Guest post - On The Age of Empire

I was invited to write a guest post here and so have decided to write about Eric Hobsbawm’s The Age of Empire – which I see as a good popular history book that reawoke my interest in the period. It’s the 3rd of his series of modern history books (the others being The Age of Revolution, The Age of Capital and The Age of Extremes).

The key point of the era he is writing about (1875-1914) is that it saw the territorial conquest of much of Africa and Asia that had hitherto remained independent by European colonial powers. In Africa, only Liberia and Ethiopia remained independent. This age of Empire saw not only territorial conquest but the spread of the capitalism. Underdeveloped parts of the world were partly integrated into what was becoming a global economy.

Being a Marxist, Hobsbawm goes into detail on the topic of economic change and economic development. This period marks the continuation of what can be seen as the ‘first phase’ of globalisation. Perhaps it is the second phase that we are living through now.

He sees the post-1875 period as a move away from the Cobden-Bright ideas of free trade into one of competing national economies. These national economies may be capitalist but they do not subscribe to the orthodoxies of free trade of what he dubs The Age of Capital (1848-75). Germany and the USA economically develop rapidly within tariff walls. This enables them to protect their domestic industries from British exports. The increasing division into national economies makes it more essential for European powers to obtain colonies to acquire cheap raw materials and markets for their goods.

Now, the Marxist interpretation of this period can be challenged, since it is not clear that that many colonies were actually profitable for their rulers. However, the perception at the time was that they could be. And, what’s more, the fear that a rival country would take the territory often spurred conquest. At this stage, rivalry between European nations tended to stick to the diplomatic and economic arena. It would only turn into military conflict later on.

The growth of social-democratic and workers’ movements is also of great interest to Hobsbawm. While not able to attain power given the nature of the German political system, the SPD still manages to emerge as the foremost party in the land. Its very strength implied that – by its rapid industrialisation – the German state had also created its main political opponents (the industrial proletariat).

The other interesting thing about much of the 1870s, 1880s and 1890s is that it is a period of deflation. Deflation is not something that really occurs much nowadays, but it was common then. This deflation partly spurs the move to a more protectionist world economy after the 1870s. But it also means that employers try to reduce workers’ nominal wages. This results in the growth of trade unionism and goes hand-in-hand with a growing political polarisation in advanced economies.

The end of the period also sees revolutions attempted in Turkey, Persia and Russia. These can be seen as the forerunner of later, modernising attempts in those societies.

In that way, the Age of Empire sets the stage for much of what happens in the 20th century – with nationalism and revolution continuing at a more intense level after 1914.

Let it Rain

Let it Rain is a film about the return of a French woman to her family home. She is a feminist intellectual and a Parliamentary candidate. For everyone in the house, the arrival of the feminist politician is like a stone falling upon a still lake. For her sister it reactivates all kinds of resentments- from those of an unloved child for a loved child- to those of a domestic housewife for her emancipated peer. For her sister's husband it presents a challenge to his position as the incompetent head of the household. For others too in the community it represents both a challenge and an opportunity: two drifters- Karim a hotel receptionist and Michel an amateur camera man- want to make a film about the feminist as an example of a successful women (a series on which the local television station appears to be running). Karim as well is tempted into infidelity- whereas Michel is sleeping with the sister of the feminist. Its all complicated- and we end up at one point with Michel, Karim and Agathe (the feminist) followed by a herd of sheep trying to walk to the local town- but the intention is there to make a film which thinks about the challenges within contemporary France of race and sex, does it succeed?

It does not really. That is partly the fault of the direction and the acting- there is no real sense that anything much is at stake here. I found myself curiously abstracted from the film- perhaps mildly amused but nothing more. Ultimately there are some wonderfully comic moments in the movie- pure slapstick for example a camera man dropping a slide into the baptismal font or the stupidity of Karim and Michel's questions- but they do not really go anywhere. I watched abstractly- enjoying the film and there is plenty to enjoy but it did not force me to think. The reason for this is partly because the film wraps its character's courses up so neatly- no one really loses at the end of the film- and every character is given a final scene of resolution. You could argue that all those resolutions are false- but in reality, the director does not give us any insight to say that- all the resolutions are bourgeois- the film is about family and the resolutions bring all the characters back to human companionship, but I did not get the feeling that there was any neccessary ominous tint in the happy story.

There is more than that though that confuses me about this film. For at its deepest it is a film about deep subjects- sex, relations between human beings, race- and yet it seemed to have no core. There was no coherence. You could read it as an anti-feminist film- the feminist politician learns she has to have a man to be happy. You could read it is a feminist film- the sister's dire life continues because she subjugates her desires to a series of inadequate men. You could read it as a film about the way that white France plays with ideas from the new left, without really caring or considering what Arabic France thinks. You could read it as a film about the unkindness of bourgeois humanity. I could go on- but none of those interpretations is sustained and some of them seem contradicted by other moments in the film. There is something intensely human about the film- which makes it hard to fit into a pattern- but then it comes up against the simplicity of the motivations it ascribes to some of its major characters and their worlds. Karim seems for example entirely non-plussed by any moral forboding when he neglects his wife to take a mistress- indeed the poor wife is forgotten about half way through the film and seems to be a mere dramatic device- a stage woman to be wheeled on as a prop (a further feminist or anti-feminist point?)

There is some nice humour here- its sweet and well meaning but without a message, there is nothing radical about it. Indeed one might argue that there is something deeply conservative about a film in which you see a radical feminist politician who has no political program- apart from being a bit headstrong. There is something light as a feather about the film- and for an evening out it is good entertainment. Go with that mindset and you will not be disappointed- there are some really nice moments, some good laugh out loud lines, but there is nothing here which will make you consider or rethink anything. I saw this on Thursday, its taken me so long to write a review, not because the film was bad but because I struggled to think of what to write. I actually think for once that says something about the film- there is something there but its light and amusing, there is no message, no description that you could not see elsewhere.

Go and be amused by the folly of mankind, but seek no answers as to why men and women are fools for you will not find them.

Enter the Barbarians

Livy had to explain why the Gauls had arrived in the middle of Italy. Livy's explanation takes the form of an account handed down to him by Roman tradition- but of course its an account viewed through the lens of Livy's historical intelligence and interpretation. Rather than seeing this account as anything to do with historical truth, it is best to see it as a mixture of tradition and conjecture- with the former supplying incidental data and the latter the pattern of events. It is to that pattern that I want to turn- it tells us something about the way that Livy understood the movement of barbarian tribes around the ancient world- a movement that endured as a feature of ancient politics right down unto the dying days of Rome in the 400s. Livy's explanations tell us a lot- both about the way that he thought about pastoral peoples- and about the way that he conceived of their political culture.

Livy's argument is primarily about economics- and particularly about over population. His argument goes thus. A King of the Gauls, Ambitgatus, had conquered the majority of that people and through peace their population had increased and wished to 'relieve his kingdom of the burden of surplus population'. Consequently he sent two of his nephews off to conquer new lands- one to southern Germany and the other into Italy. Bellovesus who was sent to Italy collected 'the surplus population' and marched southwards- attracted by reputation of the vineyards and luxuries of Italy they pushed on eventually over the Alps and into the territories of Etruscan city states. That story is an economic one- it is about an over populated area of the world spilling its surplus population, in the form of military migration, into Italy. (V 34)

That account though is undercut by a second account which Livy seems to offer- and which haunts the background of this economic story. He introduces Ambigatus's problem by commenting not merely on the relief to the kingdom of removing these people, but also upon the fact that 'effective control of such large numbers was a matter of serious difficulty'. The fact that the two leaders are the two nephews of the King is also suggestive of another type of story told here- lurking here- behind the economic one. One in which what we are actually seeing is a political migration- the old story that finding 'new homes' is an alternative to finding new kings. (V 34)

Livy errs towards the first- that is the emphasis in his narrative. The political story is a matter of a throw away comment- and Livy did not base this on any particular deep research into barbaric history or customs. His culture was turned inward on Rome- and his very project- a history of the city and its transformation into an empire (with the empire very much as the backdrop to the story of Roman triumph) was a project of urban and insular history, not pastoral and global history.

However implausible his stories about the Gallic rise and march on Rome are as history- they are interesting as conjecture and they add another layer to the sociological points that Livy made about the Aequi and Volscii in Book III. The point is that Livy is charting here or attempting to chart not merely the condemnation of these barbaric forces but a map of the reasons behind their rise and fall, the ebb and flow of their raids. Those ebbs and flows for Livy are ultimately determined by economic forces- by overpopulation in particular. Overpopulation leads to economic and political pressures upon the barbaric state- and Livy implies that that is the reason why those states overflow their boundaries (set by the civilised world) and embark on disturbing the urban polities that they surround.

Explanations

Every historian faces a problem. History in part is about buildiing a narrative of causation- but so muhc of history is contingent, about surprise and unexpected disaster or triumph. Livy no less than other historians faced this problem. In his story of Rome, he had to explain setbacks as well as advances. Focussed on Rome, the story that Livy wanted to tell was that advance and setback were both motivated through internal factors to Rome. His view of Rome was that internal factors either undermined or promoted Rome's chances of survival: character determined history and in particular Rome, under special protection by its Gods and with a special martial character, could determine its own history. This point is central to Livy's narrative. But it leaves him with a problem- what had happened when as in 395 when the Gauls invaded and seized the city, Rome had almost failed.

Livy's answer to this is to argue that Rome's failures were owed to its temporary impiety. Like the historians of the Old Testament, he attributed failures of the state to its internal failures rather than to external factors. As the Gauls invade, a debate wages within Rome about whether Romans should move to Veii- a move that Livy, through the mouth of Camillus argues is impious. (V 30) Livy adds to that though by demonstrating that Romans at this point did something unprecedented- when the censor Gaius Julius died, they appointed a new censor to join his colleague- rather than as in the future electing two new censors. (V 32) Furthermore they neglected a prophesy about the Gallic invasion from the plebeian Caedicus (V 32). These small indicators become for Livy indicators of something greater- he gives other causes including further impiety- but it is important that he introduces the episode of the Gallic invasion with these moments, it is a demonstration for Livy that the cause is still internal to Rome. Rome's failure and fall are caused by its own failure religiously to either respect its own Gods, its own divine offices or prophesies sent to warn it.

Livy would move to describe then why he deemed the Gauls had moved, and why Rome's response to them was particularly bad- but these indications set the tone of his commentary. The Gallic invasions were due not so much to Gallic activity- as to failures in Roman character.

Rashomon

Ryunosuke Akutagawa's short story shares its title and setting with Kurosawa's famous film but little else. It is the decline of a civilisation expressed in a short burst of important prose. Unlike Kurosawa's film which has almost no time to it, Akutagawa's is located very definitely within the history of Japan and Kyoto- and the decline of the nobility in the middle ages. The Rashomon is a ceremonial gate just outside Kyoto- at the time of which Akutagawa was writing though, 'no one bothered to maintain the Rashomon. Foxes and badgers came to live in the dilapidated structure, and they were soon joined by thieves. Finally it became the custom to abandon unclaimed corpses in the upper storey of the gate, which made the neighbourhood an eerie place everyone avoided after the sun came down'. Under this gate sits an ex-servant of a nobleman who has just been sacked- the servant 'had no idea what he was going to do', his only objective was 'to find a way to keep himself alive for one more day' and thus he sat, deciding between starvation and becoming a thief.

Ethically Akutagawa leaves us in no doubt of the correct judgement- it would be right for the servant to starve- suicide in this case is a duty. The story though is about that choice- the servant meets a woman in the upper hall of the gate, who is stealing hair from the corpses in order to make wigs- she justifies this by saying that she needs to survive and that the dead when alive sold snake meat and pretended it was fish so that they might survive. The argument that morality may be broken in cases of necessity, has become through the poverty of Japan, an argument that may be used in any eventuality. This is a society that lives by necessity not by morality. Every character ultimately in the ten pages faces a bleak choice- to die or to deal another blow to right and wrong. In Kyoto's decline the issue is what should the servant do?

Exploring that moral choice, implies that such a choice exists. Akutagawa definitely thinks that there is a sense in which there is a choice and a sense in which there is not a choice here. The servant can deliberate about this- he chooses when he does rashly in a moment. But equally the factors impelling the servant along the path he treads are the grimmest possible- in the Western tradition where say a Jew may eat non-Kosher if it saves his life and a Jesuit may utter a politique lie if it saves his the servant might be entitled to commit the crime. He has our sympathies. The issue is complicated by the way that the novelist captures the moment of choice- we often think of choice as deliberation, but actually what he describes is an impulse. As Heisenberg says in Frayn's play Copenhagen- it is only after we make choices that we can see what they meant and what they say about us. Free will here is not an illusion but is an impulse- our actions are not considered, they are committed.

Something follows from this which is a bleak insight into human life- and particularly political life. The darkness of the short story is envisaging a time of uncomfortable bleakness- but Akutagawa's point is that this darkness permeates us. That the soul is not its own place- that we are ourselves contextualised beings. The appeal to neccessity can be abused- and there is a worthwhile argument that all these people are abusing it- but it also exists and it exists for those who face great troubles. As those troubles advance, so our moral judgement recedes- as the sky grows darker outside, so do the rooms inside the head (and to complete my analogy, we have no electric lighting!) Contextualising moral decision is important- whatever theoretical understanding theology or philosophy can give us into how people make decisions, decisions are made here and whilst there are almost no theoretical decisions, there are many actual ethical decisions. To reduce to principles is to ignore the context that explains and may limit the role of moral thinking for each individual.

Of Time and the City

Of Time and the City is about a journey- it is not a conventional journey from a start point to an end point- but a journey from birth to death and yet a journey that's circular, that pivots around a series of points- religion, personality, politics, childhood, adulthood and last of all, Liverpool. You cannot separate this film from its director, Terence Davies, Catholic, Homosexual and Liverpudlian nor can you separate the man, lonely in the immensity of the darkness surrounding his voice, lonely in the midst of the images of Liverpool, from his context, from his history. In that sense- this is a repetition- in the best way that art can repeat of the point that Borges made in Pierre Menard- that we are all trapped in our times, trapped in our bodily form, trapped ultimately in history.

Making that impression count, making it work means showing us the history. The most spectacular thing about this film is that it uses a stock of old black and white images of Liverpool- this is worth buying on DVD just to see those images of the Liverpool of the fifties and the sixties- the old streets going down almost vertically, lines of houses marching in parade, the front door steps of working class houses shining in the sun, the docks, the factories. It is a film about the story of Liverpool as much as it is about the state of Liverpool- Davies repeats across the soundtrack the words of Shelley on Ozymandias- the lone and level sands stretching far away for him are the passing steam trains roaring into tunnels. The civic Ozymandii stand at the town hall- their domain Victorian industrialism, their downfall the story of Liverpool since the days when it was the crucial point in a system of commerce binding together the north and the south, the west and the east.

Politics overlays this film in another way too- for if you cannot escape the history of Britain over the last fifty years- from war and coronation to war and Coronation Street- then you cannot escape a more profound story. Across the face of the film come images of a past that the West will never escape- the image of the Cross, that Constantine saw upon the Milvian Bridge and that ever since has dominated Western politics and conscience. This is a film about Catholicism- not only about its pull on the conscience- Davies is quite clear about his own process of atheising- but about its pull on the imagination. For Davies in his historicity is a Catholic- he may be an atheist but he is a Catholic atheist. For him the waters of Babylon are the reminders of loss, the drinkers in the bar of a hotel remind him of the Mesopotamian revellers who disgusted the ancient Israelites and the power of the church remains as architecturally present in this film as any other power. The Church, the building and the faith, dominates his imagination just as it dominates the imagination of any sentient Westerner- we cannot avoid or evade it, we may not live in a society of Christian faith, but we live in a society immersed in the even longer and more important though less eschatological story of Christian history.

History of course is both civic and patriotic- as we are discovering with Livy- but it is also personal. For Davies- like for Guy Maddin in My Winnipeg (a film that this is similar too) our pasts are our presents. For Davies his life coils around the city of Liverpool- it runs through and in and out but it is always present there- but the Liverpool his life is influenced by is both a real place and an imagined place. He shows us at one point images of the present Liverpool- of scummy council houses and graffiti- of the British ability to turn the heights of display into images of disappointment and signs of the dismal. The film has a cutting social edge- Davies reminds us the poor have no time and the rich have the time to make other people spend their time. Betty and Phil (the Queen and her husband) are shown strolling up and waving demurely at the people- and counter posed with pensioners who can hardly find the money to afford a cup of tea and a cold piece of toast.

We must not lose sight though of the personal- for Davies's point is more interesting than most- it has to do with the difference between contemplation and experience (a difference that C.S. Lewis usefully borrowed from Alexander in the 1930s). The point that Davies makes is that we live through our childhood and then we contemplate about it for the rest of our lives- we become an endless curl of contemplation, an endless return. Nirvana in this sense is in our self forgetting. "Is sleep death?" he asks- not so much for an answer but for a reminder that both share the same quality- in both moments we might imagine absolute contemplation (which could well be absolute nothing) fused with absolute inaction. From childhood to adulthood to the dream world where we ourselves dissolve into our thoughts.

I have rhapsodised on some of Davies's themes- he doesn't make all these points in the same way as I have- but his form is an essay and I feel entitled to run with some of his ideas and see what use I can make of them. His form is an essay I say- it is an essay running through a film- using music and image to suggest and amplify and even define a point. His voice, a soft formal presence, is also there- alone save for a couple of moments (one where Round the Horn comes on) it takes us through the streets of Liverpool. Some people say the voice is sarcastic- I don't think it is, rather I think it is a sad voice- sad not so much that the world is worse than it was but that his world is worse than it was. He has made the transition from youth to age, from the toddlers so wonderfully captured on film (there is one priceless moment where a little girl steps forward, decides to step backwards and then runs to tell her mother of the achievement) to the dignified pensioners also there, with their craggy scouse features, bent on the doorsteps of the industrial remnant of their town.

This is an excellent film- and I have not done it justice- it is beguiling and its imagery is wonderful. Basically an old man's memories, it captures your attention with a wit I have not described fully (tu es petrus does indeed translate as You're a brick Pete, but I'm not sure that is the current official Vatican version)- and it is profound and interesting. Watch it if you are interested in cinema- if you are interested in the history of Liverpool, watch it and I'd even say when its out on DVD buy it.

Non-combatents at Falerii

Falerii was conquered by the Romans shortly before the Gallic invasion which concludes Livy's story. Its conquest though is worth pausing over for a minute because it gives us an idea of what Livy (and his audience) thought were the laws of war. Falerii was surrounded by Camillus. Having been surrounded, we are then told by Livy that a school master to the senior men of the town took his charges for strolls of greater or lesser extent.

One day he saw his chance for a longer stroll than usual and took his young charges right through the enemy camp to Camillus's tent. (V 27)

The obvious consequence was that Rome for a moment held important hostages and could have potentially forced the surrender of the city, but Camillus refused to do so. Rather he addressed the schoolmaster,

Neither my people nor I, who command their army, happen to share your tastes. You are a scoundrel and your offer is unworthy of you. As political entities there is no bond of unity between Rome and Falerii, but we are bound nonetheless and always will be by the bonds of a common humanity. War has its laws as peace has, and we have learned to wage war with decency no less than with courage. We have drawn the sword not against children who even in the sack of cities are spared, but against men, armed like ourselves.... These men, your countrymen, you have done your best to humiliate by this vile and unprecedented act: but I shall bring them low... by the Roman arts of courage, persistance and arms. (V 27)

Camillus thus sent the schoolmaster and his charges back to the city- the boys whipping the schoolmaster as they went. The citizens of Falerii were so impressed that according to Livy they surrendered the city immediatly to the Roman commander.

As ever who knows how true this story is. But the important point is not the story- the capture of Falerii was not a world changing event- but the point that Livy seeks to make through the story. Camillus here represents the ideal Roman response to the position he was placed in. The ideal Roman response was to reject the offer- for two key reasons. Firstly and this is important to understand, this story illustrates the boundaries of Roman doctrines of war. It demonstrates that Livy and his audience thought that children should be excluded from war as a matter of course. Secondly it illustrates the degree to which such strategems were thought to be opposite to the kind of courage that Livy and Camillus see as a political virtue. The laws of war set out expectations for each side and thus allow both to anticipate the other's moves- the arts of war are the arts of courage- and can be united in the adjective Roman because of this. War takes place in the open.

Lastly it is worth noting that Livy attaches a reward to following these laws. Good behaviour produces good results- this is very notable in Livy's discussions of religion as well. You do the right thing and you are rewarded for it. In this sense Livy's conception of morality- something to follow which is right and will give you success- differs from some modern understandings of morality where you do something because it is right and irrespective of whether it delivers success. In that sense we are closer to the medievals than the classics.