Showing posts with label history teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label history teaching. Show all posts

Tory Historian was not going to comment on the row between Michael Gove, Secretary of State for Education, Tristram Hunt, his Shadow and the egregious Blackadder series but an article in yesterday's Evening Standard by Anthony Beevor seemed too good to ignore.

Mr Beevor, who is known as an historian of the Second World War and its immediate aftermath, tells both Mr Gove and Mr Hunt that they are wrong (and sometimes right) about the reasons for Britain getting involved in the First World War and whether it was a good idea or not. On balance, he thinks, it was a good idea and Britain was right to do so but the object was not to protect freedom and democracy (a doubtful concept even at the time) but to prevent German hegemony of Europe.

Then he moves on to the problem of people writing about the way the war or, to be quite precise, the war on the Western Front was conducted. It is at this point that the Blackadder problem raises its ugly head. The discussions on what is, after all, a comedy show about the reason for the war are rather simplistic and the image of how it was conducted is based on a series of myths first promulgated by middle-class writers and poets who had not, as a class, taken part in a war before and thus had no idea just how horrible it really was, then by historians like Alan Clark who has never been able to show where he got that quote about lions being led by donkeys and, finally, by various showbiz personalities. In the meantime, real historians have been doing a good deal of work on the subject but that did not always get through to popular consciousness, let alone the educational establishment.

In the course of the article Mr Beevor also discusses the question of anti-militarism, its growth in reaction to the preceding "patriotism at all costs" ideas and, also, its anachronism.

Much of the anti-militarism is a perfectly natural reaction against the earlier, collective versions of history depicting the story of country, army and regiment. In the past 20 years especially there has been a far greater emphasis on the individual. But at the same time there has also been a certain element of sentimentalisation, generalising tragedy from individual cases. The demands for a sweeping pardon for deserters overlooks the fact that a few were hardened criminals, not just sufferers from shellshock.
Why the teaching profession in its majority has taken so strongly in recent decades against anything to do with the armed forces and service rendered to the country is a large subject and Mr Beevor barely touches on it. He is right to point out, however, that this attitude must not extend to distortion of facts as it too often does.
I was appalled when I heard from a historian who is a First World War battlefield tour guide that he had heard a teacher tell her school group that officers stayed in their trenches and forced the men forward. As a recent article in the New Statesman acknowledged, young officers died at twice the rate of ordinary soldiers. Such deliberate distortions tend to underline the way that intellectual honesty is the first casualty of moral outrage.
In this connection TH calls attention to a fascinating review by Charles Moore of a recent book by Anthony Seldon and David Walsh, Public Schools and the Great War, which gives figures of casualties and the rate at which young officers, most of whom were from public schools, were killed.
Public schoolboys died at getting on for twice the average for all those who served — a rate of more than 18 per cent. One reason for this is that most were commissioned officers, and therefore led their men into battle, making themselves conspicuous. Another is that they were, generally, five inches taller than their working-class contemporaries in 1914, so they were easier for the Germans to hit.
Facts and figures are always interesting in such emotionally charged discussions but are rarely produced. It is sad to think that teachers do not bother to do so either.

Mr Beevor does mention at the end of his article something that is of great importance:
School-leavers unfortunately will come away thinking the First World War consisted simply of “going over the top” on the Western Front to slaughter in no-man’s-land, when the conflict extended so much further, to the collapse of four empires and numerous civil wars.
TH is already rather bored with the endless, mostly inadequate and politically charged articles, essays, speeches and general bilge that will pervade this centenary year. It would be good to to assume that at least one good thing will come out of it all: a realization that the war consisted of a good deal more than just the trenches on the Western front. So far, there seems little hope of that assumption being realized.

Another topic that needs to be covered at length on this site (and if any reader wants to pitch in with a few paragraphs, these will be much appreciated). To start with, here are Sir David Cannadine's comments as his new book, The Right Kind of History, is published. It is a history of history teaching in this country and a review copy is on its way to me. So I shall be able to write about the book itself.

In the meantime, what has Sir David to say about the present and the future of history teaching in British schools?

According to the BBC and the Guardian, he is advising the government, who is carrying out a revision of the curriculum to leave the content alone but to make the subject compulsory right until 16.

If we must have a compulsory curriculum then history should most definitely be part of it but is there any point in making it compulsory if the content is so poor. If children learn no dates, no consecutive knowledge of events and acquire no understanding of what happened in this or any other country then making that compulsory will not improve matters. Those of us who are not Princeton professors know that, in this case, Michael Gove happens to be right, when he says that
A generation of children knows virtually nothing about British history and leaves school "woefully under-nourished", Education Secretary Michael Gove warned today.

Even university students studying the subject are failing to recall basic historical facts, he said. Mr Gove said that around half of young people were unaware that Nelson led the British to victory at the Battle of Trafalgar, or that the Romans built Hadrian's Wall.
Even if they happen to have heard of those particular facts they rarely have an idea of which of them came first as history is taught, if at all, in bits and unrelated pieces. Time, surely, to take the problem seriously. Perhaps, my idea of setting up a school or college that taught only history to all those who are willing to pay should be thought about more seriously.

Many people know what the Whig interpretation of history is, if only in the hilariously parodic version of 1066 And All That, a book I always recommend to anyone who wants a quick summary of English history. (Here is a link to the text but, really, one needs the book in front of one because of the illustrations and because it is easier to shed tears of laughter over a book than in front of a screen.)

The man who first analyzed and defined that school of history, showing that it was not simply the right and inevitable way of looking at the subject, was Sir Herbert Butterfield, a man well known and highly regarded for most of his career, forgotten and dismissed by the "cognoscenti" after his death and one who is obviously due for a revival that may well begin with a new biography by Michael Bentley, recently reviewed in the Wall Street Journal.

In "The Life and Thought of Herbert Butterfield," Michael Bentley draws on a range of private letters and papers to sharpen our appreciation of Butterfield's actual accomplishments, particularly "The Whig Interpretation of History," the 1931 book that made his reputation by forcing historians to reconsider their discipline. Butterfield argued forcefully against the then-common practice of honing a historical narrative so that it neatly progresses, seemingly inevitably, to the enlightened present or tailoring descriptions of the past to reflect contemporary concerns.
While it seems sensible not to stick to the view of history, especially that of England and Britain, being a more or less clearly ascending line towards a sensible and progressive society, it cannot be said that the alternative teaching that has developed since the Whig theory has been abandoned, has been an improvement.

By discarding the apparent linear progression of history schools, teachers and, above all, creators of the national curriculum and examination topics, have discarded all narrative. That, in turn, has meant a loss of understanding as it is impossible to grasp what certain events might mean if the background to them is unknown; and a loss of interest for most pupils. How can one be interested in history if it consists of disconnected topics of varying interest and importance? Ironically, while Butterfield's name is all but unknown these days, Our Island Story, the pre-eminent children's book that was so ably parodied by 1066 And All That, was, on its reprinting, a huge success. As a matter of fact, it is not a very good book and its over-reliance on Shakespeare's plays for information is regrettable. But it gives what many children need: a story in an attractive format with many exciting illustrations.

The review does make one want to read the biography itself, which, clearly deals with the difficult aspects of Butterfield's life while presenting the argument for a reappraisal of his work.

Tory Historian is bemused. On the one hand, Professor Simon Schama, broadcaster, author of very popular history books and Professor of Art History and History at Columbia University, says that there should be no cuts in the state funding of arts subjects like history because if there are only rich people will be able to study history at university.


On the other hand, he does not think particularly highly of the way history is taught at most universities and, especially, at schools (something TH can certainly agree with) though it is not quite clear how Professor Schama knows what goes on in the average school in Britain.

So, all that funding has not helped? Maybe something else should be tried?

Then again, is Columbia University not a private university? That is certainly what it sounds like.

Tory Historian was quite excited by the prospect of a film about George VI, the Abdication Crisis and the beginning of the Second World War. All these events were within living memory (still) but, because of the lack of historical teaching in schools, are not as well known as they ought to be. A viewing was in order as soon as possible and a few subsequent discussions. Tory Historian has been somewhat discouraged both by the film and, especially, by the discussions. Sentimentality seems to overwhelm the need or desire to study history.


It is necessary to acknowledge that the film is good. It is not brilliant but it is good in a solid way: good script, good acting with many of the best known British thesps on parade, accurate in detailed knowledge of the period. Compared to most films that have been produced in the last ten years or so, it is very good, but that is a reflection on the state the film industry is in around the world.

The historic background, on the other hand, is very poor. Whoever did the research should have their salaries docked. Or be told to wash dishes in future, if they can manage it. This is not about details of when exactly the Duke of York or George VI made the first truly successful speech. This is, after all, a film not a biography and certain dramatic tension is required. It is perfectly reasonable to build the story towards the speech at the outbreak of war when the fairy tale comes to fruition: the younger son (in this case a prince but that is irrelevant) overcomes the many handicaps and difficulties, gains the throne and the love of his people as he already has the love of several princesses who are his wife and two daughters.

What is objectionable is the complete disregard for historical accuracy in other matters. It is not possible to imagine that George V (or, for that matter, anyone else) said in 1935 (readers, please mark the date) that whoever inherited the throne from him would be facing Hitler threatening half Europe and Stalin the other half. Nobody thought that about Hitler and nobody paid that much attention to Stalin except on domestic matters.

Baldwin did not resign in 1937 because he thought "Winston was right". Very few people thought that in 1937, before Anschluss and invasion of Sudetenland; certainly not Baldwin who supported Chamberlain in 1938.

All this amounts to a promotion of Churchill as the secondary hero of the story, presumably for the American market. It culminates in the complete reversal of Churchill's role in the Abdication Crisis. The film shows him broadly supportive of the Yorks. In reality he supported Edward beyond any realistic expectation, making a speech in the Commons as late as December 1936 in his favour. He was humiliatingly shouted down.

There is, in addition, a problem with Timothy Spall who plays Churchill or rather a pantomime Churchill as one reviewer said. Mr Spall is the one exception in the film - among all the other superlative performances his is dreadful.

Does any of this matter? Tory Historian has been assured by various people that it does not as the film in itself is a good thing and will probably encourage others to go away and find out more about the Abdication Crisis, George VI and other related matters. Sad to say, this does not seem to be true. There is no evidence that the film is driving interest in the actual events of that period. In fact, all references to historic facts or inaccuracies are pooh-poohed with a somewhat gooey sentimental sigh. It is just so lovely, that film and gives one such lovely warm feelings. Who needs to learn history? Tory Historian remains very sad and disappointed.


Tory Historian has finished reading Earl Stanhope's Conversations with Wellington (mentioned here and here) and, having recently read John Charmley's biography of Princess Lieven (here and here) could not help spending some time in meditation about the Duke of Wellington's role as politician.


TH's history teaching at school was far superior than that given to children these days but was a descendant of the Whig theory of history and assumed that certain events were GOOD THINGS (to quote the immortal 1066 And All That). Therefore all those who opposed those events must have been bad, stupid or reactionary (or any combination of those). The Duke of Wellington, as every schoolchild should know but probably doesn't, opposed the 1832 Reform Act though accepted its inevitably passing and continued to be active in Parliament. His historic punishment was a dismissal to the margins of history books as a politician. Obviously not even the writers of school textbooks could dismiss the Iron Duke to the margins as military commander.

The impression one gained was that after Waterloo, the Duke was the most popular man in Britain and was, therefore, dragged into politics by the wily and desperate Tories (desperate because they knew they were on the wrong side) against his wishes and despite his complete lack of ability and understanding in that field.

Sadly, none of that is true and Tory Historian needs to rethink everything read in those textbooks and heard in the lessons. It would appear that the Duke did have a great deal of political aptitude and a very good understanding of European affairs as well as a great fear (like most military men) of another European war. He was central to British politics for many years after Waterloo and went on serving as a public servant almost until the day of his death. Many of his political judgements were considerably more intelligent and penetrating than those of people on the other side who were the heroes of those long-ago school lessons.

Being an historian by training and interest (though not, sadly, by employment) I have always found it odd that people should not be interested in history. But it’s about people and what they do and why they do it. How can it not be interesting? The usual reply consists of a list of unrelated and rather dull topics that passes for history these days in schools.

It has been obvious for some time that what excites people is narrative history, which is, presumably, the reason for the popularity enjoyed by popular history books and TV series in the last few years. Of course, as Andrew Roberts pointed out to me in an interview for the Conservative History Journal, this popularity may not last and can be replaced at any time by any other subject.

For all of that, it is clear that there are many people out there who want to know about history and feel cheated by its non-teaching at schools. This influenced Civitas a couple of years ago when it decided to reprint the old children’s classic, “Our Island Story” by H. E. Marshall.

I re-read it in its hardback version and thought it was a pity that the new edition was quite so heavy to pick up, what with thick glossy paper and rather thick cover. It was meant to be for children who would find it difficult to manoeuvre a hefty volume of that kind. This might well have been sorted out in the paperback edition.

There was something of a surprise as I did not remember how much of the history Henrietta Marshall wrote was actually based on literature, most notably, of course, Shakespeare’s plays. There are many quotations from the plays as well as other poetry.

Poetry, of course, is a great incentive for learning history, especially if it is of the more heroic kind and those plays have been inspiring debates for centuries. However, none of that is history in the acceptable sense of the word. It is more a reflection of the way teachers wanted children and young people to see their own national development.

Browsing through some second hand books at a summer fair recently I came across a slim tome I had not heard of before. It is by Peter Mandler, the Cambridge historian and is entitled “History and National Life”, complete with that famous picture of the young Walter Raleigh listening to the stories of an old salt on the cover.

This is an interesting topic and I shall enjoy reading the book and reporting on it, despite the rather poor review by Roger Spalding published in the Institute of Historical Research.

Tory Historian cannot let the somewhat idiotic report put together by the Historical Association (who ought to know better) and published by the DfES (Department for Education and Skills, since you ask) go by without some comment.

There has been an astonishing amount of shock-horror type harrumphing in the media and on the blogosphere about the fact that in some schools teachers have given up teaching the Holocaust because some of the students have been brainwashed by their imams into denying it.

The question to be asked, surely, is why were they teaching it in the first place. Come to think of it, why were they teaching the Arab-Israeli conflict? A completely inappropriate subject for history teaching in schools.

The real problem is that there is no serious teaching of history going on in our education system, just the exposition of bitty little topics, put together, it sometimes seems through the whim of those who write the curriculum and expounded by teachers, many of whom are half-educated themselves.

It has been a matter of grim amusement for all those who care about the teachng of history that children in British schools learn a little bit about the Roman army (if they are lucky), some Tudors'n'Stuarts (most of which is a question of empathizing), a certain amount of the evils of the slave trade as shown exclusively by the British, a certain amount about the evils of the Industrial Revolution and the Holocaust. That's it. Hardly a satisfactory introduction to historical knowledge.

Small wonder most children find the learning of history at school incredibly dull and even smaller wonder that narrative histories and historical programmes on TV are incredibly popular. People feel they have been cheated of what they should have been taught at an earlier age.

The title of the report tells us all we need to know about the problem and the way it is avoided by the Historical Association: "T.E.A.C.H. - Teaching Emotive and Controversial History 3 - 19".

All history can be emotive and controversial and if you don't belive me, have a look at the way history is used by various sides in places where the conflicts are not dead. Furthermore, all imaginative children will find history emotive. Being a Yorkist or Lancastrian, Cavalier or Roundhead, American Patriot or Loyalist used to be the stuff of games and, let's face it, fights.

It is, therefore, Tory Historian's contention that the Holocaust should not be taught, except as part of a course on twentieth century history, which comes at the end of the process. History teaching should start at the beginning and go forward in a chronological fashion.

Some of it will be emotive and controversial - there may well be children who get quite excited about Boudicca and the Romans slugging it out - but at least there will be a basis of knowledge imparted to the children.

Incidentally, proper teaching of the history of British Empire, good sides and bad, will give a narrative to the British Muslims that will be rooted in historical facts rather than fantasies. After all, what could be more emotive than the story of the soldiers of the Empire who volunteered to fight for King and Country twice in the twentieth century?

Powered by Blogger.

Followers

Labels

Counters




Blog Archive