Issue 44 From Local to Global

FROM LOCAL TO GLOBAL

WELCOME

DECEMBER

Welcome to Issue 44 of the Manchester Historian!

Scale has emerged as a pivotal concern in contemporary historical scholarship, challenging historians to move beyond traditionally nation-bound narratives and embrace the complexity of multi-scalar analysis. Innovative approaches, ranging from the intimate focus of microhistory to the expansive reach of global history, reveal how history operates simultaneously on multiple levels. These scales are neither isolated nor static; rather, they are interwoven, constantly influencing one another. Within the local, one can often discern traces of the global—flecks of interconnectedness that transcend borders. Likewise, local practices, beliefs, and movements can resonate on a wider scale, shaping and reshaping global patterns. Phenomena such as industrialisation, colonialism, and globalisation demonstrate the historical significance of the interplay of scales. Yet these systems are far from monolithic and, throughout history, have been reshaped from below. A multi-scalar approach offers historians exciting avenues for exploring this terrain.

In this first issue of the 2024-25 academic year, we aimed to delve into the varied scales in which all history unfolds. We began by examining Manchester as a historical case study which vividly illustrates the local/global dynamic and interplay. These articles explore themes ranging from the city’s colonial legacy to its industrial innovations, showcasing how local histories resonate on broader scales. Beyond Manchester, this issue spans topics from ancient to contemporary history, reflecting our commitment to highlighting the diverse ways scale shapes historical narratives. Articles range from the lasting impact of the British Empire to the history of Jingdezhen Porcelain, each offering a unique perspective on scale, yet together, they emphasise the interconnectedness which has always been present throughout our historical eras.

We hope that this issue, through its exploration of historical themes still pertinent to our present, succeeds in recognising the innate connectivity that has shaped and continues to shape the human experience.

We’d like to thank all of the team for their commitment to producing this edition, which we’re very excited to share with you. We would especially like to extend our gratitude to Dr Laure Humbert for her support, alongside the Graphics Support Workshop for aiding us in training the new team. Lastly, this issue would not be possible without the creative and inspiring contributions of the students who dedicated their time writing for us, for which we are very grateful.

We hope you enjoy their work as much as we did!

Editors

Samuel Richardson

Agnes Parshall

Katia Moussallati

Head of Copy

Editing

Grace Ward

Lucy Markham

Copy Editors

Alice Bull

Jonathan Little

Joe Parkin

Aashe Singh

Kimberly Parry Por pres

Head of Design

Lucy Hemming

Nell Gliksten

Designers

Eyla Korkmazel

Eva McLoughlin

Mia Levy

Aimee Mclaren

Head of Online & Podcast

Shreya Mishra

Amber Cook

Head of Marketing

Niamh Stevens

IN THIS ISSUE

(de)Colonial Manchester: The Spatial Centring of Civic Colonialism (and its silenced resistance), by Jason Hao Ran Lee

Industrialisation and De-industrialisation Fundamentally Changed the Fabric of Manchester- To What Extent can their Impact Still be Seen and Felt to this Day?, by Lucy Charlton

MSWS and Feminism, by Verity Gibbs

Alan Turing Biography, by Samantha Edwards

The Philippines and America(-nisation), by Virgil Meaden

Digging the Panama Canal: The Deadly Legacy of Global Trade and its Local Impact, by Nancy Barlas

The Legacy of The Salt March, by Hunter Mirpuri

The Recipe for the Perfect Christmas Pudding: The Infusion of an Imperial Presence in Everyday British Society, by Priya Bains

Ambitious Teenager or Great Military Strategist? How Alexander the Great Conquered the World, by Maariya Daud

Athenian Democracy in Context: Political Innovation as a Response to Inter-City Rivalry, by Max Aris

Around the World and Back: The Porcelain of Jingdezhen, by Benjamin Wofford

The Golden Age of La Serenìssima, by Christopher Turner

How did Baghdad Develop into a Centre of Global Knowledge Exchange? by Hamza Mahesar

The Irish Language Revival Movement, by Lucy Mortell

Second-Wave Feminism and Suburbia: The Disillusion of the American Dream, by Verity Highe

Cultural Resilience: Interracial Couples and Jamaican Heritage in 1980s Birmingham, by Sienna Gardner

The War Game: How misinformation, paranoia and technical fault heated up the Cold War, by Hanna Saunders

How Can the Everyday Lives of Slaves on Plantations Inform the Study of the Global Slave Trade? by Emma Purvis

How Did the Printing Press Facilitate the Spread of Ideas in Europe, Such as the Reformation? by Hayly Cregor

Thread of Empire - A Legacy of Trade, Industry, and Inequality, by Tommy Ward

Immunity and Empire: The Role of Infectious Diseases in Shaping Colonial Dominance, by

Does the Intended Audience of a Film Often Impact its Content? by Harry Hudson

Doing Things our Own Way, by Teddy (Edward) Bellamy

From Plantations to Motown: the development and recognition of Black American music until the 1960’s, by Maeve Naismith

(DE)COLONIAL MANCHESTER

The Spatial Centring of Civic Colonialism (and its silenced resistance)

Jason Hoa Ran Lee

From the commemoration of Peterloo to the Pankhursts, Manchester advertises itself as a city of progress. Reflections upon Manchester’s imperial past however will inevitably lead to conclusions that this progress often excludes and silences global majorities and working class histories. Only by spatially decolonising Manchester, will working class residents of colour be heard, and it is only through the local that we will decolonise. In the nineteenth century Manchester’s population more than quintupled, going from the eighty-second to the third most populated city in the UK. Yet more astounding is Manchester’s centrality in the story of Britain’s industrial revolution. ‘Cottonopolis,’ as Manchester would come to be known, was the primary site of Britain’s textile industry, which came to employ one in six British workers and made up over twenty percent of Britain’s economic production.

Manchester’s colonial legacy can clearly be seen through the prism of one of Manchester’s most prominent architects, Alfred Waterhouse. Waterhouse’s father found his wealth as a cotton broker during the time of the Transatlantic Slave Trade and earned additional capital when the government committed to abolition and compensated those involved in the enslavement of their fellow human beings. Like Manchester, Alfred Waterhouse did not rise to prominence directly in the business of slavery, but did so indirectly. Waterhouse is recognized for his Gothic-style designs, including Manchester Town Hall and several northern universities, notably the Quadrangle of Owens College, which later became Victoria University and is now the University of Manchester. These examples of the expanding civic sphere have similarly been touted as examples of Manchester’s progressivism in growing municipal welfare and expansion of ‘red brick’ education.

Yet upon closer inspection, it becomes evident that these buildings do not honour the growing working class of Manchester—many of whom were actively advocating for better pay, working conditions, and the right to vote. Instead, they commemorate those who denied these rights and amassed wealth by exploiting the working class. Another case study is that of the Town Hall, whose spire is topped with a cotton ball, an explicit reference to Manchester’s textile trade which made many, such as John Owens, their money. Owens’ funding of Owens College, which opened in 1851, situates its history within a period when profits from the textile industry were derived from cotton produced by enslaved people in the American South and Brazil. Celebrations of philanthropists who profited from slavery were resisted in their day by abolitionists, often through touring speakers. Most notable amongst these touring speakers in Manchester was Henry ‘Box’ Brown, an African-American who spoke against slavery and detailed his famous escape by hiding in a mail delivery box. Many University of Manchester buildings, however, honour those who profited from the colonial project, planting their names and therefore their values upon Manchester’s physical map instead of the values of those who resisted them. Is it right, for example, that The University of Manchester has The John Owens Building but no Henry Brown Building?

Part of Manchester’s anti-racist history is officially and spatially memorialised, but it still privileges the endeavours of the wealthy. There is no representation of workingclass mill workers who pushed the boycott of cotton picked by enslaved people and gained a victory where many Manchester mills eventually conceded in refusing to use cotton from the Confederate States in 1862. Instead this episode is commemorated in Lincoln Square - centring the American President and triumphalist narratives, rather than the mill workers of Manchester, the resistance of enslaved people, or acknowledging the horrific crimes against humanity which industrialists, merchants, and therefore the city profited from. In our continued honouring of these symbols and objects, such as the slave ship on Manchester’s coat of arms itself, Manchester’s civic values of industrial progress and modernity obscure their exclusive and extractive nature. Manchester’s spatial honouring privileges the voices of the wealthy and therefore excludes and places Manchester’s working-class histories and migrant histories on the margins of official civic memory.

This colonial logic continues to inform Manchester’s spatial development and its relationships globally. Looking particularly at Ardwick, the coloniality of gentrification becomes more apparent. Not only is this displacement of residents a product of a financial coercion, but has often been accompanied with the co-option of radical and progressive aesthetics. Ardwick has seen the demolition of local hospitals and schools that has been followed by the construction of for profit rentals, an exploitative act co-opted by way of the renaming of a street to “Sylvia Pankhurst Way.” In what way does this exploitative act honour Manchester’s working-classes? Elite abolitionist mythologising has not only glossed over British profiteering but was deployed by contemporaries to further the British Empire. West Africa saw British profiteering from the slave trade replaced by direct British ‘protectorates,’ justified by narratives of an elite granted emancipation and the white man’s burden to civilise. Manchester City Council’s treatment of local residents can therefore imply a relationship akin to Empire.

What is apparent about Manchester spatially is that its development privileges the narratives of an elite which made its money from empire, and in the process removes and silences histories of resistance and radicalism. Only in a process that is open to truly remembering the values of those that resisted against slavery and the narratives of empire, can Manchester be the city it claims to be.

Manchester was the first industrial city, where industrialisation boomed bringing a historical shift in the fabric of the country as a whole. The end of the 18th and early 19th century marked a shift in British industry towards cotton and iron from a previously agriculturally-dominated background. The longevity of the effects of these changes cannot be understated. Industrialisation uprooted the traditional foundations of the country, altering and subverting livelihoods, with cottage industries being replaced by empire and capitalism. Given that Manchester was a spearhead of this, industrialisation and subsequent de-industrialisation were fundamental to the architectural, political and social foundations of the city.

Coined ‘cottonopolis’, the city boomed as a result of the transatlantic slave trade alongside industries of stone and iron, culminating in 1853 when Manchester was the second place to gain ‘city’ status in the country. The architectural impact of this is preserved within the city with industrial infrastructure littering the city’s landscape. The Great Northern Railway Company’s Goods Warehouse, nestled in between the modern skyscrapers of Deansgate, Spinningfields and St Peters Square serves as a reminder of the railway industry that was an instrumental contributor to the boom of industry, originating in Manchester in 1830 with the opening of the first inter-city railway, the Liverpool to Manchester line. Other architectural features indicate and preserve the heritage of industry in Manchester; the Corn Exchange erected in 1837, was once a hub of trade and commerce and is now a bustling site of restaurants and bars. The Royal Exchange, now a site of retail with the newest high street brands, was once a centre for 11,000 cotton merchants to buy, bargain and strike, gaining royal recognition from Queen Victoria in 1851. The city obviously seeks to preserve its industrial heritage; however, not all sites have benefited from such care and regeneration. Hidden under the Deansgate towers is the now empty and derelict Hotspur Press building; once home to 2,0000 employees of Medlock Mill, the building became a printing press for popular comics between 1933 and 1959 and was then taken over by artists who used it as studio space. Although the building is an industrial relic, regeneration plans have fallen into disrepair and it still lies abandoned. As much as the omnipresent nature of industry is undeniable in the city, de-industrialisation and the stagnancy this caused are still equally permeating and foundational to the fabric of the city.

Equally as omnipresent are the social and political effects with Manchester becoming the archetype for a city fallen victim to poor working conditions in the industrial boom. Life expectancies fell to as low as 28 in the 1830s as a result of overcrowding, pollution and disease prompting social revolutions as a result, with many demanding changes from institutions that permitted such dire conditions. Marxism, for example, was partly bred from seeing these poor working conditions in Manchester. Engaging with the working-class revolutionary Chartist movement, Marx and Engels saw the poor living conditions within the city spurring their new communist ideology which would impact generations on a global scale. This was one of many national and global ideological shifts which Manchester was at the start of.

As a result of modernising industries and commerce, increasing international imports, the world wars and later, Thatcherism, whereby major industries were nationalised and closed, much like most of the country, the city suffered.

To

INDUSTRIALISATION AND DE-INDUSTRIALISATION FUNDAMENTALLY CHANGED THE FABRIC OF MANCHESTER

what extent can their impact still be seen and felt to this day?

Lucy Charlton

Employment in the textile industry fell by 86% in the city, a figure which some areas never recovered from. Towns like Oldham where livelihoods depended on industry were left with no income, leading to a deterioration and collapse of the community and sense of identity. Social effects were as just as hard felt as economic ones as Manchester lost the industrial foundations on which the city was built, unsettling its sense of place much like many other Northern towns.

Out of this, however, emerged a resilient spirit in the city whereby culture exploded in response to the flux and change of the city. Punk rock emerged with the Sex Pistols’ legendary gig at the Lesser Free Trade Hall inspiring many with their anarchical response to the economic recession. Many bands and artists were bred out of this such as Joy Division, The Smiths and the formation of Factory Records. Even the name of the infamous record label serves to show how industrialisation and the people’s resistant response, underpins the cultural movements within the city solidifying it as the cultural and liberal hub that it is today.

The worker bee attitude of the people seems to continue, with the city continuing to revolutionise in order to buck the trend of industrial decline. Yet, the presence of this decline can still be felt and there is an undeniable sense of loss in certain areas and communities which never recovered, evident in abandoned buildings like the Hotspur Press and in towns where poverty is rife due to their industry being forgotten. The effect of this cannot be overshadowed, and Manchester is one among many other northern industrial hubs which seem to be overlooked and unsupported by governments focusing on new emerging industries rather than supporting the old.

Nevertheless, Manchester it seems, continues to persevere and the strength of the city is evident in its ability to adapt and lead new creative industries, whilst being proud and grounded in its industrial foundations. Manchester constantly pioneers new sectors and extends the fabric of the city, without forgetting the rich heritage of industry that laid the foundation.

MSWS AND FEMINISM

Verity Gibbs

The Manchester Society for Women’s Suffrage (MSWS) had a direct role in advancing feminism; it was a spark for the women’s enfranchisement movement and the origins of England’s feminist movement, so it was massively influential in advancing the feminist cause. Although the Society did not have direct success in achieving the vote for women, it did achieve many successes for women’s rights, for example, the passing of the Education Act of 1870 and the Municipal Franchise Act of 1869, and it provided a foundation for subsequent women’s suffrage organisations, such as the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies (NUWSS), which did have a direct role in gaining women the vote.

The MSWS was a spark for the women’s suffrage movement, and for the general feminist movement, because it was the first women’s enfranchisement organisation in England, and it placed Manchester at the leading edge of feminist campaigns during this period.

Lydia Becker established the Manchester Society for Women’s Suffrage in 1867, and Becker and the MSWS were very prominent in Manchester’s early feminist movement. The MSWS began with a meeting in the city’s Free Trade Hall on 14 April 1868, which was a rare occasion of women speaking out about their rights in public, and is seen as the start of the women’s suffrage campaign.

In 1869, Becker and her fellow campaigners were successful in securing the vote for women in municipal elections through the Municipal Franchise Act, and the right to vote for and sit on School Boards through the Education Act of 1870. Becker was one of four women elected to the Manchester School Board, on which she continued until her death. In 1870 Becker and her friend Jessie Boucherett founded

the Women’s Suffrage Journal, and she also organised a lecture tour of northern cities on behalf of the society, spreading her feminist ideas which made her one of the first women to openly speak about feminism in England.

Another major milestone that the MSWS helped to achieve was the Married Women’s Property Act of 1882, which allowed women to own and control property under their own names for the first time, keep income from property or employment, and manage their own finances.

Therefore, the MSWS played a crucial role in the development of feminism because it was the root of Britain’s feminist movement. Becker’s campaigning and lecture tour was influential in advancing the feminist cause and the MSWS was particularly successful in helping pass a number of acts that advanced women’s rights, including the Education Act, the Married Women’s Act, and the Municipal Franchise Act. These factors helped to give women more power in local politics, education, and their own finances.

ALAN TURING BIOGRAPHY

Samantha Edwards

Alan Turing was born on the 23rd of June 1912 in London. He was educated at Sherborne School, where he met his first love, Christopher Morcom. The pair shared an interest in mathematics and science; two interests which would define Turing’s remarkable career. Turing attended the University of Cambridge from 1931-1934 and graduated with a First in Mathematics. It was in 1936 that the first of many of Turing’s ground-breaking ideas came to fruition. He invented the ‘Turing Machine’, with the aim of disproving the ‘entscheidungsproblem’ (decision problem). The problem states whether an algorithm exists that can determine if an arithmetic statement is true or false. Turing proved that the ‘entscheidungsproblem’ was incorrect as no algorithm could exist that had such capabilities. Turing began his PhD at Princeton University in 1936; being mentored by Alonzo Church. Together they came up with the Church-Turing Thesis, which stated that a computer would be able to solve problems providing they solely contained ‘computable numbers’ (numbers that can be expressed as fractions). Their thesis paved the way for modern computer science as it demonstrated limits within algorithms.

Turing’s most recognisable achievement was undoubtedly his involvement in breaking the Enigma Code during the Second World War. Many believe that this shortened the war by as much as two years, saving thousands of lives in the process. As a member of the British Government’s Code and Cypher School, Turing was an obvious choice in helping to break Enigma. In Hut Eight in Bletchley Park, Turing and his team of fellow highly-skilled mathematicians created a code-breaking machine known as the Bombe. This machine was able to crack the Enigma Codes used by the German Navy to transmit communications. This supplied the Allies with vital military intelligence, which allowed them to foil planned attacks by German U-Boats. By 1942, Bombe machines were intercepting messages every thirty seconds. At the end of the war, Turing received an OBE for his services towards the Allied war effort.

Despite his miraculous achievements, Turing received very little public recognition for his efforts. Most of the information surrounding the activity at Bletchley Park was kept hidden from the public for five decades. Many documents were either destroyed or kept classified after the war.

Turing’s innovation did not end after the war. In 1945, he wanted to bring his ‘Turing Machine’ to life. In March 1946, Turing produced a detailed plan for what would become an electronic computer. He wanted to create a machine that would be able to solve problems, play games such as chess and answer questions that humans would not be able to. Turing relocated to the University of Manchester in 1948, and it was here that saw the birth of the modern computer. Turing focused on computer programming, effectively creating machines that had “brains”. In 1950, he created the ‘Turing Test’. A machine would pass the Turing Test if people could not tell if they were interacting with another person or a machine. It was not until 2014 that any machine passed the test. Turing published the first ever computer programming manual whilst teaching at Manchester. In 1951, the first electronic computer (the Mark 1) used Turing’s programming system. 1951 proved to be an incredibly successful year for Turing,

as he was made a Fellow of the Royal Society for his 1936 ‘Turing Machine’ idea.

However, in January 1952, Turing’s life took a turn for the worse. He was charged with ‘acts of gross indecency’ for engaging in sexual intercourse with another man. At this time, homosexuality was a serious criminal offence in England. Turing had two ‘choices’: he could either spend up to two years in prison or undergo ‘hormone therapy’ (essentially chemical castration). Turing chose the latter, and the ‘hormone therapy’ badly affected his physical and mental health. Turing’s criminal charge meant that he was no longer allowed to enter the United States or work for the British Government. He still held his position at Manchester and continued to work on his ideas about intelligent machinery. On 7th of June 1954, Turing was found dead in his Wilmslow home due to cyanide poisoning. His death was ruled as a suicide, although theories about assassination soon emerged. It is widely believed that the chemical castration that Turing was subjected to was the direct cause of his death. He was only forty-one.

Even today, evidence of Turing’s legacy remains rife. The Alan Turing Institute was created in 2015 to explore data science and in 2017, it branched its research into AI. Several universities work alongside the institute, the University of Manchester being one of them. The Turing Scheme has also been created in his honour, allowing British students from all backgrounds to work and study abroad. In 2014, Alan Turing’s life and work were turned into a film: The Imitation Game, starring University of Manchester alumni Benedict Cumberbatch.

Steps have also been made to make amends for Turing’s cruel treatment by the British Government. In 2009, Prime Minister Gordon Brown issued a formal apology to Turing, and in 2014 he received an official royal pardon from Queen Elizabeth II. In 2017, a law was passed in Turing’s name allowing men who had previously been convicted of homosexuality to apply for official pardons. Whilst this does not rectify Turing’s ordeal, it does show that steps have been made to create a more equal and just society than the one Turing lived in.

AMBITIOUS TEENAGER OR GREAT MILITARY STRATEGIST?

How Alexander the Great Conquered the World

Quo tendit tua, Magne, fames? quis finis habendi, Querendi quis erit modus aut que meta laborum? Nil agis, o demens. licet omnia clauseris uno Regna sub imperio totumque subegeris orbem, Semper egenus eris. Great One, where will your hunger lead? What end will come of grasping? Pray, what bounds are set unto your search? Where stands your labour’s goal? Madman, your works are naught. Though you enclose all kingdoms in one empire, and subdue the entire world, a pauper you remain forever.

Walter of Châtillon, Alexandreis

There is a continuing fascination of Alexander the Great, with the discovery of new facts about his life and the rehashing of the old. Fuelled by a love of the ancients, Alexander, nurtured on the battlefield by the age of sixteen, set out to conquer the world and create a long-standing empire. He would later become known as possibly the greatest general in history, one as legendary as Achilles - a hero he so revered.

At twenty, after becoming King following Philip II’s assassination, he set out from Macedonia on his lifelong voyage, and by the age of thirty, he had created one of the largest empires that spanned from Greece to India, colouring the world with a Hellenistic culture that was created through his conquests. Tutored by Aristotle in Macedonia, Alexander grew up to love and venerate philosophy and literature, and was most known for his tendency to sleep with The Iliad under his pillow, as well as a sword by his bed should anyone attack him (or the book). According to the chronicler Arrian, Alexander’s first demonstration of ambition was to untie the Gordian Knot - a piece of rope that was tangled so excessively that the oracle declared that any man who untied it would rule all of Asia. Though only a young and impetuous man, it is quite telling that Alexander, though he did not untie it so much as dismiss it with a bold stroke, was crowned victor of the Gordian Knot, and since then, began to conquer Asia. His slicing of the rope instead of meticulously sorting through the knot is perhaps a physical demonstration of his determination.

His conquests would begin with the Sacred Band of Thebes where, at eighteen, he fought in the Battle of Chaeronea, and the Sacred Band was felled. Though seemingly just a child, or a boy who had just matured into manhood, Alexander demonstrated such maturity in his strategies that it is no wonder he grew up to expand such an empire.

His conquests carried on into the Battle of Issus, where, against King Darius III, Alexander’s forces were outnumbered - with (though this is a fact that historians only estimate) 75,000 Greeks to 100,000 Persian soldiers.

Maariya Daud

However, it was Alexander who walked away victorious, and King Darius who fled. This then led to the Battle of Tyre, where a siege was orchestrated by Alexander. This allowed him to slowly work his way East, while gaining the prosperous city of Tyre where it lay by the Mediterranean sea, as a coveted city of trade and wealth. His need to reign the Persian Empire grew as he invaded it again, overthrowing Darius III and conquering the Achaemenid Empire. At the founding of Egypt, a Pharaoh was declared, and so the city of Alexandria became a major power in his name, and an epicentre for Hellenistic culture.

Alexander’s lifelong dream of conquering the Persian Empire did come into fruition. Though his conquering of regions and his methods - including destroying half of Tyre out of anger - raise ethical questions, the impact of his conquests shaped the world for future empires. Through him, the Greek language spread, littering the sciences, religion, and philosophy, and the fusion of East and West cultures was more apparent in various cities. Hellenistic culture became a hybrid of the countries that Alexander sought afterGreece, Persia, Egypt, India - and gave rise to cosmopolitan cities and urbanisation, where public spaces, agoras, and theatres were built excessively. Although it was founded after Alexander’s death, it is impossible not to mention the renowned Library of Alexandria, standing as it was as a hub for intellects and scholarly pursuits, and containing scrolls with an infinite breadth of knowledge on an entire wealth of subjects. Here, scholars from around the world congregated to learn from each other and follow their academic interests.

From taming the horse Bucephalus at a young age, to ‘taming’ or taking over a huge empire; Alexander the Great’s teenage ambitions allowed him to be the first leader to almost conquer the whole world. Though we can question the ethics of his actions for years, as well as his real purpose for doing them (were they just for personal glory?), we can also wonder whether it was his childhood that nurtured and cultivated such dreams and desires. There is no doubt that he was a great tactical genius, globalising Hellenistic culture in Europe and Asia.

ATHENIAN DEMOCRACY

ATHENIAN DEMOCRACY IN CONTEXT

IN CONTEXT: POLITICAL INNOVATION AS A RESPONSE TO INTER-CITY RIVALRY

Max Aris

With today’s headlines filled with conflict and rivalry, it is easy to question the relevance of studying the democratic nation-state of Athens. Many consider Athens the first example of a ‘modern’ democracy, born from the intense conflict and rivalry of the Ancient Mediterranean. By understanding the Athenian experience, does their reality mirror our own, and is there anything we can learn?

Following the fall of the Peisistratid tyranny of 510 BCE, a power vacuum plagued the city, creating an unstable basis through which intense rivalries were forged. Athens was divided by fierce factional rivalries, with powerful aristocratic families attempting to further their interests and seize power. Additionally, a Spartan-backed oligarchical revolution began to consolidate power and concentrate it in the hands of the few. Cleisthenes, representing the interests of the broader citizenry, found himself in conflict with these dominant families and the oligarchic movement. He responded by reorganising the political structure of Athens, dividing the four traditional tribes into ten new ones based on geographical area rather than kinship ties. This mixed citizens from different groups and diluted the aristocrats’ influence in Athenian Politics. Cleisthenes also expanded Solon’s Council of 400 to the Council of 500, encompassing a random selection of 50 members from each new tribe. By making this council the final arbiter of public action and law-making, Cleisthenes distributed power amongst the citizenry and laid the basis for a direct democracy.

Cleisthenes’ reforms extended beyond Athens, influencing governance across the Mediterranean. The city-state became a centre for democracy where power was shared among the citizens rather than being concentrated in the hands of the elites. Some may read Cleisthenes’ reforms as an attempt to politically weaken his rivals, as no one unique idea could gain traction across new diverse regions. Despite this, the impact of empowering and including Athenian citizens within the democratic process cannot be understated. This system inspired debates in other Greek citystates and spread the Athenian democratic model across Attica.

In response to the ever-persistent threat of a Persian attack from the east, Themistocles recognised the defensive and social benefits of developing a strong maritime presence in the Aegean Sea. His push for the construction of new warships directly facilitated greater involvement of the lower classes in Athenian democracy. During this period, military service was intrinsically linked with the idea of civic responsibility, wherein service was seen as a vital element of citizenship. The sense of pride this fostered motivated citizen-soldiers (hoplites) to take active roles in the political processes of the city-state.

Themistocles’ expansion of the navy increased the demand for sailors, providing new opportunities for lower-class citizens to join the land-based Hoplite army. Naval service required much less personal equipment since the triremes, the main vessels used in the Athenian navy, were manned by a large crew of rowers, meaning that participation did not necessitate the same financial investment. Naval service provided poorer citizens with a plat-

form to participate in civic life and the decision-making process. Victories at key naval battles such as Salamis (480 BCE) and Mycale (479 BCE) enhanced the feeling of civic pride, reinforcing their connection to the democratic state. This had the effect of increasing the participation of the lower classes in the political process, thus diluting the influence of the wealthy.

Pericles’ reforms in the latter half of the 5th century BCE sought to broaden citizen participation within the political process. In response to continued conflict and rivalry within the Mediterranean, Pericles realised the importance of creating a democracy that represented the citizenry of Athens. He introduced remuneration for public officials, which allowed even poorer citizens to participate in governance without financial hardship. He also reinforced the role of the Ekklesia (citizens’ assembly) and expanded the powers of the Heliaia (people’s court). This caused competition between elite performers before non-elite audiences, thus resulting in the formation of a pro-war culture. This culture encouraged Athenians to join military service and be active in the defence of the city-state. All of this was counterbalanced by rigorous debates on the topic of war that reduced the risk of cultural militarism. Additionally, the process of increasing citizen participation and fostering a culture of war ensured that reforms to the military were managed efficiently and enacted to the benefit of the people, not just personal gain.

Additionally,

There seems to be a strong case, therefore, that war’s creative and innovative function played an essential role in determining and shaping Athenian democracy in the 6th and 5th centuries BCE. The competitive pressures faced by Athens fostered a range of political reforms that prioritised civil participation, accountability and public discourse. These innovations laid the framework for democratic principles that resonated across the Mediterranean. The formation of the Delian League in 478 BCE, which was subsequently reworked into the Athenian Empire, allowed Athens to extend its influence across the Peloponnese. Through such an empire, the Athenians were able to disseminate their democratic model, creating various new democratic city-states.

By examining how conflict served as a catalyst for democratic reform, modern democracies can draw parallels to contemporary challenges such as political polarisation, global crises, and authoritarian threats. The adaptability of Athenian governance highlights the importance of flexibility in political systems, while their emphasis on citizen involvement offers a model for deepening public engagement today. Understanding these dynamics may allow us to develop a deeper understanding of modern-day pressures and their effect on established and rising democracies.

AROUND THE WORLD AND BACK

AROUND THE WORLD AND BACK: THE PORCELAIN OF JINGDEZHEN

The Porcelain of Jingdezhen Benjamin Wofford

Jingdezhen, a city located in southern China, is often synonymous with Chinese porcelain production. Marco Polo wrote that “they make it nowhere but in that city, and thence it is exported all over the world.” In fact, many other places in China produced porcelain, but none have had as strong a cultural and global impact.

city’s workshops into official Imperial kilns that produced pieces specially commissioned for the Imperial Court. These works can be distinguished by their imperial reign marks. Export ware was also produced in the city at this time and can be distinguished by their style and lack of production marks, which would have been unintelligible to foreigners.

workshops into official Imperial kilns that produced pieces specially commissioned for the Imperial Court. These works can be distinguished by their imperial reign marks. Export ware was also produced in the city at this time and can be distinguished by their style and lack of production marks, which would have been unintelligible to foreigners.

The city first gained significant attention during the Song dynasty (960–1279), when its potters perfected the greenish white Qingbai ware. This ware was one colour yet could be made into beautifully complex physical designs. However, the Mongol Yuan dynasty (1271–1368) opened the door to new artistic innovation. Its rulers were lax on potters and allowed them to experiment more with foreign influences that were less accepted under dynasties with ethnic Han rulers.

Mongol networks, spanning across Eurasia, also provided potters in Jingdezhen with access to highquality cobalt from Persia, allowing them to achieve a beautiful blue glaze which was difficult to recreate with other materials. It was previously believed that the famous blue-against-white style of porcelain China is mostly known for originated during the successive Ming dynasty (1368 to 1644), but it is now known that though the style did grow popular then, it first developed under the Mongols. Renewed maritime trade networks gave potters access to cobalt once more, and some Middle Eastern influence in designs can be found as well. European traders arrived at this time and the demand for porcelain skyrocketed, turning Jingdezhen into a booming hub. The emperors meanwhile turned some of the

Ironically, some of the most humiliating periods in Chinese history—those of foreign rule—were also critical for porcelain innovation. Non-Han rulers were naturally more open to allowing foreigners to join their court. Further technical innovation during the Manchu-ruled Qing (1644 to 1911) was aided by the Jesuits, and production reached new heights of volume and beauty. Potters working on export ware could also toy with European art concepts, leading to unique pieces which can be found in museums and private collections around the world.

Jingdezhen’s porcelain became a global product, but nowadays many pieces have returned to their local origins. The creation of an upper-class following China’s rapid economic development has given rise to many interested antique collectors who are keen to bring their cultural heritage home. Now many great works of art can again be appreciated by the descendants of their creators.

Ironically, some of the most humiliating periods in Chinese history—those of foreign rule—were also critical for porcelain innovation. Non-Han rulers were naturally more open to allowing foreigners to join their court. Further technical innovation during the Manchu-ruled Qing (1644 to 1911) was aided by the Jesuits, and production reached new heights of volume and beauty. Potters working on export ware could also toy with European art concepts, leading to unique pieces which can be found in museums and private collections around the world.

Jingdezhen’s porcelain became a global product, but nowadays many pieces have returned to their local origins. The creation of an upperclass following China’s rapid economic development has given rise to many interested antique collectors who are keen to bring their cultural heritage home. Now many great works of art can again be appreciated by the descendants of their creators.

Benjamin Wofford

THE GOLDEN AGE OF LA SERENISSIMA

Christopher Turner

The year 452 AD was devastating for northern Italy; Attila the Hun, the Scourge of God, razed the city of Aquileia to the ground. What was one of the foremost cities of the Roman Empire now lay as a pile of debris and ashes. Its former inhabitants fled to the safety of the lagoon nearby to seek refuge from the barbarian hordes ravaging their homeland. Having left the fertile plains of Lombardy, it was there in that flat, desolate lagoon, at the furthest northern extremity of the Adriatic Sea, that Venice was founded - a merchant republic that would come to dominate Mediterranean trade and act as a vector for global economic exchange in a time that is widely known as the Dark Ages. Locked away in their isolated corner of the Adriatic, the Venetians were able to insulate themselves from the tumultuous collapse of the Western Roman Empire in 476 AD and the subsequent establishment of barbarian kingdoms in Italy. They were able to forge a new life for themselves on the waves by trading their abundant stocks of fish and salt with nearby settlements. This newfound livelihood would, in later centuries, become the lifeblood of their mercantile empire. In fact, descriptions of Venice’s trading activities have been found as early as the 6th century, detailing their involvement in trade between Istria and the Ostrogothic capital of Ravenna.

Venice’s first major involvement in broader Mediterranean conflicts came with the Byzantine Empire’s reconquest of Italy in the mid-6th century, with Venetian vessels being used to garrison ports and transport Greek troops. Their aid to the Byzantines was crucial in the development of Venice’s proclivity for trade and maritime prowess, as Venice agreed to be placed under the suzerainty of Constantinople in exchange for military protection and trading privileges throughout the Empire, encompassing Greece, Anatolia, the Levant and Egypt at this time.

As the Emperor’s influence in northern Italy waned, Venice began asserting its independence before eventually declaring itself a republic at the turn of the 8th century, headed by a Doge. Under their new leadership, the Venetians worked to clear the Adriatic Sea of Slavic pirates in the 9th century, who threatened the prospects of Venetian trade. This coincided with the maritime republic’s increasing economic dominance of Istria and Dalmatia. The Venetians’ economic dominance of the Adriatic would be crucial in the expansion of their trade into the eastern Mediterranean. The year 1104 was key in the expansion of Venice’s trade power, as it saw the opening of the Arsenal in Rialto. Its inauguration was momentous; so long as the Arsenal remained functioning, the Venetians would have a constant supply of new vessels that could explore new avenues of trade and galleys that could protect its interests. The ability to mass-produce ships was on a

scale that no other polity could match until the advent of British and Dutch sea power in the early modern period. At the peak of its efficiency, the Venetians employed 16,000 people who could pump out a ship every day to service their mercantile empire. The huge volume of ships produced in the Arsenal would soon be put to great use, as the ratcheting up of Crusading fever from 1095 onwards would be capitalised on by the Venetians to propel their maritime republic to greater heights yet. The establishment of Outremer in the Levant provided Venice with the opportunity to expand its influence in the region through its transportation of men and resources, as well as access to trading privileges, in the Kingdom of Jerusalem. This era also witnessed the foundation of Venice’s overseas empire after it redirected a Crusading army headed to Egypt to the heart of its former overlord - Constantinople. In the aftermath of the city’s sack, the Byzantine Empire was dismembered; the Venetians were able to accrue valuable trading posts and islands in the east, including Crete and Corfu. With its new territories, Venice’s monopoly of the eastern Mediterranean trade and its prosperity was secure.

With the rise of the Venetian thalassocracy, Venice became the primary middleman between Europe, Africa, and Asia. In the pursuit of plying their mercantile trade, Venice’s role was integral in enhancing the process of globalisation in the old world and in facilitating cross-cultural interaction. Venice itself was an entrepot where goods and materials transported from the east would filter across Europe. Venetian merchants formed a Muda, where entire convoys would depart from the lagoon in spring and return with their goods in the autumn. Such goods ranged from spices cultivated in the Middle East, silks sourced from the imperial factories in Constantinople, and even precious Chinese porcelain. All were highly coveted across western and central Europe.

Perhaps La Serenissima’s most famous son was Marco Polo, famed for his travels to the Far East and presence at Kublai Khan’s court. True to his roots, Marco Polo embarked on his legendary travels at the age of seventeen in search of new commercial opportunities along the Silk Road and for new sources of spices and silks. After twenty-four years in service of the Khan as a diplomat, Polo returned to Venice and wrote his famous work The Travels of Marco Polo, one of the first comprehensive European descriptions of Asia’s riches. Naturally, this inspired a new generation of Venetian merchants to follow their instincts and seek to expand their trade networks further afield.

HOW DID BAGHDAD DEVELOP INTO A CENTRE OF GLOBAL KNOWLEDGE EXCHANGE?

Hamza Mahesar

‘Every war is declared against her her fame defies description, her goodness cannot be depicted praise cannot reach her heights.’

These were the words used by the medieval Palestinian traveler AlMaqdisi to describe Baghdad. These praises may not reverberate as much nowadays, but if we travel back in time to some twelve centuries ago, we would be standing at the gates of arguably the greatest city in the world. Baghdad was a towering force not just because of its supreme economic status and political reverence, but also because it was the cradle for some of the medieval world’s greatest minds, and because it was the cultural capital of the world.

Baghdad was founded in 762 by the Abbasids. It was chosen as their capital due to its convenient location, being situated by the Tigris where water was plentiful year-round. The city took just under four years to be fully constructed, and the military successes of the Abbasids served to foster Baghdad’s growth at an accelerated pace. At its height in the tenth century it was the largest city in the world with over one and a half million inhabitants. This relatively large population and ideal location resulted in Baghdad becoming a multicultural and multifaith city, comprising of Muslim, Christian, Jewish, and pagan populations amongst others. The various communities established their presence through their success in business and art, and this was partially facilitated by the rather lenient religious policies of inaugural Caliph Al-Mansur. The city’s prosperity naturally led to its inhabitants developing a rather hedonistic mentality, and the pursuit of pleasure, be it through leisure or academic achievement, became a major part of its identity. Baghdad’s crowning moment as the world’s leading metropolis came in the late 8th century, when it became the leading global center for studies of disciplines ranging from mathematics and geography to alchemy and philosophy.

and was called Hujjat-ul-Islam or the ‘authority of Islam,’ showcasing the extent of his knowledge on religious affairs. Al-Jahiz was a master of zoology, having some 200 works on fauna-based research to his name. Al-Khwarizmi, on the other hand, is known as the father of algebra for his groundbreaking discoveries such as the completing the square method, taught in schools even now. Knowledge was restricted not just to the top academics but also accessible to a wider audience through the large amount of copyists operating in the city. Hundreds of bookselling shops provided manuscripts to merchants and scholars alike.

Due to restrictions placed by society as well as the time period’s generally patriarchal nature, we do not have many extant records of female scholars from Baghdad’s glory days. However, women still contributed to the flourishing of its culture from behind the curtains. Wealthy women served as patrons for several of Baghdad’s most illustrious scholars, and financially contributed to the construction of mosques, madrasas (schools), and libraries throughout Baghdad. Literature from the time provides some evidence of female teachers being employed in these schools to impart religious knowledge to female students, and it is possible many of these women pursued learning on their own terms without leaving any records. In fact, one of the most venerated early Islamic poets was Rabia Basri, who was brought to Baghdad as a slave girl and whose early years there influenced some of her greater pieces on mysticism and God. Basri’s poetry enjoyed considerable attention in Baghdad, and scholars from the time recorded it for future generations to seek inspiration and wisdom from.

Scholars living in Baghdad continued building upon the knowledge accrued by ancient Greek academicians, with a defining characteristic of learning in the nascent Islamic world being the translation of ancient Greek and Aramaic texts. In Baghdad, translations expanded to include languages such as Sanskrit, Persian, and Chinese. Notable intellectuals who partook in this practice were Hunayn ibn Ishaq, Ibn Sina, Thabit ibn Qurra, and Ibn Musa al-Nawbakhti. These scholars also were the authorities in differing academic fields. Ibn Sina, for instance, specialized in medical knowledge and his works such as The Canon of Medicine remained in worldwide usage well into the 17th century. Al-Ghazali rose to prominence in the 11th century for his focus on theology and law,

Even as the centuries heaped their withered years, Baghdad held on to its place as the Islamic world’s nexus of awareness and culture. To prove a point, the largest library in Europe in the 1100s housed some 2,000 books, a mere fraction compared to over 10,000 books held in Baghdad’s libraries. Baghdad’s downfall was rather sudden, when in 1258 it was invaded by the Mongol conqueror Hulegu Khan. His army looted the city and spread mass destruction, killing over one million people. Scholars and artisans were not spared from the Mongols’ wrath, and the city’s largest libraries, including the famous Bayt-al-Hikmah, were razed to the ground. Cattle chewed on pages of the Qur’an, and books were used to make passages across the rivers; according to contemporary writers the waters of the Tigris turned dark, either from the ink spilled from the calligraphy or the blood of the scholars slaughtered en-masse. Baghdad was rent asunder from this catastrophe, and its position as the Islamic world’s capital was shifted to Cairo. Its name became lost to Europeans for centuries, and as the sun set on Baghdad, the Islamic golden age effectively came to an end.

HOW CAN THE EVERYDAY LIVES OF SLAVES ON PLANTATIONS INFORM THE STUDY OF THE GLOBAL SLAVE TRADE?

Kira Speakman

Emma Purvis

Harry was an enslaved African labourer who was taken to the British colony of Berbice on the Caribbean coast in the early 19th century. The conditions that he faced were so poor that by 1825 Harry was so unwell that his master Richard Bell had a coffin made for him, even though he was still alive. This complete disregard for human life, extending beyond the exploitation of slavery, came to light only through a complaint from Harry’s friend Billy to a militia officer, who was obligated to forward the case on to the Berbice authorities. Although Bell faced criticism from the authorities, Billy was the one punished for complaining without legal precedent.

This first-person testimony illuminates the daily struggles of enslaved individuals, revealing how they navigated their servitude and engaged with the colonial structures that stripped them of their freedom to serve a capitalistic agenda. These records allow us to deepen our understanding of the enslavement, placing the daily struggle for survival above resistance to the international networks of the slave trade. While Western historiography frequently highlights the struggle for emancipation, these testimonies bring the daily challenges of survival to the forefront of our understanding of enslavement.

In the face of this inherent violence, Billy’s complaint, like many other sources of enslaved people, reveal the significance of the relationships between the enslaved in overcoming the incessant threat of death to actually resist these vast imperialistic mechanisms. From these interactions, we can discern how enslaved people defined justice whilst still disenfranchised, and how they interacted with the colonial authorities to contest the injustices against them.

A drawback of slave narratives is their scarcity in comparison to the magnitude of the global slave trade. Low literacy rates, fear of punishment and censure from authorities who had legitimised the slave trade offer explanations for this. The few sources available do expose the nature of master-slave relationships. For example, the well-known narrative of Olaudah Equiano detailed that he considered himself a European, which was undoubtedly due to the influence of his owners. Indeed, the often-criticised, westernised nature of slave narratives reveals how masters denigrated the indigenous cultures of those who they enslaved to assert their perceived western superiority and force submission. In some cases, the westernisation of slave narratives indicates aspects of paternalism in master-slave relationships as some masters appeared to educate their slaves. Equally, the publication of slave narratives demonstrates the communal effort to educate themselves within slave communities as a measure towards liberation.

Equiano’s renowned account reveals the aspects of imperial cultures that enslavement forced African people to accept. For instance, Equiano references ‘more civilised people,’ affirming a subscription to notions of European superiority which were used to justify enslavement. Alternatively, Equiano’s reflections on indigenous religion exhibits scepticism about European imperialist notions of race, regarding it as an illogical social construct. From this insight into indigenous African cultural practices, we can discern the profound cultural transformation which occurred from transportation to plantations across the Atlantic. This is visible even down to the presence of female warriors fighting against the Europeans for their freedom. Therefore, the everyday experiences of enslaved people challenge the common perception that

those forced into enslavement passively accepted their situation and did not interrogate this process. This is evident even down to cultural differences between the experiences of African people before they were enslaved and the subjugating cultural practices of slave-trading agents.

On the other hand, Olaudah Equiano’s narrative of his experience of transatlantic slavery reinforces the difficulty of writing history from perspectives of the enslaved. Firstly, there are only five records of slave narratives from their individual perspectives. This means that most narratives risk inclusions that diverge from authentic experiences and may have been adapted to serve the specific agenda of the author, such as racial suppression. As aforementioned, the high illiteracy of the enslaved and linguistic barriers risks a loss of meaning in translation, indicating that many adaptations of these sources contain assumptions from the author about the experiences of the enslaved. Additionally, the atypicality of Equiano’s experience proves that we cannot homogenize the experiences of enslaved people to illustrate a history of the global slave trade. Equiano was welcomed into a British family who educated him; this was an uncommon experience which facilitated the publication of his slave narrative. This atypicality also explains the rarity of similar sources. Consequently, individual events in slave narratives cannot be solely used to illuminate the wider context of the slave trade. Ultimately, the everyday lives of slaves on plantations are valuable in the study of the global slave trade for a plethora of purposes. Fundamentally, they are the only insight into the personal experiences of life on a plantation, replacing the common historiographical focus of the fight for freedom with the daily struggle for survival. Furthermore, they illuminate imperial cultures through the lens of the enslaved and provide our only insight into the relationships between enslaved people and how they managed to serve their community whilst simultaneously facing exploitation themselves. Despite this, we must remember the importance of recognising the individuality of the few records that we do have, to fully comprehend the complexities of the global slave trade.

HOW DID THE PRINTING PRESS FACILITATE THE SPREAD OF IDEAS IN EUROPE, SUCH AS THE REFORMATION?

Hayley Cregor

The invention of the printing press by Johannes Gutenberg in the mid15th century marked a turning point in European history, altering the way ideas were disseminated. Prior to this innovation, the transmission of knowledge relied on labour-intensive methods, limiting both the availability of information and its audience. Gutenberg’s press revolutionised communication, enabling the rapid production and distribution of texts. This technological breakthrough played a critical role in various social, political, and religious movements, most notably the Protestant Reformation. The printing press facilitated the spread of new ideas, encouraged literacy, and contributed to broader cultural transformations that shaped the trajectory of European society.

The printing press is often hailed as one of the most significant innovations of the Renaissance. Before the advent of the press, books were laboriously copied by hand, typically by monks in monasteries. This method severely limited the number of books that could be produced and restricted access to knowledge to a small elite. The printing press allowed for the mass production of texts, dramatically increasing the speed at which books could be made. With this new technology, hundreds of copies of a book could be printed in a fraction of the time it previously took to create just one.

Prior to Gutenberg’s invention, books were often written in Latin, a language accessible only to the educated elite, primarily within the Church. The proliferation of books in vernacular languages, made possible by the press, allowed more people to engage with written materials. This democratisation of knowledge spurred an increase in literacy rates, particularly in urban centres, where the merchant class and professionals began to see education as a vital tool for advancement.

tracts, and translations of the Bible, spreading Protestant ideas far beyond their points of origin. More than 300,000 copies of Luther’s pamphlets were printed in the first few years of the Reformation, a scale of distribution that would have been impossible without the press. Luther’s ability to bypass the Church’s control of religious knowledge allowed for a more direct form of communication with the masses.

Religious debate flourished in the wake of the printing press, with Reformers and their opponents using the medium to engage in public discourse. What had once been confined to theological discussion among clerics now became a widespread public conversation, weakening the Catholic Church’s monopoly on religious interpretation. The press allowed for rapid responses to accusations and counter arguments, giving the Reformation a dynamic and participatory character. Recognising the power of the press, The Catholic Church began using it for the Counter-Reformation, producing works to defend its doctrine and attempt to control the narrative. However, the Church struggled to regain its former dominance.

As more books were printed in languages like German, English, and Italian, people gained access to ideas that were previously confined to academic or religious institutions. Martin Luther, the Reformation leader, was particularly instrumental in using the printing press to reach a broader audience by translating the Bible into German. By making religious texts available in the vernacular, Luther empowered ordinary people to engage with scripture directly, bypassing the need for clerical interpretation. The spread of printed works also helped standardise languages, as regional dialects were gradually subsumed into more widely accepted forms through the publication of standardised texts. Meaning, the printing press played a crucial role in creating a sense of community through the uniformity of language and ideas.

Perhaps the most significant example of the printing press facilitating the spread of ideas was its role in the Protestant Reformation. The Reformation began in 1517 when German monk Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of a church, challenging the Catholic Church’s practices, particularly the sale of indulgences. What could have been a local dispute rapidly became a Europewide movement, largely due to the printing press. Luther’s 95 Theses were quickly printed and distributed across the continent, allowing his ideas to reach a broad audience in a short amount of time.

The printing press enabled the mass production of pamphlets, religious

Beyond the Reformation, the printing press played a crucial role in the spread of scientific and philosophical ideas. During the Renaissance, humanist scholars embraced the new technology, publishing works that challenged established doctrines and promoted secular knowledge. Figures like Erasmus used the press to publish critical editions of ancient texts, while Copernicus and Galileo relied on it to distribute their revolutionary scientific findings. These publications helped foster an intellectual climate that questioned traditional authorities and laid the groundwork for the Enlightenment.

In the long term, the printing press enabled the development of a public sphere where ideas could be exchanged more freely. This created conditions for the rise of democratic ideas in Europe, as printed materials circulated notions of individual rights, representative government, and freedom of expression. The press played a central role in the emergence of the modern public sphere, where debate and discussion became the cornerstone of political life.

The printing press was a revolutionary invention that fundamentally altered the spread of ideas in Europe, with far-reaching effects on literacy, religion, science, and politics. By enabling the mass production and distribution of texts, the press facilitated the spread of the Reformation, challenged established authorities, and contributed to the broader cultural shifts of the Renaissance and Enlightenment. The press laid the foundation for the modern era, democratising knowledge and transforming European society in ways that continue to resonate today.

THREAD OF EMPIRE: A LEGACY OF TRADE, INDUSTRY, AND INEQUALITY

Tommy Ward

Manchester University’s very own Yangwen Zheng has argued in her book

The Social Life of Opium in China that the fates of China, India, and Britain were tied together by the creation of the triangular trade which helped to develop our globalised modern economy. Through the export of manufactured goods to India, Opium from India to China, and highdemand goods from China to Britain, the evolution of global commerce was in full motion. But how did Manchester fit into this global trade network?

Since its introduction into Britain’s culture (by party-king Charles II), tea has become a beloved national beverage. Its impressive popularity matched the growing market for Chinese porcelain and became the foundation of the triangular trade. However, the low demand for British goods in China drove merchants to trade the increasingly lucrative Indian opium. Despite the banning of this substance in China, imports of opium rocketed by a factor of 12 from 1795 to 1840, angering the Qing government. Tensions boiled over and the First (1839-42) and Second (1856-60) Opium Wars resulted in ‘a century of [Chinese] humiliation’ where opium was legalised therefore strengthening the triangular system. With its first mills opening as early as 1783 in Mayfield - now the site of Warehouse project - Manchester played a crucial role in leading Britain’s textile

industry. This success however contributed to the deindustrialisation of Indian weavers, forcing them to produce opium to meet the growing demand from China. Manchester’s industrial success therefore became deeply entwined with the global network. Gandhi’s visit at the request of struggling mills in Lancashire during his boycott of British goods in 1931 highlights the region’s long-lasting reliance on the international textile industry.

While Manchester thrived industrially, many of its residents did not. Inadequate housing matched with an explosion in urban population growth created what Frederick Engles called ‘the vilest and most dangerous slums’ in 1844. China’s widespread addiction (reportedly 40 million in 1849) and lack of economic control due to exploitative foreign treaties almost led to a social breakdown. Indian society underwent a similar collapse as over a million peasant families were forced to produce opium instead of muchneeded edible crops as the crisis of deindustrialisation continued to worsen.

As Manchester reconsiders its imperial legacy, its involvement is a poignant reminder of how industrial success was often built on exploitation and inequality. However, as the city evolves, the past sets a good example of what to avoid in our increasingly globalised and diverse world. Manchester has developed flourishing South Asian communities, and the University now attracts the largest Chinese student population in Europe, highlighting the city’s progress. The Manchester Museum’s Lee Kai Hung Chinese Culture and South Asian galleries are also a testament to the possibility of a brighter future.

The spread of infectious diseases played a crucial role in shaping the outcomes of colonial encounters throughout history. The concept of immunity, both as a biological resistance to pathogens and as a manifestation of superior medical care and technologies, was instrumental in facilitating European dominance over indigenous societies. Disease outbreaks in previously unexposed populations often resulted in catastrophic consequences for those affected - weakening societies and making them more susceptible to conquest. This article explores how immunity and the spread of diseases contributed to the destruction of certain societies and the advancements of European colonial interests.

The term ‘virgin soil epidemics’ refers to outbreaks of infectious diseases in populations with no prior exposure or immunity to certain pathogens. Such epidemics occurred across the Americas, Australia, and the Pacific Islands during European expansion, with devastating effects on indigenous societies. One of the most significant examples of a ‘virgin soil epidemic’ was the introduction of smallpox to the Americas. When the Spanish arrived in Tenochtitlan in 1520, smallpox spread rapidly across the Aztec Empire, killing 40% of the population. One of these deaths included the emperor, Cuitláhuac. The death of the emperor left the empire politically destabilised and weakened its defences against the Spanish, who took complete control by 1521. Without the impact of smallpox, the Spanish invasion might have faced much stronger resistance. The disease had not only decimated the population but also undermined the social and political structures that sustained the Aztec empire – factors which drew the Spanish there in the first place.

In Australia, the British brought smallpox, tuberculosis, and influenza with them when they colonised the continent in 1788. The indigenous Aboriginal population had no prior exposure to these diseases, and some suggest that smallpox killed up to 50% of the Aboriginal people in the initial outbreak. This massive population decline significantly disrupted the social and cultural fabric of Aboriginal communities and facilitated European expansion across the continent.

IMMUNITY AND EMPIRE

The Role of Infectious Diseases in Shaping

Colonial Dominance

ALIS KELLY

ments to surveillance villages were labelled as methods of disease control - examples of Europeans exercising their power over colonised societies. In reality, Europeans had no biological superiority over the Africans; instead, their immunity was demonstrated through protection methods and advanced medical care. This included the avoidance of regions with high infestations of tsetse flies, such as farms and hunting areas, and instead remained within administrative or military roles. Methods of prevention were also highly developed in comparison to Africans’, such as insect repellents and protective clothing. The disease became associated with African people and was used to weaken societies so that the perceived power of Europeans would be enhanced.

Events in British India provide additional examples of the threat of disease being used to justify intervention and control. Whilst cholera did exist in India prior to European colonisation, British intervention majorly contributed to its spread across the globe. The colonial government used methods of “disease control”, consisting of reorganisation, to better suit colonial economic interests. Colonial trade networks were implemented at the expense of the spread of disease. Between 1817 and 1923 there were six major cholera pandemics that originated in India and spread across the world – a large consequence of the European desire for trade networks and superiority over colonial territories. The concept of ‘immunity’ was used as an excuse for European intervention, later resulting in their dominance.

Weaponised immunity does not always have to be displayed in the form of biological advantages. The spread of African trypanosomiasis, also known as ‘sleeping sickness’, displays how Europeans used their portrayed immunity to interfere with African villages and depict themselves as “saviours”. Colonial projects in the late 19 th and early 20 th century facilitated the spread of the tsetse fly, the vector of the disease, through the movement of people and livestock. The loss of African population made them more vulnerable to European dominance, ruining order and limiting the ability to organise resistance against colonial rule.

The Europeans used sleeping sickness to justify their colonial mission, with the guise of “saving” the African people. The establishment of quarantines and mass population move-

In colonial encounters, immunity was a critical factor that influenced the outcomes of interactions between Europeans and indigenous societies. The lack of immunity among indigenous populations led to devastating mortality rates that weakened social structures and made societies more vulnerable to conquest. At the same time, Europeans leveraged their relative immunity, superior medical knowledge, and public health practicesto reinforce their dominance. The spread of infectious diseases, facilitated by trade networks and colonial expansion, reshaped the demographic and political landscape of the colonised world.

In these encounters, immunity was not just a matter of biological resistance; it was a tool of colonial power used to justify intervention, control, and the subjugation of entire populations.

On 10 December 1898, the Treaty of Paris was signed between the United States of America and Spain. This ended the Spanish-American War that started on 21 April that year and, as per the terms of the treaty, Spain was forced to relinquish its sovereignty over its territories in the West Indies, Guam, and the subject of this article – the Philippines. Although roughly over 12,000km away, the Philippines was considered to be a newfound token of legitimacy for America in taking its place as an accepted world power as it provided a voice in the determination of the policies of the Far East.

The United States had initially been interested in extending their influence into the Pacific due to rising fears of Japanese attack. In 1896, Emilio Aguinaldo - who would go on to be the youngest president of the Philippines - had mounted a rebellion against the Spanish, which from the perspective of American policymakers was believed to have been masterminded by Japan. As such, if a purely-Philippine rebellion were to have been successful, US officials, including Admiral George Dewey, believed that the newly- independent Philippines would quickly fall back into colonial hands – this time under Japan; or Germany, which seemed to have also been interested in spreading their influence into the Pacific, just as the British acquired Hong Kong for their Empire.

The recolonisation of the Philippines by the United States resulted in immediate hostilities from the Filipino rebels still under Aguinaldo. However, following the initial peak of conflict, attitudes towards American authorities gradually swayed towards ambivalence as Filipinos came to value contributions Americans made to underdeveloped sectors, including health, rural development, and education. Of course, American governance over the Philippines was not entirely for humanitarian reasons. US President William McKinley saw domination over Manila Bay as “a way station for America to the Orient” – an economic foothold into Chinese and Pacific markets. American markets controlled and regulated the trade of Philippine exports such as sugar and coconut oil, as well as expanding their military presence against perceived threats.

Washington policymakers justified their governance over the Philippines as a temporary measure through the 1916 Jones Act, formally known as the 1916 Philippine Autonomy Act: stipulating that America would withdraw their sovereignty over the Philippine Islands as soon as a stable government was established. The Philippines would become independent when America thought it was ready to be independent. The Jones Act would later be replaced with the 1934 Tydings-McDuffie Act that promised Philippine independence by 4 July 1946. The Act provided U.S. policymakers with an additional decade to mould the Philippines in alignment with American interests, furthering the process of Americanization. By the time the Philippines achieved independence on 4 July 1946 under the Treaty of Manila, its infrastructure had been completely transformed in alignment with American standards. Moreover, during WWII, the Philippines endured colonial rule under Imperial Japan. Liberation by American forces fostered a sense of gratitude towards its former colonisers. Even after the Philippines achieved independence, remnants of American occupation remained visible through major military bases and in the legislature, such as the 1946 Bell Trade Act which stipulated that US civilians and corporations would share equal access with Filippino’s to the nation’s natural resources. Subsequent administrations would maintain close relations with the United States, and during a time when Third-World governments were becoming increasingly anti-west and aligned with the Soviet Union, the Philippines retained its value as a useful ally to Washington. Having been a founding member of the United Nations on

THE PHILIPPINES AND AMERICA(-NISATION) VIRGIL MEADEN

26 June 1945, the Philippines repeatedly backed the United States in international affairs, and some Philippine leaders, including 9 th President Diosdado Macapagal, were widely known for their anti-communist, pro-American stance.

Public opinion, however, gradually became more and more skewed against American interests for constantly meddling in Philippine affairs. The Philippine government was packed with fervently pro-American conservatives who opposed reforms that favoured Philippine social and economic growth, such as those attempted by 7 th President Ramon Magsaysay. Whilst independent, it did not seem as though the Philippines had control over its own policies. The Americanisation of Philippine politics and infrastructure locked the Philippines in a state where it was reliant on America for economic aid and international legitimacy.

In retrospect, many Filipinos today believe American interference “stole” the achievements of the Philippine Revolution and destroyed what was to be the first independent republic in the Southeast Asian region. By the time the Philippines could access global markets, the Americanisation of its political systems and infrastructure made it reliant on American markets and influences. Regardless of what might have been, the post-war era in the Philippines exemplifies the enduring legacy of colonial power dynamics and their impact on formerly colonised nations.

The Panama Canal was an undeniable achievement of American engineering when it was completed in 1914. This connection of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans saves significant time and money for transiting ships and plays a vital role in the global supply chain to this day. The United States reaps the most economic benefits. In the 1970s, around 14,000 ships per year passed through, 60% of which were travelling to or from American ports. Despite being a success for global trade, the local impact of the Canal was overwhelmingly negative throughout the 20 th Century.

The key impacts of the construction and operation of the Canal on local Panamanians can be divided into three categories: population displacement; discriminatory and colonialist policies; and environmental destruction.

The American government sought to portray an image of the canal zone as jungle territory with scattered primitive settlements; however, this was far from the reality. Before the Canal, the area was densely populated, home to 14% of the country’s population. There were numerous busy urban areas, in addition to thriving agricultural land. Under order of the US President Taft in 1912, approximately 40,000 people were displaced from the ten-mile-wide Canal Zone. American authorities in the zone imposed what was essentially a colonialist regime on Panama. Indigenous Panamanians faced racist hiring practices, a discriminatory justice system, and segregationist policies. Housing, schools, and even drinking water facilities were segregated. Non-white workers were given the most dangerous tasks during the construction of the Canal. In addition to the 5,609 workers who died, the construction

DIGGING THE PANAMA CANAL

The Deadly Legacy of Global Trade and its Local Impact

NANCY BARLAS

of the canal caused major damage to local ecosystems. Deforestation and the creation of the Gatun Lake resulted in a loss of biodiversity.

Archival evidence illustrates the high level of frustration Panamanians felt with the US handling of the Canal Zone. Panamanians resented being treated like colonial subjects and sought the right to share in the economic benefits of the infrastructure that had caused them so much hardship. Amid rising global decolonisation movements, shifts in American foreign policy, and widespread opposition within Panama, the Panama Canal twin treaties were signed in 1977. These gradually ended US control over the ten-mile-wide Canal Zone that they had controlled since 1903.

The Canal was officially transferred to the Panamanian administration in 1999. Since then, Panama’s economy has benefited, and actions have been taken to reduce the social and environmental impacts. However, this does not erase the deadly legacy of its time under American control. The Canal’s significance for global trade has meant that the damage that its construction and operation caused for local communities has too often been overlooked and underplayed.

In March of 1930, Mahatma Gandhi and a few dozen followers began a 240-mile march along the coast of Gujarat in nonviolent resistance against the British colonial regime. For over a century, British monopolization drained India of its wealth and pushed many Indians into poverty, offering minimal relief from famine and disease. To challenge this unjust system, protesters targeted the salt tax, which had become a powerful symbol of Britain’s extensive exploitation. The British Salt Act of 1882 prohibited Indians from producing or selling salt in their own country, forcing them to buy expensive salt from British manufacturers.

With each village Gandhi and his followers passed through, protesting this salt tax, hundreds more joined behind them. When Gandhi collected salt from the coastline, ‘producing’ salt and breaking British law, many Indians recognised how this act represented resistance to decades of oppression and their collective suffering under the British Raj. With this growing local support, nonviolent protest expanded into a mass movement, where over 60,000 people were arrested for their involvement.

When Gandhi, the key figurehead of the movement, was eventually detained before a march on the Dharasana salt works, local people continued the march of their own volition. Upon reaching Dharasana, the peaceful protesters were met with police violence. This episode was documented by American journalist Webb Miller, who stated that ‘not one of the marchers even raised an arm to fend off the blows’ as they were struck down ‘writhing

THE LEGACY OF THE SALT MARCH

HUNTER MIRPURI

in pain with fractured skulls or broken shoulders.’ Miller’s graphic account of the British response to peaceful protesters drew international attention, diminishing the authority of British rule and amplifying calls for Indian independence.

These events show the importance of journalists, like Miller, in ensuring social movements gain the attention needed to sustain them. Although this movement demonstrates the importance of Gandhi as an individual figure, Gandhi was not the first to resist the salt tax; protests had begun decades earlier among ordinary people. Without the collective resistance and courage of ordinary people in the face of repressive violence, the demands for freedom articulated during the Salt March may not have gained the international recognition they ultimately achieved. History textbooks exploring the legacy of peaceful protest in India must no longer overlook the contributions of local people in taking the case of independence to the world’s stage.

In 1926, the British royal family chose to celebrate Christmas with an unprecedented dish: the Empire Christmas Pudding, featuring ingredients sourced from across the colonies. This included Australian sultanas, Indian spice and Palestinian brandy. The recipe emphasised the economic enormity and unity of the Empire, illustrating the deep-rooted imperial presence in British society - from food to cultural influences.

Since its formation, the Empire has significantly shaped British society. Economically, the wealth generated from colonial resources was reinvested into Britain, substantially enhancing middle and upper-class lives. This minority experienced an imperial influence most strongly through the burgeoning of a consumer society. Luxury goods such as exotic spices, silks, and printed calicoes enchanted European consumers. As demand surged for luxury goods from the Empire’s vast network of resources, consumerism flourished as an enticing market for investors, rapidly amplifying the imperial presence within British society and allowing all levels of society to acquire new tastes.

For the working class, the import of cheap foreign foods allowed them access to the Empire’s sphere of influence. The 1846 repeal of the Corn Laws, which previously protected British workers from the threat of cheaper, foreign imports, enabled cheaper imports to infiltrate the market. This shift was crucial for the working classes, who had struggled with high bread prices. The repeal of the laws allowed foreign competition to revitalise the British market, enhancing access to staple products such as foods from colonies like Australia and New Zealand. The rising affordability and accessibility of meat allowed living standards and diets of the working class to improve vastly. Consequently, broadening their dietary options fostered greater interest in the Empire.

While consumerism subtly integrated imperial influence into everyday life, imperial propaganda wielded overt power, especially in the realm of entertainment. This allowed the Empire direct ac-

THE RECIPE FOR THE PERFECT CHRISTMAS PUDDING

The Infusion of an Imperial Presence in Everyday British Society

cess to the public as theatre often reflected imperial themes. Actress Frances Abbington exemplified this through her portrayal of ‘Roxalana’, a character from Bickerstaff’s The Sultan used to promote the idea that Eastern societies required from the British. This narrative served as a justification for imperialism, reinforcing the Empires perceived benevolence.

The 1926 Christmas Pudding serves as a poignant symbol of the long-standing imperial presence in British society. While some may argue that this influence was overlooked, it is evident that many chose to indulge in the pleasures associated with imperial goods. The impact of colonial products on British life during the 19th and 20th centuries cannot be dismissed. It is undeniable that the Empire profoundly transformed daily routines and societal norms. Ultimately, the celebration of the Empire through culinary delights demonstrates intricate connections between colonialism and the evolution of British identity.

PRIYA BAINS

The Irish language revival movement is deeply significant in shaping Irish cultural expression. Once the dominant language on the island, Gaeilge faced a sharp decline under British rule due to colonial policies that promoted English. Therefore, by the late nineteenth century, the language was nearing extinction. The revival movement that followed was not only about preserving the language but also about reclaiming Irish identity and culture. The movement gave new life to traditional practices, influencing areas as far-reaching as music, sports, and literature. Gaeilge remains central to Ireland and cultural expression today across the global Irish diaspora.

The decline of Gaeilge can be traced back to a series of colonial policies with the direct aim of suppressing it. Some of the earliest examples were The Statutes of Kilkenny, enacted in 1366, which restricted the use of Gaeilge in certain contexts. However, perhaps the more significant impact came from the Penal Laws of the 17 th and 18 th centuries. These laws sought to strengthen the dominance of the English, leading to the marginalisation of Irish speakers. This situation only got worse following An Gorta Mór in the mid-19th century. The widespread levels of starvation and death as a result forced millions to flee the country, many of whom were Gaeilge speakers. By the late 1800s, English had become the dominant language in Ireland, particularly in public settings.

The revival movement gained momentum in the late nineteenth century, spearheaded by organisations like the Gaelic League (Conradh na Gaeilge). Founded in 1893 by Eoin MacNeill, the League sought to re-establish Gaeilge as a living language through education and public engagement. The Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA) formed in 1884 also played a significant role in the revival, promoting traditional Irish sports like hurling and Gaelic football, which were deeply connected to Irish cultural life. Both organisations worked to protect and promote Irish heritage, linking them to a broader political movement for independence.

The 1920s marked a turning point for Gaeilge, with the establishment of the Irish Free State. The 1922 Constitution recognised Gaeilge as the national language, giving it a protected status within education and the government. In the years following independence, successive governments implemented policies aimed at restoring the language to prominence, requiring a level of proficiency in Irish for civil service positions, and making it a compulsory subject in schools. These efforts reflected a broader post-colonial desire to forge a distinct Irish identity that was separate from British influence, with the language seen as a key pillar of this identity.

As a symbol of national identity and resistance to British colonialism, the Irish language revival was closely intertwined with the broader political movement for Irish independence. The Gaelic League, for example, played a crucial role in both the language revival and the nationalist movement. For instance, the Leagues emphasis on Irish language and culture served as a rallying point for Irish nationalists, uniting them against British rule and promoting a sense of national identity.

The revival of Gaeilge is closely tied to broader aspects of Irish cultural expression, such as traditional music, dance and sport. Irish-language songs and performances, such as the sean-nós style of singing, have been vital in preserving the language’s oral traditions. The rise of Irish dance (both traditional and modern), along with sports promoted by the GAA, have become further expressions of this cultural resurgence.

THE IRISH LANGUAGE REVIVAL MOVEMENT

LUCY MORTELL

TG4, the Irish-language television channel established in 1996, has played an essential role in promoting media in Gaeilge. The channel broadcasts a wide range of programmes, from news to entertainment, providing a platform for the language in the digital age and ensuring its relevance to contemporary Irish culture.

The language revival is not limited to Ireland itself. Across the globe, Irish diaspora communities have played a key role in preserving and promoting Gaeilge. In cities such as Boston, New York, and Sydney, language classes, cultural festivals, and GAA clubs have provided a space for people with Irish ancestry to engage with their heritage. For example, the Oireachtas Festival, held annually in Ireland, has branches globally that celebrate Irish culture and language. These efforts show how Gaeilge continues to thrive far beyond the island, serving as a cultural touchpoint for millions of people with Irish roots.

In modern Ireland, the revival of Gaeilge is increasingly visible in everyday life. Bilingual road signs, Irish-language schools (Gaelschoileanna), and public services in the language are all markers of how the language has been integrated into the countrys infrastructure. These efforts have not only supported the languages survival but have also normalised its use in public spaces. More locally in Manchester, the Irish Cultural Heritage Centre provides a focal point for the local Irish community, offering language classes, Irish dancing workshops, and cultural events which celebrate Irish heritage. This connection between Ireland and its global diaspora illustrates the enduring impact of the language revival on public life both at home and abroad.

The revival of Gaeilge stands as a powerful reminder of how deeply intertwined language is with cultural identity. Despite the pressures of globalisation, the movement has proven that local traditions can not only survive but also flourish in a modern world. The language today is more than a historical relic—it is a living, evolving expression of Irish identity. As Ireland continues to engage internationally, its commitment to preserving its linguistic heritage reflects the enduring strength of people who value both their past and their future. The Irish language, once marginalised, now speaks with a renewed voice - both locally and globally.

SECOND-WAVE FEMINISM AND SUBURBIA: The Disillusion of the American Dream

Verity Highe

In the 1950s, the American economy soared, and unemployment fell in a new Decade of Prosperity. As the middle class rose in wealth, consumerism rocketed, with new machines and factories able to produce goods at a mass rate and availability. The most important sale of all was the new suburban homes that would make the American Dream an accessible reality for newly established middle-class families. Suburbia was being built at a rapid pace, separated from the overcrowded cities, featuring cookie-cutter neighbourhoods full of identical rows of homes and gardens. Not only were the houses identical, but the lifestyle that suburbia offered for each member of the family was pre-designed to fit ideas of an ideal American life.

Men had fulfilling lives of earning money, playing sports, and drinking with friends, while the women were expected to stay at home as housewives. Their role consisted of an endless cycle of cooking, cleaning, and caring for children with very little freedom or independence outside of these domestic chores. The “Stepford Wives” stereotype has become popular in the media to parody the servile, domestic housewife of this period – trapped in a hellish cycle of neverending monotony.

Many women came to feel disillusioned with the so-called “dream” lifestyle they had been sold, left with a lack of identity or fulfilment in their lives outside of being mothers and wives. While this feeling was undoubtedly common, it was an unspoken topic in society throughout

the 1950s and only came into popular discourse after the publication of Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique in 1963. The book was based on Freidan’s own experiences living in the suburbs as well as conversations she had with other women and was an immediate success, with many women for the first time finding a name for the way they had been feeling.

Freidan’s book is largely credited with triggering the eruption of second-wavefeminism, which focused on issues such as the wage gap and women’s education. Many of the issues it tackled directly intersected with the struggles of suburban housewives, such as their lack of independence or ability to enter the workplace and was addressed in legislation like the Equal Pay Act in 1963.

Second-wave feminism is often criticised for being too focused on the issues of white, middle-class women who were usually the women able to live in suburbia, as racial segregation laws made it a place out of reach for most black families.

Despite its lack of intersectionality, the steps that second-wave feminism made toward workplace equality and reproductive rights, inspired by the struggles of suburban housewives, paved the way for future feminist movements and rights for women.

In the 1980s, Birmingham was a city grappling with the complexities of race and immigration, and interracial couples found themselves at the heart of these evolving dynamics. The integration of Jamaican culture into British urban life manifested in broader society and within families, creating new forms of cultural identity and expression. With the largest Black Caribbean population in the UK, Birmingham has earned a reputation as one of the country’s first “super-diverse” cities, where ethnic minorities make up 50% of the population. Far from fading, Jamaican culture became deeply woven into the fabric of urban Birmingham.

This cultural integration can be traced back to the Windrush Generation, my grandfather’s generation, who arrived in Britain in the late 1940s and the 1950s. Drawn by promises of work and opportunity, instead, they were met with harsh realities. They had never seen snow, nor had they encountered the kind of overt racial hostility that would mark their early years in the UK. Despite the racism and exclusion they faced, they laid the groundwork for future generations. The first Jamaican immigrants brought their cultural traditions: food, music, and a deep sense of community, which would be passed down to their children and grandchildren.

By the 1980s, the British-born children of Jamaican immigrants were beginning to bridge the gap between their Caribbean roots and their British identity. For interracial couples, particularly those between White British women and Black Jamaican men, daily life was often marked by external pressures and racial tensions. The legacy of post-war immigration and the rise of far-right movements like the National Front loomed large. In some areas, the emblems and graffiti of the National Front were as common as public infrastructure.

Interracial couples faced intense scrutiny as their relationships challenged societal norms at a time when such unions were still far from accepted. My father recalls being spat at while walking with my mother - a stark reminder of the prejudice they faced. Yet, despite these challenges, many interracial couples became catalysts for change, slowly shifting attitudes around race.

The 1980s also marked a golden era for Jamaican music in Britain, which emerged as one of the most powerful symbols of cultural integration in Birmingham. Reggae and its sub-genres: dub, ska, dancehall, and the 2 Tone movement brought people together across racial lines. Originating in nearby Coventry, 2 Tone quickly took hold in Birmingham. The Beat produced politically charged tracks such as “Stand Down Margaret,” critiquing the social climate of the time. The chequerboard pattern used in the 2 Tone logo symbolised racial unity, underscoring music’s role as a unifying force.

CULTURAL RESILIENCE

Interracial Couples and Jamaican Heritage in 1980s Birmingham

Sienna Gardner

Birmingham’s thriving music scene, driven by local sound systems like the iconic “Jah Shaka,” spread the rhythms of Jamaican music far beyond the Caribbean community, resonating deeply with White working-class youth and fostering cultural exchange. The Jah Shaka sound system became legendary, named after its operator who infused his sets with Rastafarian principles of peace, love, and resistance against oppression. Shaka’s performances were more than just musical; they were spiritual journeys, where bass-heavy reggae and dub transcended mere entertainment, awakening a sense of consciousness. The towering stacks of speakers blasting rhythms through the streets created a powerful, shared experience that reached far beyond the Jamaican diaspora.

Among the most significant musical acts to emerge from Birmingham during this period was UB40, a band whose multiethnic lineup epitomised cultural fusion. Formed in 1978, UB40 included musicians of Jamaican, Irish, and English descent, a deliberate move to break down racial barriers through music. Their debut album, “Signing Off” addressed issues of poverty and social injustice, striking a chord with listeners from various backgrounds.

The Handsworth Carnival, first held in 1984, emerged as a vibrant celebration of Caribbean culture in Birmingham. Attracting thousands of attendees from diverse backgrounds, the event showcased how the Jamaican community not only preserved its cultural identity, but actively shared it with the wider city. Music was central to the carnival, with powerful sound systems, lively steel bands, and exhilarating reggae performances filling the streets, creating an infectious atmosphere of joy and unity. The carnival also highlighted how Jamaican culture was not only preserved but innovated upon, echoing a broader celebration of multiculturalism.

In 1985, my father, a Black British-born Jamaican, asked my mother, a White British woman, out while they were riding the 35 bus from Kings Heath to Birmingham city centre. At the time, their relationship was far from the norm, yet they embraced their love despite societal barriers. For many interracial couples like my parents, cultural integration wasn’t just a theoretical idea but a lived experience. Their home became a “third space,” where elements of Jamaican culture, such as reggae music, Sunday dinners featuring Caribbean dishes, and the use of patois, blended seamlessly with quintessentially British customs. This rich intercultural exchange contributed to a new, fluid understanding of Britishness, one that reflected the country’s post-imperial reality. Today, the legacy of those who navigated the challenges of race and culture in the 1980s resonates more than ever. Growing up in an interracial family has taught me to value our differences and to recognise the profound contributions of diverse communities to our shared history.

THE WAR GAME

How misinformation, paranoia, and technical fault heated up the Cold War.

Hanna Saunders

In October 1983, the US put all its military bases on high alert. A month later, Soviet onlookers spotted what appeared to be the removal of planes carrying warheads from NATO hangars. Soviet spy planes intercepted a flurry of communication between Britain and the US. Shortly after, the United States moved to DEFCON 1(the highest of the nuclear threat categories), surpassing the DEFCON 2 alert declared at the very height of the Cuban Missile Crisis. After two decades of fraught tension, near-misses, and detente, the writing appeared to be onthe wall. NATO was preparing to strike the USSR. The Soviets prepared their defences - deploying submarines under the arctic ice and stationing missiles in swamps and forests. The Soviet leader, Yuri Andropov, stayed up all night with the ‘cheget’ (a nuclear briefcase), waiting to enter the nuclear codes. The time was now.

Although, it wasn’t. This NATO escalation was real. Rather, it was a part of the ‘Able Archer 83’ war game program. The believability of the program is ironic; a ‘war game’ designed to effectively simulate the start of a nuclear war very nearly did. On closer inspection, there are credible and less malevolent motives behind NATO’s perceived preparations for war. American air bases on high alert a wholemonth before the commencement of Able Archer? A reaction to Hezbollah’s (aLebanese political organisation) bombing of an American military base in Beirut. And the sudden increase in communication between London and Washington? Arguments between Thatcher and Reagan over the US’ invasion of Granada (a commonwealth territory). Both incidents had nothing to do with the cold war, yet due to the paranoid fear haunting Moscow, were nearly used as evidence to launch their arsenal. As deputy director of the CIA Robert Gates later said, ‘we were onthe brink of nuclear war, and we didn’t even know it.’

The USSR believed that the USA planned to strike first despite NATO simulations all imitating NATO countries reacting to a soviet strike, not provoking one. Soviet‘evidence’ that NATO was preparing to

strike first was largely nonsensical. The number of lights on at night in the Pentagon or the Ministry of Defence were cited as evidence of intent to launch an assault. Although the ‘Able Archer’ programs lead with the phrase ‘exercise, exercise, exercise,’ the USSR seemed unable to shake its belief in Maskirovka, the doctrinal use of military deception. Misinterpretation seems forgivable given the backdrop of fear and distrust which undermined rational thinking of governments and their peoples. The 1980s marked a departure from the cooly diplomatic period of detente forged by Nixon and Ford, with Reagan bringing his dramatic, Hollywood flair to Washington. Branding the USSR as an ‘evil empire’ and introducing the ‘StarWars’ initiative, this destroyed the concept of Mutually Assured Destruction, andthe nuclear balance of power became a balance of terror. However, it seems ironic that what nearly brought about Armageddon wasn’t a highly public standoff between Andropov and Regan, like the one seen in 1962 between Khrushchev and Kennedy, but rather due to a series of misunderstandings and misinterpretations spurred by fraught paranoia.

Similarly, if nuclear war was nearly brought on by human error, it was also narrowly avoided due to technical failures. In January 1961, an American B51 bomber split apart over North Carolina, causing two 24 megaton nuclear bombs to fall to earth. Only one of the bombs was recovered, the other landing in a swamp where it remains. On the recovered nuke, five of the six security features had failed. In 1966 two nuke-carrying planes were heading back to the states on are fuelling operation after circling over the Soviet Union. One of the aircrafts collided with the fuel tanker, forming a fireball in the sky. As a result, four nuclear bombs fell to the ground. Three landed on beaches in Spain, leaking nuclear waste.The fourth landed in a sea canyon in the mediterranean. These are just a few of the many examples of the world being brought frighteningly close to the nuclear abyss due to technical faults and dragged back by sheer luck. Given what is known about the impulsive and paranoid nature of Washington and Moscow, it is entirely credible to imagine that if the sixth safety switch failed or any one of those four bombs detonated in the fireball, the reaction would have been swift and the consequences unthinkable.

What does this mean for our understanding of the Cold War, and wars in general? This evidence suggests that war is not an exact science. Nuclear war could have been both avoided and similarly sparked due to misunderstandings, technical ineptitude, human error, or just luck. Through studying these cases, it may be more accurate to think of nuclear war as the Russian roulette (excuse the pun) of man’s fallibility and idiocy, rather than a thoroughly strategised operation with clear objectives. These examples speak to the mercurial and dangerous nature of nuclear warfare, and how a ‘cold war’ - a conflict which does not rely on mechanised warfare - can easily tip into a self-fulfilling prophecy of paranoia and fear which feeds itself until one small misunderstanding or failure results in Armageddon.

DOES THE INTENDED AUDIENCE OF A FILM OFTEN IMPACT ITS CONTENT?

Harry Hudson

Whether the intended audience of a film often impacts its content seems like a relatively simple question to answer; yes. However, the type of audience the film aims to target can impact its content negatively or positively, depending on which studio produces the film, and whether the director can instil their creative vision without hindrance. If the studio making the film prioritises commercial success and profit, then the content of the film will usually be recycled and safe - with little risk taken or creative filmmaking techniques explored. Unfortunately, the profit-driven studios have dominated the last two decades of production, with films being released by them that resemble those churned out in the Classical Hollywood system of assembly-line produced films.

During the Classical Hollywood era (1910s - 1960s) assembly line production allowed studios to produce films faster than ever before, which significantly increased the output of films during this period. These films were prosaic, relying on tried-and-true formulas with predictable plots and recycled themes, while focusing on established genres which became quickly oversaturated as more studios adopted this production style. Furthermore, selling films as a package to cinemas in a ‘block-booking’ system was the prevailing custom for studios of this era (until 1948). This system proliferated the creation of low-quality films, as studios could bundle these films with more desirable ones and they would still be screened as part of a block. Audiences would be forced to watch films they may not particularly have wanted to watch. These economical filmmaking practices may seem familiar to modern audiences, which raises concerns about the regression of the film industry.

However, this makes each film in the MCU feel lifeless. The first viewing may be enjoyable, but any repeated viewing reveals that the film has no real soul, no meaningful characters or character development. Martin Scorsese was right to compare the MCU films to theme parks, because riding the same rollercoaster again and again is fun the first few times, but by the 34th ride, you will have grown fatigued of the predictability and want something different to restore the thrill. The MCU films resemble the ‘block-booking’ system used in Classical Hollywood as, in order to watch the latest MCU film, audiences will likely have to watch previous entries into the franchise. They may not particularly want to watch them, but are forced to in order to understand the new entry. This style of filmmaking unfortunately extends to other films under the Disney conglomerate, resulting in endless sequels or reboots such as the widely disliked Star Wars sequels, and the new Indiana Jones film that bombed at the box office. Clearly, audiences are becoming fatigued with unoriginality.

These previous films are examples of how the content of a movie can be negatively affected by the intended audience if the studio prioritises reaching as many people as possible, and takes no creative risks as a consequence. However, there are examples of modern films that display characteristics of creative filmmaking. Christopher Nolan and Denis Villeneuve are two directors with a lot of power in this industry, and truly fit the definition of ‘auteur’ (a director whose filmmaking control is so unrestricted by the studios involved that they can almost be called the ‘author’ of the film).

Nolan and Villeneuve respect their audience’s intelligence, unlike MCU films, and do not have to rely on predictable character archetypes or fan service in an attempt to keep them engaged. They do not attempt to appeal to as many audiences as possible, so can explore more complicated themes and plotlines, whilst experimenting with their filmmaking. They can have longer films, such as Nolan’s Oppenheimer (2023), which allows more time for character development.

There are many examples of modern films that seem to follow similar practices to the Classical Hollywood way of filmmaking. The most notable studio guilty of this is Disney. The Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), owned by Disney, contains 34 films released in the space of just 17 years. The evidence of economical filmmaking practices is in abundance to appeal to their target audience - which is as many people as possible. This means that any artistic creativity across the films has been stifled and replaced with safe, repetitive plots, predictable character archetypes, standard genre conventions, fan service, crossovers, and cheap nostalgic callbacks. This is done to try and maximise audience satisfaction and profit from the film by reducing risk as much as possible.

Even when these directors choose to make sequels, such as Villeneuve’s Dune: Part Two (2024) or Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy, each film is distinct and explores something different to its predecessor. In contrast to the MCU, repeated watches of these directors’ films can enrich them, whether this be due to the unique cinematography, practical stunts or hidden foreshadowing that only rewatches can reward you. The films of Nolan and Villeneuve have succeeded at the box office, and the fruits of their most recent productions (Nolan’s Oppenheimer and Villeneuve’s Dune: Part Two) are promising, as it indicates that audiences are growing tired of hollow films and yearn for films that push the boundaries of filmmaking.

If filmgoers continue to support creative movies and reject those that feel “assembly-line produced”, then the studios creating these empty films will be forced to adapt and tailor to the new type of audience- an audience that will not accept lacklustre filmmaking or the prioritisation of profit over the substance of the film.

DOING THINGS OUR OWN WAY

How punks responded to Margaret Thatcher’s prime ministership

Teddy Bellamy

The Dead Kennedys’ aggressive and absurd punk track ‘Kinky Sex Makes the World Go ‘Round,’ The Specials’ two-tone and bouncy track ‘Ghost Town,’ and Morrissey’s sombre new wave deep cut ‘Margaret on the Guillotine’ are a trinity of songs which sonically bare little to no resemblance. Yet, despite these tracks belonging to vastly different genres, all three tracks share the same striking theme: a bitter disdain towards former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.

Why is this? Fervent criticism or downright hatred being hurled towards the ‘Iron Lady’ were not new occurrences at the time of each song’s respective release. Thatcher’s policies, both foreign and domestic, adversely impacted people across the globe. The question of why her prime ministership, in particular, became the musings of so many musical artists during the late 1970s and early 1980s is worth unpacking.

Ultimately, political musings around Thatcher’s premiership all began with the punk movement. Similar to other countercultural movements that strive to dismantle, break free from, or transform dominant ideologies, punks aimed to do the same. Even though the movement itself had begun a decade before Thatcher’s election in 1979 (depending on your definition of the beginning of punk), it was her prime ministership that elevated the punk movement into the gigantic symbol of anti-establishment it became so infamous for.

The explosion of the Sex Pistols between their formation in 1975 and the release of their debut album in 1977 marked what many would perceive as the revolutionisation of punk and the catapult which flung the imagery and messages so synonymous with the movement into the public’s eye. The group’s infamous single, “God Save the Queen,” both established a foundation for punk culture and underscored a central theme that passionately defined the movement at the time: class. While the song is an outward assault on the monarchy, it draws attention to the issues of class division and the marginalisation of the working class. The importance of class pervades the punk movement. Those who felt downtrodden and disillusioned with the middle and upper classes and the government now had an artistic outlet. As the western world moved towards socially and economically conservative societies, the disenfranchised not only felt able to rebel (inspired by the Pistols and bands of a similar nature), but also felt the need to rebel. Angry about the economic treatment of you and your peers? Perfect. Now there was a youth-led movement which allowed you to express your anger in your own manner through music, art, or even your clothing and hair.

So how did Thatcher come into all of this? It all boils down to the aforementioned importance of the social and economic divisions so present within the UK at the time. Thatcher’s domestic policies throughout the 1980s were antagonistic of the working class; with her insistence on the need for privatised housing, a deregulated financial market, and arguably most significantly the weakening of trade unions (by limiting the right to strike) and the closure of coal mines displaying this. Whole towns and communities found themselves hollowed out with intense issues regarding unemployment

and social deprivation now running rampant throughout the country.

On top of all this, Thatcher’s strong allegiance to Ronald Reagan and his government’s aggressive stance towards the Soviet Union during the Cold War and their shared beliefs on neoliberalism influenced many US punk bands to also take a stance on right- wing conservatism. In turn, bands such as the aforementioned Dead Kennedys and NOFX felt the need to display their rage from across the pond. Thatcher and Reagan had pivoted the western hemisphere towards a harsh climate - intervening in geopolitical matters many argued they had no right to and creating a stark divide between both age and class groups, who now felt a need to pivot strongly in one direction of the political spectrum or the other.

As the loud crashing drums and the vibrant, wild hairstyles of the punk movement died down and were replaced by the soft reggae beats of the ska movement or the industrial ‘jangly’ sounds of the new wave and postpunk movements, the same themes prevailed.No better can this be seen than by looking at the music scene that blossomed right here in Manchester. Whether it’s the factory-like sounds of Joy Division or the melancholic lyrics portraying working class teenagers disillusioned with their old-fashioned elders present in songs by The Smiths, it’s abundantly clear that the punk movement’s criticisms of the ‘Iron lady’ persisted long after its demise. Thatcher enlarged a rift at a time which was incredibly volatile and dividing the country. In turn, angry youths took to the streets, music, and art in general in retaliation. It should come as no surprise then that punk culture has had somewhat of a renaissance in the last decade.

Through movements such as jazz, blues, and hip-hop, Black musicality within the last century has made significant contributions to America’s musical landscape. Just as important as the contemporary genres, however, is the history that has granted Black musical talent the global recognition it holds today. From plantation songs to Motown, how has such a historically persecuted minority gained such prevalence in American music? African American music originates from plantation songs, sung by slaves and passed down through generations. These songs were sung a cappella - often in call and response - with a clapping rhythm style, accompanied by incredible harmonies and layered voices. Whilst almost all audio records we have of these songs are mid-1900s revivals, repurposed as gospel or Civil Rights songs, their original sentiments have been preserved perfectly over the years. ‘Old Ship of Zion’, ‘Roll, Jordan, Roll’, and ‘My Father, How Long?’, for example, are deep and heavy, the weight of which inspires potent imagery of the toil and repetition of life for enslaved African Americans. Despite this, they are remarkable through the unmistakable sound of hope and faith woven into the fabric of each song. It is easy to view these songs as anthems of misery, given their historical context, yet each one is alive with an immense sense of community and solidarity. They speak of family, misery, God, freedom and oppression; and it is these complex, contradicting ideas that made plantation songs so unique, and so beautiful.

However, when these incredible songs eventually gained traction, it was as a source for the most damaging racial stereotype to plague Black America. The songs were being taken and adulterated by Thomas Dartmouth Rice. Inspired by the life and passion of plantation songs, Rice created his infamous ‘Jim Crow’ character, singing songs in blackface, degraded with exaggerated AAVE - African-American Vernacular English - which exhausted the music’s integral community and faith values which defined plantation songs. This was the first major example of Black music being stolen, parodied and popularised under the name of a white man, and unfortunately not the last. From the whitewashing of the Southern country genre and barbershop quartets to Elvis Presley’s hit ‘Hound Dog’, Black music has continued to be stolen, and completely uncredited.

Despite Rice’s debasement of plantation songs, the black community’s strong sense of unity and style persevered, emerging with the 1920s rise of Black gospel and jazz. Firstly, the content and elements of gospel - clapping, call and response, and Christian messages - were identical to that of plantation songs, yet the sum of these produced a new style of music entirely. Gospel singers such as Mahalia Jackson took these same work songs, like ‘Roll Jordan Roll’, and injected them with new life and energy, inspiring joyful, proud worship within Black communities. Gospel also gained traction for its distinctive spontaneity, improvisation, and audience participation, diverging from the contemporary American music standards. In pieces, like Aretha Franklin’s ‘There Is A Fountain Filled With Blood’, we can hear the clapping and interjections from the audience, with Franklin herself alternating between sweet humming and screaming to convey her emotions. Despite this fresh sound for gospel music, it remained relatively contained within the Black community up until its departure from traditional church settings into studios, in the late 60s.

Jazz music couldn’t have been much different from gospel, given the fact that it was secular and instrumental music. However, it is undeniable from listening to the early work of Louis Armstrong, or John Coltrane’s ‘A Love Supreme’, that jazz had the same roots in work songs as gospel did. The

PLANTATIONS TO MOTOWN:

The development and recognition of Black American music until the 1960s. Maeve Naismith

community aspect of plantation songs shines through in jazz: through the experimentation and collaboration, and their on-stage interactions, respect and solidarity can be heard. Unlike the scored and practised music of the time, this music existed in the moment,unable to be reproduced as the mood and relationship between the musicians and audience was entirely unique in every performance. Although jazz shared these features with gospel, it is the fact it was secular, instrumental, and non-specific to Black Christian communities that gained it immense national and international traction. Motown burst onto the scene in the 1960s, finally marking the well-earned recognition of African American music. Designed to be short, catchy radio tunes, Motown had America in thrall with its life and energy, propelling groups such as The Temptations, The Jackson 5, and The Supremes into the music scene. Given how different this new up-tempo, dazzling sound was to the country and work songs of the past, it is remarkable that you can still clearly hear the roots of plantation songs flowing through the music, almost a century after the abolition of slavery. Every defining element - call and response, hand clapping and harmonies - can be heard in songs such as ‘Heatwave’ by Martha Reeves and the Vandellas, and The Supremes’ ‘Stop!

In The Name of Love’.

Whilst musical movements like jazz had come close, the popularity and international reverence of Motown soared, and was unprecedented for Black America. No longer was their music contained within slave communities, barbershops, or the four walls of a Black Church – finally Black musicality, culture, and joy, previously suppressed, overshadowed or hidden, was being amplified to the world. Motown’s blend of old and fresh sounds both represented the journey of Black music since 1619 - work songs, country, gospel and jazz - and provided glimpses into the bright future of African American music.

DON’T THROW ME AWAY, PASS ME ALONG.