Latest news with #historicalevent
The National
05-08-2025
- Politics
- The National
October 7, 2023 was not the beginning of the war in Gaza
Our understanding of an historical event's meaning is a function of two factors. The first is what we choose to identify as the starting point leading up to the event. The second is the lens through which we view it. This should be obvious, but unfortunately it is not, and the failure to acknowledge or understand it has consequences in everything from public policy to personal relationships. This truth can be ignored due to thoughtlessness, blindness to one's biases, or just plain ignorance. On some occasions there can be malign intent, including efforts to deliberately hide what one knows to be an event's antecedents for political or personal reasons. Before examining the issue that prompted this column, I want to share an example. The comedian Dick Gregory once noted that despite what Americans were taught in school, 'Christopher Columbus didn't discover America, because it wasn't lost'. His point seems simple enough, but upon closer examination it reveals deeper truths. 'Columbus discovered America' erases the history, civilisation and contributions of the indigenous groups who populated the lands that Europeans came to call the New World. Even the term 'New World' was a thinly veiled masking of their imperial self-understanding and intent. 'We discovered these lands, and they are ours to take, name, and exploit.' The American history we were taught was an extension of European history. It began with Columbus. Then moved to the Spanish, British and French colonialists, culminating in the Revolutionary War and the birth of the US. The native peoples were treated as bit players in the unfolding story – at times, a footnote, at others an inconvenient obstacle. This story of American history results from choosing Columbus as the starting point and using a lens so Euro-centric that it only sees the indigenous peoples who populated this land as less than human and therefore less deserving of defining their own history or even remaining on their land. They were removed and/or massacred, their humanity was ignored, and their treatment was justified because they were of less worth than the Europeans who displaced them. This reflection was prompted by the way Israel's war on Gaza continues to be reported in large sections of western media and discussed in western policy circles. US reporters appear to be required to include a line in their stories that reads: 'The hostilities began on October 7, 2023, when Hamas militants attacked Israel killing 1,200 and taking 250 hostages.' It isn't accidental that this line (or something very close to it) occurs in almost every US print story. We all must agree that what happened on October 7 was traumatic for Israelis and Jews around the world. It was a shock that their security was breached, and that some horrible and condemnable atrocities were committed by Hamas and others who joined in their attacks. But history didn't begin or end on October 7. Recall that just a few weeks before the Hamas-led attacks, then-US president Joe Biden's national security adviser, Jake Sullivan, noted that the Middle East was the calmest it had been in years. This statement gave short shrift to the Palestinian reality and made clear the biased lens through which he saw the region. He was ignoring Israel's continued economic strangulation of Gaza (which made Palestinians increasingly dependent on Israel or Hamas for their livelihood) and the growing threat of settler violence, settlement expansion and land confiscations in the West Bank and East Jerusalem. A few weeks after October 7, I met Mr Sullivan and listened to him describe the pain and fear of Israelis and how October 7 evoked the traumas of their history. I told him that I completely understood and agreed that Hamas stood rightly condemned for what they had done. I cautioned him, however, not to ignore the trauma of the Palestinians – their pain and fears – and their history of dispossession. He became angry and waved off my comments as 'whataboutism'. As the weeks and months wore on, whenever I would write about the growing Palestinian civilian casualty toll, or the bombing of hospitals, or the denial of water, food, medicine and electricity, or the deliberate destruction of more than 70 per cent of Gaza's buildings, and the repeated forced expulsions of families, the responses I would receive invariably included 'Hamas started it', 'what about the hostages', or worse. In other words, Israeli lives were all that mattered. And the Israeli narrative became the only acceptable one. In other words, since the story began on October 7, what followed was a justifiable response. The Israelis' ability to control the narrative has long characterised the conflict. They would say: 'The Balfour Declaration gave Israel a legal right to Palestine'; or 'In 1948, tiny Israel was attacked by all surrounding Arab armies'; or 'In 1967 Israel was only defending itself'. All of these Israeli-defined 'starting points' are fictions that ignore everything that led up to them and the stories they tell are seen only through the biased lens of those who have imposed them. This problem of false narratives based on biased histories isn't just a problem for Israel or the US. It is unfortunately all too common, especially in conflict situations. When those who seek to help resolve a conflict are captive to one side's definitions and perspective, it is a recipe for continued tension and ultimately disaster. Peacemaking requires that an effort be made to rise above false narratives, self-serving starting points and the biased perceptions of one or another side. That's not 'whataboutism' – it's leadership. And it's been sorely lacking in the US.
The National
05-08-2025
- Politics
- The National
October 7, 2023, was not the beginning of the war in Gaza
Our understanding of a historical event's meaning is a function of two factors. The first is what we choose to identify as the starting point leading up to the event. The second is the lens through which we view it. This should be obvious, but unfortunately, it is not, and the failure to acknowledge or understand it has consequences in everything from public policy to personal relationships. This truth can be ignored due to thoughtlessness, blindness to one's biases, or just plain ignorance. On some occasions, there can be malign intent, including efforts to deliberately hide what one knows to be an event's antecedents for political or personal reasons. Before examining the issue that prompted this column, I want to share an example. The comedian Dick Gregory once noted that despite what Americans were taught in school, 'Christopher Columbus didn't discover America, because it wasn't lost'. His point seems simple enough, but upon closer examination, it reveals deeper truths. 'Columbus discovered America' erases the history, civilisation and contributions of the indigenous groups who populated the lands that Europeans came to call the New World. Even the term 'New World' was a thinly veiled masking of their imperial self-understanding and intent. 'We discovered these lands, and they are ours to take, name, and exploit.' The American history we were taught was an extension of European history. It began with Columbus. Then moved to the Spanish, British and French colonialists, culminating in the Revolutionary War and the birth of the US. The native peoples were treated as bit players in the unfolding story – at times, a footnote, at others, an inconvenient obstacle. This story of American history results from choosing Columbus as the starting point and using a lens so Euro-centric that it only sees the indigenous peoples who populated this land as less than human and therefore less deserving of defining their own history or even remaining on their land. They were removed and/or massacred, their humanity was ignored, and their treatment was justified because they were of less worth than the Europeans who displaced them. This reflection was prompted by the way Israel's war on Gaza continues to be reported in large sections of western media and discussed in western policy circles. US reporters appear to be required to include a line in their stories that reads: 'The hostilities began on October 7, 2023, when Hamas militants attacked Israel, killing 1,200 and taking 250 hostages.' It isn't accidental that this line (or something very close to it) occurs in almost every US print story. We all must agree that what happened on October 7 was traumatic for Israelis and Jews around the world. It was a shock that their security was breached, and that some horrible and condemnable atrocities were committed by Hamas and others who joined in their attacks. But history didn't begin or end on October 7. Recall that just a few weeks before the Hamas-led attacks, then-US president Joe Biden's national security adviser, Jake Sullivan, noted that the Middle East was the calmest it had been in years. This statement gave short shrift to the Palestinian reality and made clear the biased lens through which he saw the region. He was ignoring Israel's continued economic strangulation of Gaza (which made Palestinians increasingly dependent on Israel or Hamas for their livelihood) and the growing threat of settler violence, settlement expansion and land confiscations in the West Bank and East Jerusalem. A few weeks after October 7, I met Mr Sullivan and listened to him describe the pain and fear of Israelis and how October 7 evoked the traumas of their history. I told him that I completely understood and agreed that Hamas stood rightly condemned for what they had done. I cautioned him, however, not to ignore the trauma of the Palestinians – their pain and fears – and their history of dispossession. He became angry and waved off my comments as 'whataboutism'. As the weeks and months wore on, whenever I would write about the growing Palestinian civilian casualty toll, or the bombing of hospitals, or the denial of water, food, medicine and electricity, or the deliberate destruction of more than 70 per cent of Gaza's buildings, and the repeated forced expulsions of families, the responses I would receive invariably included 'Hamas started it', 'what about the hostages', or worse. In other words, Israeli lives were all that mattered. And the Israeli narrative became the only acceptable one. In other words, since the story began on October 7, what followed was a justifiable response. The Israelis' ability to control the narrative has long characterised the conflict. They would say: 'The Balfour Declaration gave Israel a legal right to Palestine'; or 'In 1948, tiny Israel was attacked by all surrounding Arab armies'; or 'In 1967, Israel was only defending itself'. All of these Israeli-defined 'starting points' are fictions that ignore everything that led up to them and the stories they tell are seen only through the biased lens of those who have imposed them. This problem of false narratives based on biased histories isn't just a problem for Israel or the US. It is, unfortunately, all too common, especially in conflict situations. When those who seek to help resolve a conflict are captive to one side's definitions and perspective, it is a recipe for continued tension and ultimately disaster. Peacemaking requires that an effort be made to rise above false narratives, self-serving starting points and the biased perceptions of one or another side. That's not 'whataboutism' – it's leadership. And it's been sorely lacking in the US.
BBC News
01-07-2025
- General
- BBC News
Northampton's Great Fire to be discussed at special event
A university is to hold a conference for people with an interest in learning more about a fire that destroyed most of a town in the 17th Great Fire of Northampton in 1675 destroyed 700 of the town's 850 buildings and claimed 11 lives.A programme of cultural events is being held to mark the 350th anniversary and the University of Northampton event on 4 July will provide a platform to discuss the university said the symposium, to be held between 10:00 and 16:00 BST at the Senate Building on its Waterside Campus, would look at the "emotional impact and legacy of such a monumental moment in the town's history". Talks from local historians will be held throughout the day and the conference will be free to enter but will require booking prior to the symposium is part of a five-month programme of events and activities to showcase the story of the fire and the rebuild that followed. Earl Spencer, who has written several historical books and co-hosts a history podcast, previously said that the Great Fire of Northampton "was more devastating than the Great Fire of London for its scale".The 1666 fire in London destroyed 80% of the Spencer said the fire in Northampton burned down almost "the entirety" of the county town."It's important for us to remember it – this was something that was an existential threat to a town," he said. Follow Northamptonshire news on BBC Sounds, Facebook, Instagram and X.
The Guardian
04-06-2025
- General
- The Guardian
‘Tudor high drama': English Heritage looks for descendants of abbey rebels
They included a brewer, a tailor and a shoemaker – a hardy bunch of craftspeople prepared to stand up to the might of the Tudor regime to try to save their local monastery. Exactly five centuries on, English Heritage is appealing for people who think they may be descendants of those who took part in the uprising against Cardinal Thomas Wolsey's closure of Bayham Abbey to come forward. The idea is to get some of them together for a commemorative event this summer to mark the Bayham Abbey uprising, which took place on 4 June 1525 and is seen as a precursor to the turbulent years of religious reform that followed. Michael Carter, an English Heritage historian, described the Bayham Abbey uprising as a moment of 'Tudor high drama'. He said: 'It is a fascinating precursor to Henry VIII's religious reforms – a harbinger not only of the dissolution of the monasteries 10 years later but also of the Pilgrimage of Grace, a major revolt against the reforms in the north of England in 1536 and 1537. 'In 1525, Bayham was deeply embedded in the religious and social life of its locality. Many of its community – the canons – were local boys and their prayers were highly prized. In addition, a bed in which St Richard of Chichester slept had been preserved at Bayham Abbey as a relic and was believed to perform miracles.' The uprising was probably not just spiritual in nature. The abbey was also a significant employer and those who took part in the uprising were predominantly tradespeople. 'Whilst they will undoubtedly have feared the loss of their spiritual leaders, their loss of income would have been of equal concern,' said Carter. He said he feared for what happened to them. 'This act of rebellion could have cost them their lives. We are keen to remember and celebrate these brave men.' In advance of the dissolution of monasteries, Wolsey started suppressing some of England's smaller monasteries to fund his new colleges at Oxford and Ipswich. Bayham Abbey on the Kent/Sussex border was among those targeted, leading to its closure in 1525. Incensed, local people turned to violence, and on 4 June 1525 more than 100 men with painted faces and armed with longbows, crossbows, swords and clubs assembled at the abbey. They stormed the gatehouse and temporarily restored the community. The canons were again removed a week later and 31 men were indicted by the crown for rioting. It is the descendants of these men that English Heritage is hoping to find. They include Thomas Godfowle, a labourer; the tailor William Lamkyn; John Muge, a fuller (cloth worker); and the weaver William Mepam. Among their number are also a possible father and son, John Whitesyde, senior and junior. It is not clear what happened to most of the men but the abbot William Gale, who was among the 31, went on to head an abbey in Buckinghamshire until it was suppressed in 1536. Today Bayham Abbey, founded circa 1208 and built from golden sandstone, is a picturesque ruin with much of the church, gatehouse and chapter house remaining. The full list of those who took part in the uprising can be seen on the English Heritage website. Anyone who thinks they have a connection with the rebels can email press@
Japan Times
17-05-2025
- Politics
- Japan Times
The emperor and the shogun: A power struggle across the centuries
In the second month of the third year of the Bunkyu era — March 1863 — there occurred perhaps the oddest beheading in the long history of righteous indignation. Nine swordsmen stormed the Toji-in temple in Kyoto. The victims were utterly defenseless. They were statues — three wooden statues of men — shoguns — dead some 500 years. Historian Anne Walthall, in 'The Weak Body of a Useless Woman: Matsuo Taseko and the Meiji Restoration,' recreates the scene: The swordsmen 'tied up the monks on guard, then invaded the hall where the statues were enshrined. One man suggested that the statues' bodies be destroyed, but the others objected because they were carved in full court dress. Out of respect for the emperor they should remain unscathed. ... Having been fashioned from a separate block of wood, the heads were simply yanked out of the bodies. ... Clasping the heads ... the nine men departed as noisily as they had come. Once outside the temple, (one of their number) led them in a chorus of war cries, then they ran back through the city, pausing briefly to bow before a gate to the imperial palace.' Historian Donald Keene, in 'Yoshimasa and the Silver Pavilion: The Creation of the Soul of Japan,' adds this detail: The swordsmen 'then exposed the heads on the banks of the Kamo River, following the common practice at the time of 'patriots' exposing for all to see the heads of men accused of being traitors. Beside the heads of the three shoguns, placards were set up enumerating the crimes of each.' Mid-19th-century Japan was a seething cauldron. For 250 years, the country had been sealed shut against the outside world. Perhaps no other major culture in world history had developed in such splendid isolation, feeding only on itself, neither influenced nor influencing, not preyed upon and not preying. For two centuries, those who chose myth over reality faced no rude awakening from their conviction that theirs was 'the land of the gods,' its ancient divine inheritance inviolable and eternal. Then came the rude awakening. The U.S. Navy's Black Ships are a familiar symbol of the force that opened Japan — a crack in 1853, then wider, then wider still. Foreign feet trod the sacred soil, their numbers growing, their rights and privileges expanding. Was this to be permitted? It was, declared the shogun ruling in Edo (present-day Tokyo) — if only because Japan was powerless to resist. It was not, said the emperor reigning politically impotent in Kyoto, divine guardian of the divine nation's divine myths. Assassins roamed the land — in the emperor's service, they said — cutting down foreigners and Japanese deemed collaborators, traitors to Japan's sacred past, sacred present and sacred future. Imperial restoration was their aim. They scarcely foresaw the Meiji Restoration they themselves were hatching, neither its imminence — it lay a scant five years down the road at the time of the attack on the statues — nor the modernizing and Westernizing direction it ultimately took, scarcely less noxious in their nostrils than the shogunate it toppled. Those who propelled history forward were turned by history into such anachronisms that to modern eyes they seem as archaic as an earlier restoration they hoped to reproduce: the Kenmu Restoration of 1333-36. Three ancient characters, larger than life for better or worse, were in spirit very much alive to the 19th-century avenging swordsmen who made life intolerable and ultimately impossible for the Edo shoguns helpless to stem the foreign incursion. The three are Emperor Go-Daigo (1288-1339), the guerrilla warrior Kusunoki Masashige (1294-1336) and shogun Ashikaga Takauji (1305-58). Go-Daigo: living symbol of everything the 19th-century swordsmen fought for — an emperor not only reigning but ruling, no mere figurehead but a god ruling the land of the gods and its people of the gods. Kusunoki: the ultimate loyalist hero, leading followers numbered in hundreds against shogunal armies numbered in tens of thousands, knowing his cause was doomed and fighting all the more fiercely, leading his men forward crying, 'Would we had seven lives to give that we may destroy the enemies of the Court!' And Takauji, the villain of the drama — the ultimate traitor, 'enemy of the Court' number one, founder of the Ashikaga shogunate that ruled from 1336 to 1573 and (thus Keene's title) creator of 'the soul of Japan.' Takauji's greatness as warrior and statesman stand him in little stead in historical memory: his fate is sealed, he it was who betrayed Go-Daigo. Posterity judged him and wreaked its vengeance on his statue 500 years later; the two others were of his immediate successors, his son and grandson. Go-Daigo's Kenmu uprising against the Kamakura shogunate (1185-1333), precursor of the Meiji uprising against the Edo shogunate (1603-1868), was a hopelessly muddled, comically bungled affair, doomed to certain and instant failure, yet, for a time, triumphant — how? Thanks to Takauji, whose first betrayal — not of Go-Daigo but of the shogun whose leading general he was — turned the tide. The contemporary anonymous court chronicle 'Masukagami' ('The Clear Mirror') says of him (in George Perkins' translation), 'Takauji had given the shogunate a solemn written pledge of unswerving loyalty when he left Kamakura, but his true intentions were said to be in doubt. ... It had been whispered that Takauji might try to use the present national crisis to elevate his own position, and the whispers proved to be well grounded.' Suddenly he was an imperial loyalist. An ambitious man thwarted in his ambitions, he sought their fulfillment elsewhere — in the imperial camp. Turning against his former masters, he freed Go-Daigo from wretched and ignominious exile on a remote island and stormed Kamakura. 'The attackers' battle cry was like a thunderclap, a noise loud enough to shake the earth. ... Emperor Kogon (the shogun's puppet, installed in the exiled Go-Daigo's stead), and (other courtiers) were utterly distraught. Accustomed only to the strains of musical instruments, they were stupefied by a sound so extraordinary and sinister.' The Kamakura Period was over. Go-Daigo enthroned and ruling not only in name but in fact would give our story a happy ending. It was not to be. The Kenmu Restoration 'was an unmitigated fiasco,' writes historian Ivan Morris in 'The Nobility of Failure: Tragic Heroes in the History of Japan.' Go-Daigo's tragic flaw was his inability to come down from his divine clouds and understand human beings. Takauji he grievously misjudged, according him to whom he owned his otherwise impossible triumph scant honor. Cut to the quick, Takauji turned again, seizing the shogunate in open defiance of the imperial will. Japan was at war. 'The Battle of Minato River,' Morris writes, 'was fought on a sweltering summer day in 1336 and lasted from ten o'clock in the morning until about five in the evening': the loyalist guerrilla warrior Kusunoki versus Takauji the rebel shogun. The loyalists had no chance and knew it. Our story opened with a display of heads and now closes with one. 'Masashige's head,' we read in the contemporary chronicle 'Taiheiki' ('Chronicle of Great Peace,' translated by Helen McCullough), 'was exposed in the river bed at Rokujo. ... Subsequently Lord Takauji sent for the head and despatched it to Masashige's home with a message saying, 'It really grieves me when I think how long he and I were close associates' — as enemies, but what does that matter? In Japanese history, the 'association' of enmity is as dear and intimate as the association of friendship. And Emperor Go-Daigo? He fled the capital and set up a 'Southern Court' in the mountains of Yoshino, where the cherries bloom. Takauji ignored it as Go-Daigo ignored him, Takauji giving his sanction to the 'Northern Court' in Kyoto and being sanctioned by it in turn; it confirmed his appointment as shogun, in which office he died in 1358. The two courts remained divided until 1392. Michael Hoffman is the author of 'Arimasen.'
