FadeTheButcher
07-19-2004, 08:39 AM
http://education.guardian.co.uk/print/0,3858,4970174-108228,00.html
Over the past 20 years Britain's love affair with the living past has mushroomed, which is why 'heritage' is no longer a dirty word, says Tristram Hunt
Wednesday July 14, 2004
The Guardian
Although the sun doesn't often make an appearance, summer is upon us. And across our bloody meadows, open commons, and ancient forests Britain's heritage army is steeling itself for combat. As July merges into August, the great battles of the English Civil War, the Wars of the Roses, even the Roman invasion will once again be re-enacted to the delight of millions. For summer is the season of heritage.
Since it was first widely identified some 20 years ago, Britain's love affair with the living past has mushroomed both in popularity and as a realm of critical inquiry. An initial concern for preserving the built environment against the worst excesses of modernism had transformed itself by the mid-1980s into a broader, popular enthusiasm for reviving the lifestyles and heroism of the past. Today, English Heritage runs a giant annual festival of history, the Heritage Lottery Fund supports an admirably diverse range of heritage groups, while clubs such as the Sealed Knot and the English Civil War Society form major components of historical civil society.
What does all this say about the nature of modern British identity? Is the heritage industry in danger, as David Cannadine once argued, of encouraging "a neo-nostalgic, pseudo-pastoral world of manufactured make-believe, a picture-postcard version of Britain and its past, titillating the tourist with tinsel 'traditions'"? Or is it, in fact, a liberating, progressive, and culturally pluralist force giving voice to a thousand lost histories which would otherwise lie unvisited in hidden tombs as the late Raphael Samuel used to suggest? This week, a major conference on Heritage and identity in the UK today will attempt to unpick some of these themes.
And one of the most contentious will be the role of the media in the heritage boom - a trend recently seen to most obvious effect in the successful Restoration series, now returning to our screens for a second edition. There is little doubt that, on the one hand, film, television and radio have been highly adept at generating the kind of kitsch, antique vista of Britain that could easily fall under the heritage theme park rubric. And here one would certainly include the Merchant Ivory oeuvre, the superb ITV Brideshead Revisited, and the myriad Jane Austen remakes.
Yet, at the same time, the media has also helped to rescue "heritage" from the conservative stranglehold the label often seemed to suggest. It is thanks to engaging television programmes on Sikh migration to Britain, or radio journeys through Victorian townscapes, or narratives of Highland history that a broader, more inclusive idea of "heritage" has developed. Today, I would suggest, when most people see the word "heritage" (heritage trail; heritage site) they do not instinctively bristle. Instead, they are more intrigued to find out if it is part of "their" heritage.
But there are difficulties inherent in the media diffusion of heritage and most especially for the BBC. For what so much of today's heritage is about is the portrayal of unique identities which have been traditionally underplayed by dominant narratives. So now pretty much everyone has, in a sense, a subaltern history, from Sikh migrants to the traditional white working class. How do you combine those histories with a broader, shared conception of our island story - as Simon Schama tried in his History of Britain series. In an age of fractured, complementary, sometimes competing identities, should the BBC as state broadcaster be drawing together unifying British strands under the banner of national heritage? Certainly, that seemed part of the ambition of Melvyn Bragg's ITV series, The Adventure of English. And this kind of multi-layered, reflexive programme stressing Britain's role within a broader cultural story of international development is probably the right approach.
What is the role of the historian in the heritage media? For part of the liberating popularity of heritage is the very absence of the historian. The priesthood has withdrawn and instead the individual is free to interrogate the past as they see fit. This is the democracy of heritage - everyone has their own story and, according to a recent document from the Archives Task Force, the "exploration of personal history and identity should be the right of every citizen". And here, surely, is the key to the mongrel genre of history and reality TV: everyday folk thrown into the past to explore what is frequently presented as the "people's history." The success of Edwardian Country House or Regency House Party was partly, no doubt, due to the complete lack of historical analysis.
Nonetheless, the format of these programmes is underpinned by certain ideological and historical decisions taken by unnamed producers rather than intellectually accountable historians. While few (apart from historians) would be keen to return exclusively to the old lantern lecture-style of history, there does seem room for a more rigorous analysis of historian-free history.
However, what is more marked is the failure of the media to deal with heritage as a subject. Here exists an intriguing constituent of post-modern, post-industrial British society and yet it has no Alan Bennett, Alan Bleasdale, or David Hare to dissect it. Which is all the more bizarre since among the camp tents, archery competitions, and field hospitals of this summer's heritage Britain exists enough material for a Tom Stoppard trilogy. · Tristram Hunt's new book is Building Jerusalem: The Rise and Fall of the Victorian City.
Over the past 20 years Britain's love affair with the living past has mushroomed, which is why 'heritage' is no longer a dirty word, says Tristram Hunt
Wednesday July 14, 2004
The Guardian
Although the sun doesn't often make an appearance, summer is upon us. And across our bloody meadows, open commons, and ancient forests Britain's heritage army is steeling itself for combat. As July merges into August, the great battles of the English Civil War, the Wars of the Roses, even the Roman invasion will once again be re-enacted to the delight of millions. For summer is the season of heritage.
Since it was first widely identified some 20 years ago, Britain's love affair with the living past has mushroomed both in popularity and as a realm of critical inquiry. An initial concern for preserving the built environment against the worst excesses of modernism had transformed itself by the mid-1980s into a broader, popular enthusiasm for reviving the lifestyles and heroism of the past. Today, English Heritage runs a giant annual festival of history, the Heritage Lottery Fund supports an admirably diverse range of heritage groups, while clubs such as the Sealed Knot and the English Civil War Society form major components of historical civil society.
What does all this say about the nature of modern British identity? Is the heritage industry in danger, as David Cannadine once argued, of encouraging "a neo-nostalgic, pseudo-pastoral world of manufactured make-believe, a picture-postcard version of Britain and its past, titillating the tourist with tinsel 'traditions'"? Or is it, in fact, a liberating, progressive, and culturally pluralist force giving voice to a thousand lost histories which would otherwise lie unvisited in hidden tombs as the late Raphael Samuel used to suggest? This week, a major conference on Heritage and identity in the UK today will attempt to unpick some of these themes.
And one of the most contentious will be the role of the media in the heritage boom - a trend recently seen to most obvious effect in the successful Restoration series, now returning to our screens for a second edition. There is little doubt that, on the one hand, film, television and radio have been highly adept at generating the kind of kitsch, antique vista of Britain that could easily fall under the heritage theme park rubric. And here one would certainly include the Merchant Ivory oeuvre, the superb ITV Brideshead Revisited, and the myriad Jane Austen remakes.
Yet, at the same time, the media has also helped to rescue "heritage" from the conservative stranglehold the label often seemed to suggest. It is thanks to engaging television programmes on Sikh migration to Britain, or radio journeys through Victorian townscapes, or narratives of Highland history that a broader, more inclusive idea of "heritage" has developed. Today, I would suggest, when most people see the word "heritage" (heritage trail; heritage site) they do not instinctively bristle. Instead, they are more intrigued to find out if it is part of "their" heritage.
But there are difficulties inherent in the media diffusion of heritage and most especially for the BBC. For what so much of today's heritage is about is the portrayal of unique identities which have been traditionally underplayed by dominant narratives. So now pretty much everyone has, in a sense, a subaltern history, from Sikh migrants to the traditional white working class. How do you combine those histories with a broader, shared conception of our island story - as Simon Schama tried in his History of Britain series. In an age of fractured, complementary, sometimes competing identities, should the BBC as state broadcaster be drawing together unifying British strands under the banner of national heritage? Certainly, that seemed part of the ambition of Melvyn Bragg's ITV series, The Adventure of English. And this kind of multi-layered, reflexive programme stressing Britain's role within a broader cultural story of international development is probably the right approach.
What is the role of the historian in the heritage media? For part of the liberating popularity of heritage is the very absence of the historian. The priesthood has withdrawn and instead the individual is free to interrogate the past as they see fit. This is the democracy of heritage - everyone has their own story and, according to a recent document from the Archives Task Force, the "exploration of personal history and identity should be the right of every citizen". And here, surely, is the key to the mongrel genre of history and reality TV: everyday folk thrown into the past to explore what is frequently presented as the "people's history." The success of Edwardian Country House or Regency House Party was partly, no doubt, due to the complete lack of historical analysis.
Nonetheless, the format of these programmes is underpinned by certain ideological and historical decisions taken by unnamed producers rather than intellectually accountable historians. While few (apart from historians) would be keen to return exclusively to the old lantern lecture-style of history, there does seem room for a more rigorous analysis of historian-free history.
However, what is more marked is the failure of the media to deal with heritage as a subject. Here exists an intriguing constituent of post-modern, post-industrial British society and yet it has no Alan Bennett, Alan Bleasdale, or David Hare to dissect it. Which is all the more bizarre since among the camp tents, archery competitions, and field hospitals of this summer's heritage Britain exists enough material for a Tom Stoppard trilogy. · Tristram Hunt's new book is Building Jerusalem: The Rise and Fall of the Victorian City.