesting to work out precisely how differently they viewed the world.

Aside from giving my own thesis a much wider breadth (and, presumably, a more ‘accurate’ presentation of the past), my investigations into financial and industrial history have also provided me with a much greater understanding of the various power relationships in interwar Britain – though Whitehall still remains important, I now have a better appreciation the all-important financial machinations just down the road in the City of London, and, also, of Fleet Street, in the middle of these two great power blocs). Heavy industry, meanwhile, was concentrated in the north, far away from the seats of power.

One of the main reasons, I think, non-economic historians shy away from business archives is because you do have to learn another language (sort of), though the language of business is surprisingly easy to pick up, and quite rewarding (I started to read the FT and Economist, I bought a business dictionary etc). You *don’t* have to worry so much about how the banking system etc. works in any great detail, but what is important is that business records, far from being stuffy, offer a candid view of powerful individuals and organisations. So do consider whether they’d be of any use in your own work (and the archives can be very exciting to visit, such as the Bank of England). Hopefully there will be a similar ‘meet the archivists’ event this year, but in the meantime a good place to start is here, while this site provides an overview of what’s out there.

hurrah!

'Indeed, should you want to close the curtains, dig out your discarded old-school sportswear, revert to dial-up and and pretend it's actually the mid-1990s, this should be a bumper year.'

Though not enough Britpop revivalism in there for my liking.

(I highlight this link in honour of the fact I am apparently stuck in 1996).

panic

Attempting to turn a vaguely interesting narrative into cold, hard analysis is tough going. I just tried it for 30 minutes with no artificial stimulants. Now I'm well set up for the afternoon:



I started 2008 with good intentions, but have written less than 1000 words to date - moreover, term starts next week and teaching will get in the way of writing. Bah.

cannon to the right of me

I spent the first day of the year researching armaments from an earlier age than the usual.

new year desolation

2008 is down as the year I'm going to finish the PhD. I am more than a little wary of this eventuality, having witnessed what this process has done to colleagues in the past. Therefore, I'm not exactly counting down the hours to the end of 2007. In fact (and paradoxically) I am spending the rest of the year working at the introduction and chapters 1 and 2.

I think the last time I went out and celebrated New Year was back in 2000-2001. Perhaps the fact this outing involved three or four of the worst pubs in Ipswich has something to do with my subsequent reluctance to leave the house.

It will surely be a *good thing* to finish this thesis: one of the most important things I've learned this year is that it is only one piece of work, and it is only a starting point. A starting point for what (given the lack of available academic careers) I don't know, but hopefully I'll end up doing something I enjoy - and earning money, which will be a shocking development. My sister's boyfriend was around for much of the Christmas holiday and he's not much older than me and earning £37,000 a year (that's officer-in-the-army wages for you). Untold riches!

I took over a week off for Christmas, and this has stressed me out: I now have post-relaxation fatigue and have been unable to get really stuck into finishing my current drafts: this possibly explains the manic desire to have completed *something* by the end of 2007...

My history-related resolution for this year is not to become a recluse while I continue writing. Therefore, more trips to London and, if that fails, more blogging.

who’s gonna Clyde your wild horses?

The funniest thing about Glasgow? It’s the little differences. For example, you can walk into a McDonald’s in Glasgow and order an Irn Bru. In fact, Irn Bru is bloody everywhere, though I’ve so far managed to avoid its orange charms.

Like some latter day Keroauc (I have the trousers, I don’t have the talent or charisma), I’ve packed up my laptop and undertaken an epic journey from my backwater countryside dwelling to Glasgow, the grand old workshop of the British Empire. In keeping with the romantic tradition I took the train, but was neither seduced nor attacked by Russian spies. That’s ‘advance purchase II’ tickets for you. I wasn’t even sat next to a window.

The purpose of this trip is ostensibly to research various characters and companies who play important roles in my thesis. However, this is my first time in Scotland and my roving eye is enjoying all the new sights, my blocked sinuses are appreciating the crisp northern air and my small, furry ears are immensely fond of the Glaswegian accent. It is biting cold but I am safely wrapped up like the stay-puft marshmallow man – strangely, everyone else seems to be wearing normal amounts of clothing and coping alright. I dare not shave because my soft southern skin would probably crack into a million pieces – thus, with the big coat and one-week beard, the illusion of destitution is complete.

Though it obviously cannot compare to the splendour of Houghton Street, Glasgow University is beautiful – I didn’t realise it was quite so ancient and imposing. Also in its favour are the frosty gardens and the proximity of Byres Street, with its vast number of cafes. I’m staying in a flat which is part of ‘the largest student village in Europe’, but thankfully most of the students have gone home. In fact, the only inhabitants I’ve encountered are the security guard and a feral cat. When I arrived, all the shops were closed (hence the trip to McDonald’s) but since then I’ve managed to stock up on student essentials: pasta and Soreen. Owing to the exigencies of archival research, however, my primary consumption has been espresso-based. Tinderbox is open early and shuts late, so serves my needs well. It’s also great for eavesdropping. I visited one of the professors here yesterday: at last - an academic who makes coffee. We therefore talked productively (and rapidly) about banks and armaments and my fertiliser-manufacturing ancestor.

I’ve also found a quotation for my preface (surely the hardest part of completing any research project) – it comes from a 1938 speech by Sir James Lithgow, a prominent Scottish industrialist. He’s talking about naval designers, but I think the comment is equally apt for PhD students:

‘[the inventor, research student or designer] has to live laborious days if he is to keep abreast of developments in his own field, and to acquire the knowledge which alone will enable him to improve upon the work of his predecessors. The forty-hour week and many of the slogans of the modern social reformer are merely a snare to such a one if he is determined to follow in the footsteps of the great pioneers. His recreations must be complementary to, and not competitive with, his work.’

Indeed. I’m lucky if I have a forty-hour day. What’s more, the archivists can not only sense fear, but they can also sense enthusiasm – they’ve asked me if I’d like to stay in the reading room until eight tomorrow night. Speaking of rock and roll, there is a mid-90s anecdote in all of this. Glasgow, I believe, is also home to Bis, the three-piece responsible for the ‘sugar sugar candy pop’ song. Though that was awful, I witnessed the awesome force of Bis live a while back, and they weren’t that bad. However, they were squeezed between something called ‘Bellatrix’ and Russell (Pulp violinist) Senior’s vanity project ‘Venini’. Who are they? Exactly. By contrast, Bis have apparently reformed, according to posters dotted around.

I’m heading back south on Friday, but I wish I was staying here a bit longer, to get to know the city during daylight. But Christmas creeps up again, and I am required to reprise my role in the annual farmyard pantomime.