Materials for History.

It is an enlightening experience for historians to observe contemporary events unfold. The information, the facts, the opinions, the polemics, the agendas, the emotionally charged reactions come at them from all directions, crisscrossing, contradicting, cancelling out one another, forming incomprehensible shapes, blinding and deafening, messing up with reason and with theoretical schemata, stirring emotions and subverting (or confirming) preconceived ideas. Then reflection and critical processing and analysis (hopefully) take over and enable historians to see patterns and links in the cluster of happenings, and to gauge their connectedness to other clusters from the past and the present. Eventually, the events will become historical, they will settle down in the pages of a book; by that time, ithey will have probably been disconnected from the emotions and they will have lost their urgency.

Students, particularly younger ones, rarely make a connection of historical events with experiences in their own lives. A common approach to history, at least in my native Greece, is to exploit the past in order to serve agendas of the present, mainly by creating a cult of long gone heroes who achieved a greatness that should but cannot be repeated. Young (and not so young) students of history are also - I have noticed from personal experience, having taught History in the Greek secondary education - eager to pass facile judgment on this or that historical person's or group's deeds, as if it were simple or easy to make important decision, as if the actants of history could see things as simple and clear-cut as we can (sort of) see them with the benefit of hindsight. This tendency to look for heroes and villains in a framework of 'foundation myths' and narratives seeps into the way people form their political judgments, or what passes for political judgment in a world where nuances are overlooked and complications are ignored (with great contribution from the press, or what passes for press these days). At any rate, historical events look like distant, dreary tips of icebergs floating somewhere far from where we are, and we are taught nothing about what they mean and how to use that meaning. This is the case particularly in peaceful, affluent times.

And then hard and turbulent times hit us. Even the most blissfully ignorant must be aware we are now going through such times. Perhaps this is the first time in our history that two consecutive generations, raised in relative peace and prosperity, are confronted with a much harsher reality than the one they (we) were raised to expect as a matter of course. Day by day the world becomes more shaky, shifting towards a shape that would look more familiar to my grandparents and great-grandparents (some of them were refugees). Less stability, more economic hardhsip, more heart-heartedness and selfishness, but also a different awareness, an alertness which only hardship can raise. 

Until recently, a majority of young (and not so young) people never had to think seriously about anything beyond their own narrow circle of people and interests; it was the times of idioteuein, of living life only on the private level. Interestingly, this Greek word also means 'to be stupid.' (It is where the English word 'idiot' comes from). But now young people - and older people whose brains have not yet set into a cement-like stolidness - begin to see for themselves how difficult it is to see ahead and to know what's best, how tangled and complicated this supposedly straightforward relationship of cause and effect is, how time is a dimension as important as all the other dimensions of the physical world - only we cannot ever grasp this one. In other words, they (we) begin to see how history works, and how we are all materials for history. 

                                                            ***

I am writing this post one year after the Scottish referendum for independence, when the Scots let fear win over hope - temporarily. In the meantime, another referendum two months ago in my native Greece decided that hope should win over fear, only for hope to be turned into something for which I have no words; the only thing I can think of to describe the situation is Uncle Vanya's bitter and demented laughter, at the very end of Chekhov's play, in a performance I saw in Thessaloniki a very long time ago. It is strange how the sound and tone of that laughter were stored quietly in my memory all those years and have now re-emerged on the eve of yet another election in Greece. It is an unaccountable thing, memory. 

Theory is Spot On!

One of the things I find less fascinating about my PhD research is the absolute necessity of reading theory. When all I want is to sit down and engage with imaginary people in more or less imaginary settings, the rigorous application that theory demands from me seems more like a chore than a pleasure. One gets used to it, of course. And the next step is to realise that theory is important, not only for its academic uses, but for its relevance to reality, to real life. 
Here is an example. Walter Benjamin wrote this in One-Way Street (See One-Way Street and Other Writings, tr. by Edmund Jephcott and Kingsley Shorter. London & New York: Verso, 2006 [1979], p. 56) in the 1920s:

Even the title is portentous.

"Poverty disgraces no man." Well and good. But they disgrace the poor man. They do it, and then console him with this little adage. It is one of those that may once have held good but have long since degenerated. ... When there was work that fed a man, there was also poverty that did not disgrace him, if it arose from deformity or other misfortune. But this deprivation into which million are born and hundred of thousands are dragged by impoverishment, does indeed disgrace. Filth and misery grow up around them like walls, the work of invisible hands. And just as a man can endure much in isolation, but feels justifiable shame when his wife sees him bear it or suffers it herself, so he may tolerate much as long as he is alone, and everything as long as he conceals it. But no one may ever make peace with poverty when it falls like a gigantic shadow upon his countrymen and his house. Then he must be alert to every humiliation done to him and so discipline himself that his suffering becomes no longer the downhill road to grief, but the rising path of revolt. But of this there is no hope so long as each blackest, most terrible stroke of fate, daily and even hourly discussed by the press, set forth in all its illusory causes and effects, helps no one uncover the dark powers that hold his life in thrall."

Except for the reference to 'man' as the default position of the human race and woman ('his wife') as its complement - which is not unexpected in a text written almost ninety years ago - this text could have been written just a few days ago. 
It evokes the atmosphere of bleak disappointment that fell like a heavy blanket over Scotland the day after slightly more than half of the voters gave in to fear and said No. 
It describes the BBC's ('the press') nasty role in obscuring the truth and in propagating illusions that help to hold our lives in thrall to a corrupt system. 
It points out the only way out of this: 'not the downhill road to grief, but the rising path of revolt.' 
This path of revolt doesn't need to be, and won't be, violent, but informed, broad-minded, and determined: things, on the whole, much more scary to 'the dark powers' than violence, which 'they' know and condone and nurture, as the events at George Square showed very clearly only a few hours after their 'victory.'  
Benjamin's warning about the catalytic role of the media is especially pertinent; that is where the difference must be made, for real change. Well, it seems that things might be going towards that direction.

Hope or Fear?

Bus-stop on Byres Road yesterday. 

Only one day to go and the people of Scotland will decide on one of this most important of all political issues: self-determination. This referendum is not at all about ethnic identity. If it was, I wouldn't have a say in it, not being a Scot by birth. Actually, the fact that only residents are allowed to vote, regardless of their ethnic origin, while Scots who do not live here are not has caused much opprobrium, mostly to anti-independence supporters, who will accuse the pro-Indy side as 'nats' in the same breath, and never see the irony!
There is nothing nationalistic about independence: it is about self- determination, de-centering, moving away from an anachronistic, unfair political system, away from a  Union which still nurses illusions of imperial grandeur and indulges in bouts of war-mongering, towards a fairer, more egalitarian, nuclear-free society.

Bairns, Not Bombs. Independence will mean a
nuclear-free Scotland. 

 I can see why people would vote No: long habit (300 years is a not a negligible time), emotional attachment, and fear of the unknown - fear that has systematically been played upon, exploited and cultivated by the establishment en masse: UK government, media, banks, big business, even celebrities fell over themselves to convince 'the Scots' (I'd give anything to dive into their heads and see the mental image they had of 'the Scots') that they love them and please, please don't go. On the other hand, diametrically opposite this over-sentimentalised, almost saccharine attitude, the leader of the No campaign looks and sounds like the accounts manager of Grunnings [1], banging on non-stop about money, pensions and currency, and looking disgusted and sarcastic when hope, imagination, or radical ideas about self-government are brought into the discussion.
At the PostGraduate induction party today at uni, in which I was one of the hosts, the buzz was certainly pro-independence. There is no choice for me, really, but I understand that for some people it is a very hard one, and I respect that. 
But 97% of the eligible population has registered to vote. Regardless of the result, Scotland will never be the same again: people take this thing seriously, and rightly so. Even if they decide to say No to Independence - saying yes to fear and being bullied at the hands of a ruthless establishment at the same time - things will never be the same again. Within the next few years - and particularly if there is a Conservative / UKIP government in the next elections, which seems highly likely - this discussion will be revived. And there will be a resounding Yes then. But I'll be voting Yes this time round too. 


[1] Grunnings: fictional company selling drills in which Harry Potter's awful Uncle Vernon is director. I still can't understand how J.K. Rowling found it in her heart to side with those people. But I suppose they are her friends now. Oh well. Sigh. 

A Desk of One's Own, Bedroom Tax, and Lotteries

I'm not going to write about those precious things threatened by a possible Yes in the Scottish Referendum in two week's time, such as the Bedroom Tax, the National Lottery, and even private possessions (according to some terrified No supporters). I'm going to write about working space. 
Working space (i.e. a desk of one's own) is very important when you're doing a PhD, but setting one up is not as straightforward as it sounds. In theory, all PhD students are offered office space at the commencement of their studies. In practice - alas! - an office of one's own is a dream equivalent to winning the lottery. You actually have to win the lottery to get one. This is not a manner of speaking: it is the literal truth. After the academic year has started and office space has been allocated to those lucky ones whose scholarship terms particularly state they are entitled to office space (not all scholarships offer this - unfortunately mine doesn't), there is a waiting list for the rest, the order determined by lottery draws. Office space is allocated as it becomes available. Less than half of interested PhDs received one last year, and it is predicted that even fewer will receive one this year. The lottery list is only valid for the academic term, which means that you might have been one place away from getting a desk last year, but this year it's back to square one. No waiting lists. For some reason waiting lists are not on. I suppose it's considered as ludicrous, as, say, having waiting lists in the National Lottery: "Hey, I've been playing for fifty years, isn't it time I won something?" When the one and only criterion is luck, waiting lists just don't make sense.

The Itinerant Scholar, alias Academic Bag-lady,
opens shop every morning, carries it all back home
every night (no more book space in the locker).

Let so much be said for office space at uni, as Anna Comnena would say. But oh, for a room of one's own at home! One corner in the bedroom it is for me. I'm going slightly deaf from having the ipod permanently stuck into my ears, and pre-classical music doesn't do much to block the regular household noises anyway (I should be listening to Wagner perhaps, but then I'd go deaf much more quickly). If we had a spare room at home to turn into a study, we'd have to pay bedroom tax for it. Many would think that it's rich of the poor to want luxuries such as workspace for intellectual pursuits. The poor have no business being intellectuals, is what they think. 

 I'm not complaining, mind: I made certain choices in my life, which I don't regret for a minute, and which led to a - shall we say - definitely not opulent lifestyle. I'm happy with that. I don't ask for the taxpayer to fund my intellectual habit, either. (I do question - no, I directly refute and reject - the fairness of the Bedroom Tax, though). It would just be nice to have more support for intellectual pursuits where intellectual pursuits are institutionally nurtured. There surely must be a better way to do this than a lottery!  

 I inquired and was informed that the College of Art's decision had the support of student representatives. Fair enough, and this is what democracy is all about: representatives speak for those whom they represent. The good thing is that within such a system, as long as you speak to your representatives, and your representatives speak for you, you can change things that seemed a good idea at the time but don't really work after all. (Something for voters to think about for Sept. 18)

In the meantime, it' is a Corner of One's Own for me in the Postgraduate Study space for the CoA. I'm getting fond of it. Lovely soothing blue on the wall, and it's really quiet, so pre-classical music is fine even at a low volume.