How the alt-right emerged from men’s self-help

000d241f-800Like a lot of people, I’ve been scrambling to make sense of the Trump victory and what it says about public attitudes in the US and western culture generally. I’ve spent this week researching the alt-right movement and reading some of its literature. We don’t yet know to what extent the alt-right helped Trump to victory, and to what extent its beliefs appeal to the general population. But let me suggest some points about alt-right philosophy, and the way to engage with it at a grass-roots level.

Aspects of alt-right culture overlaps with men’s self-help, and with classical virtue ethics like Stoicism.

This may come as a surprise to those who think of the alt-right as gamer-nerds and illiterate meme-fanatics, but a lot of it appears to be driven by disaffected young college-educated men looking for a code to live by. Some of them are drawn to classical virtue ethics like Stoicism because it offers a way to feel strong in a chaotic world. Clearly, they misinterpret ancient philosophy. But their interest in it offers a way that educators can engage with them.

If I was Muslim I would be engaging with young men drawn to toxic variants of Islam, to try and steer them away from it, for their good and the good of my culture. I think that’s necessary with the alt-right too – we should engage with those young men who are genuinely looking for a path to self-improvement, to try and steer them away from the toxic aspects of alt-right culture, such as white supremacy and misogyny.

What is the alt-right?

Pepe the Frog - one of the alt-right's favourite memes, as found on anonymouse image-based websites like 4Chan.

Pepe the Frog – one of the alt-right’s favourite memes, as found on anonymous image-based websites like 4Chan.

The best intro I found was from the Breitbart news site, formerly edited by Steve Bannon, Trump’s new senior advisor, which styles itself as an alt-right platform. It features ‘an establishment conservative’s guide to the alt-right’, by Milo Yiannopoulos and Allum Bokhari. This article divides the movement into four groups.

Firstly, the ‘natural conservatives’ – those who, in social psychologist Jonathan Haidt’s formulation, naturally feel disposed to an emotional politics of order, honour and harmony, as opposed to a leftist emotional politics of justice, fairness and equality. Secondly, the ‘meme gang’ – young men on the internet who spend hours joyfully constructing memes to support Trump and shock liberals. They don’t necessarily believe in Nazism…or anything, they just like to shock and get lulz. This group has been associated with trolling campaigns like gamergate or the harassment of the female Ghostbusters cast. Thirdly, the ‘1488-ers’ – straight-up Neo-Nazis, so-called because of the 14 words uttered by the founder of the American Nazi party – ‘We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children‘ – and the two 8’s at the end represent the letters HH, Heil Hitler.

The manosphere

Finally, there are the ‘intellectuals’. Yanniopoulos and Bokhari write: ‘The so-called online “manosphere,” the nemeses of left-wing feminism, quickly became one of the alt-right’s most distinctive constituencies.’ I studied three particular writers in this ‘manosphere’, who connect the alt-right with male self-help: Mike Cernovich, author of ‘The Gorilla Mindset’ and ‘The MAGA Mindset’; Jack Donovan, author of ‘The Way of Men’; and Roosh V, pick-up artist and editor of a popular men’s website called Return of Kings. Cernovich has been called ‘the meme mastermind of the alt-right‘, Roosh now distances himself from the alt-right but actively supported the Trump campaign as a means to patriarchy, while Donovan speaks at white supremacist forums like American Renaissance.

All three offer a form of self-help for young men looking for a strong identity.

All three believe that masculine identity is in crisis in the west. They believe it’s been emasculated by feminism, threatenend by multiculturalism, enfeebled by corporate and consumer capitalism, and betrayed by older men who failed to provide strong role models. As a result, they say, western men have ended up miserable, weak, lonely, addicted and suicidal.

And who speaks for these wretched men? Every other interest group has their spokespeople and their movements. Feminism has its consciousness-raising circles, its heroines, its academic conferences. And men? The closest thing is a new and small field in academia called ‘masculine studies’ . But ‘masculine studies’ academics mainly wring their hands about traditional male identity and try to make men more like women.

Watch the documentary ‘The Mask You Live In’ (or the trailer, here), which is about the ‘male crisis’. It’s made by a woman, features more female experts than male, and focuses entirely on the problems with masculinity: men don’t show emotions, men binge drink and take dangerous risks, men play violent video games, men are drawn to casual sex, men are addicted to online porn, men humiliate women in ‘locker-room talk’, men are taught only to value sports and not other activities. And so on. Masculinity is apparently a disorder. And the solution to masculinity disorder is to become more like a woman, perhaps literally, like Grayson Perry, the transvestite artist and author of a new guide to What’s Wrong With Men.

Into this ethical vacuum step alt-right preachers of ‘neo-masculinity’, like radical Imams, if radical Imans were also pick-up artists.

The alt-right antidote to the ‘decline of men’ is to celebrate male identity and look for a code of living that leads to male strength and pride.

Like me, some alt-righters in the manosphere are drawn to ideas from classical philosophy and modern therapy, which help people take control of their emotions. Roosh V, the pick-up artist and editor of Return of Kings, has frequently written on classical Stoicism as a ‘means to serenity’. He’s also written on ‘neo-masculinity’, a movement which looks to classical philosophy for an ethical foundation. Mike Cernovich’s Gorilla Mindset re-packages techniques for emotional self-management from Cognitive Behavioural Therapy and Stoicism, and mixes in some evolutionary psychology. And Jack Donovan has written on the need for a male virtue ethics, which emphasizes traditional values like courage, honour and self-discipline.

_77646868_3patrolHowever, there’s also an aspect of alt-right neo-masculinity that is less drawn to virtue ethics and more to a sort of primitive tribalism or gang-culture. In the Way of Men, Jack Donovan defines male identity in the context of the male gang – men seek identity through the approval of other men, and through finding their place in the gang hierarchy, as chimpanzees do. Men are judged, Donovan says, by the extent to which they are a ‘real man’ – i.e, would they be good in a fight, can they defend themselves and others, do they defend their or their group’s honour, or are they a cissy?

The principle mission of the male gang, Donovan writes, is to secure the perimeter, and defend Us against Them – the outsider tribe. It doesn’t entirely matter who They are – Muslims, Jews, Republicans, zombies. They are really a means to Us bonding as a gang. There’s some confusion about who exactly Us is. Are neo-Nazis us? Or gays like Donovan or Yanniopoulos? Or non-whites like Roosh? The alt-right smooths over these anxieties by focusing on Them: feminists and Muslims.

Where do women fit in to the male gang world? For Jack Donovan, who’s gay, they’re purely a means to an end – men need them to reproduce and keep the tribe / gang going. He’s inspired by chimpanzee culture, in which he notes rape and female battering is common. Women are breeders, that’s all. For Roosh, they’re playgrounds and trophies.

Fight Club - violent apocalypse as the means to male bonding

Fight Club – violent apocalypse as the means to male bonding

At the extreme, Donovan looks forward to the collapse of civilization and the flourishing of gang war, because then men can finally be men. Peace and prosperity make life boring, miserable and unheroic, he thinks. Bring on the apocalypse, as an exercise in male bonding. War is the game men play. Violence is the test, the means to ecstasy. War makes men. Peace makes half-men.

This ideology seems to me the white version of Jihadism – the sense of cultural grievance, the ‘elimination of the Gray Zone’ into Us versus Them, the desire for a global projection of heroic male strength, and the desire for a battlefield where one can play at war, not just in a video-game, but for real.

I can’t really engage young Muslim men, because I’m a kafir, an unbeliever, and I don’t really know the Koran. But I can engage with young men drawn to classical philosophy and self-help, because I was also drawn to this when I was a miserable and alienated young man. So how could one engage with this group? Here are some possible talking points:

  1. We are more than chimpanzees. There is more to male strength than just brute force. Jack Donovan says we all admire immoral strong men like Al Pacino’s Scarface, but that’s not true – some adolescent boys do, but most grow out of that. Humans have the capacity to reflect on what’s right and wrong and to agree on a code of ethics. That’s what makes a tribe strong. When a tribe throws out its ethical culture and descends to the level of animal brutality, as the Nazis did, it doesn’t last long.
  2. Women are, on average genetically, just as intelligent as men. They also, on average, score higher on empathy – a trait conspicuously lacking in the manosphere. Look at the cultures where women are encouraged to participate in public life, and the cultures where they’re not. Which cultures are stronger? Which are doing better? How strong and successful do you think Saudi Arabian culture is, or Afghan culture? At an ethical level, do you really want your daughter / sister not to have the same capacity to flourish as you or your son? There’s a weird paradox in the alt-right – on the one hand, they see themselves as the defenders of western civilization against Islam, on the other hand, they actually want to make western civilization more like Shariah cultures like Saudi Arabia (more patriarchal, less democratic and with less respect for the rule of law).
  3. All the classical philosophers that some alt-righters claim to revere put virtue before brute power. The Stoics, in particular, were cosmopolitans – they believed in a universal moral code that transcends race, gender or nationality. Some, like Plato and Musonius Rufus, argued for the equal education of men and women, two and a half millennia before it occurred. They did not believe ‘might is right’ – Thucydides criticizes precisely that attitude for leading to the undermining of Athenian influence during the Peleponnesian War. The Roman Empire flourished partly because it had an amazing army, but also because it offered a universalist culture – the Pax Romana – which other ethnicities and tribes could join. Likewise both Islam and Christianity expanded because they offered a universal society transcending race. A culture based on ethnicity, by contrast, or on the brutal power of a despot, is a weak culture, it won’t attract cohorts, it won’t last.
  4. Strong man cultures – in which a strong leader is revered and given all power – have typically not done well, they haven’t lasted. They may initially lead to a wave of conquests but they then rapidly collapse. Strong cultures that last are based not on personalities but institutions (what survives of Napoleon is the Napoleonic Code).
  5. Alt-righters in the manosphere are obsessed with honour and reputation, with being perceived as alpha men, not beta weaklings. But Stoicism believes male strength comes from virtue, not honour or reputation. If you’re incredibly prickly about your honour, you’re weak and insecure – you fly off the handle at any perceived diss. You’re no better than hysterical campus liberals scanning for ‘micro-aggressions’. Honour cultures – like, say, Pakistan, or Sicily in the past – have traditionally been weak, because the men are constantly killing each other or their wives and daughters for any perceived slight to their honour. Strong men are secure enough in their self-respect to ignore a diss – unless something genuinely threatens their person or their culture, in which case they act.
  6. If you’re obsessed with winning other men’s approval and appearing Alpha in their eyes, that’s not strength, that’s weakness. You’re enslaving yourself to their approval. Your whole life becomes an attempt to impress others – you pump iron to impress other men, you pull women to impress other men, you end up miserable and alone all because you spent your life trying to impress other men. Strong men don’t obsess over how Alpha they appear to other men.
  7. If you think western culture has become a ‘culture of grievances’, as Milo Yiannopoulos put it, that doesn’t mean masculinity has to give in to victimhood as well. Marcus Aurelius wrote, ‘the best revenge is not to be like that’.
  8. Trolling is a desperate bid for attention. Again, that’s not strong at all, that’s weak.
  9. European culture went from rag-tag gangs in the Dark Ages to a powerful civilization that spread across the world partly through the invention of chivalry – strong warriors were persuaded to obey a moral code, which protected the weak. Alt-righters mock chivalry, but that makes their culture weak – who wants to join a chimpanzee culture that only values force? The foundation of Judeo-Christianity is also love for the oppressed and the weak – again, alt-righters like Steve Bannon describe themselves as heroic defenders of Judeo-Christian civilization, but they’re really more Nietzschean in their contempt for the weak.
  10. If you really want to risk your life in a heroic adventure, join the army. Test yourself by fighting ISIS, not by harassing women on Twitter. That’s not being a man. Join the army. When you’re in it, you’ll find yourself fighting side by side with people of other ethnicities – 30% of the US military is non-white – and you might decide you can trust and bond with men whose skin is a different colour.

Those are some of the talking points one could use. One should not go in with name-calling, one should recognize the emotional hurt beneath the toxic ideas. Epictetus wrote: ‘A guide, on finding a man who has lost his way, brings him back to the right path—he does not mock and jeer at him and then take himself off. You also must show the unlearned man the truth, and you will see that he will follow. But so long as you do not show it him, you should not mock, but rather feel your own incapacity.’

Normativity November: PSYCHIC DRIVING: Therapy, Mind Control, and Programming the Normal

img_2780David Saunders started his PhD in the Centre for the History of the Emotions in October 2016. His research is funded by the Wellcome Trust and intersects with our Living with Feeling grant.

 

 


You feel friendly towards people. You like to feel intimate with others. You can get along with people by being yourself.

These words would not be out of place in your average self-help book. These kind of messages are contained in the countless paperback volumes that line the shelves of train station bookshops or lay forgotten in airport lounges.

You feel neat and tidy. If you see paper on the floor, you pick it up.

Yet for Louis Weinstein, a once prominent businessman from Montréal, these apparently harmless words harboured something far more sinister.

You feel friendly towards people. You like to feel intimate with others. You can get along with people by being yourself.

In 1956, following a string of panic attacks, Weinstein was referred to the Allan Memorial Institute. Here, he encountered a “revolutionary” new type of therapy.

You feel neat and tidy. If you see paper on the floor, you pick it up.

Confined to his room with a tape recorder, Weinstein was made to listen to endless loops of these positive messages.

You feel friendly towards people. You like to feel intimate with others. You can get along with people by being yourself.

The loops continued without interruption for fifty-four days.

You feel neat and tidy. If you see paper on the floor, you pick it up.

On the fifty-fourth day, staff found Weinstein hiding under a blanket, hallucinating.

You feel friendly towards people. You like to feel intimate with others. You can get along with people by being yourself.

Speaking to the Washington Post in 1985, Weinstein’s son Harvey spoke of how his father returned home with severe memory loss and paranoia. He could barely communicate with his family. “He lost everything.”

You feel neat and tidy. If you see paper on the floor, you pick it up.

This therapeutic revolution was known as “psychic driving.”

*****

Psychic driving was the brainchild of the Institute’s director, Donald Ewen Cameron. Cameron believed that talking therapies for psychiatric conditions were slow, ineffective, and costly, and thus experimented with dramatic and completely untested physical methods to treat depression and anxiety.

At the Allan Memorial Institute, the tape machine was to replace the psychiatrist. Using endless loops of taped positive messages, Cameron believed that he could destroy the abnormal memories, beliefs, and behaviours of his patients and reprogram them into sociable, courteous, well-adjusted members of society. These loops would continue for days, weeks, even months on end, overwhelming his patients’ senses. When patients resisted, headphones were taped to their heads; eventually, they were immobilised entirely using a cocktail of depressants and psychedelic substances.

How was this expensive programme of research being funded? As far as most patients and staff were aware, Cameron’s ambitious experiments were being paid for by a generous scientific organisation called the Society for the Investigation of Human Ecology. But no such organisation existed: the Society was merely a front for the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA).

Since 1953, the CIA’s MK-ULTRA programme had been funding scientific research into brainwashing and mind control. In the hostile and competitive Cold War environment, Cameron’s research sounded extremely promising to intelligence agencies, offering a reliable method for wiping and reprogramming the minds of allies and enemies alike. As such, the CIA poured $75,000 into Cameron’s research, weaponizing his relentless quest to restore patients to “health”.

How does the history of “psychic driving” point to the unexpected and troubling ramifications of our search for “normality” and quick-fix therapy? What “normal” attributes and behaviours might we wish to promote in ourselves? What happens when these desires are taken to obsessive lengths, or exploited for unknown purposes? These are all questions that will be explored at The Museum of the Normal, in which visitors will be encouraged to record their own taped messages as part of an evolving sound installation created across the evening. The end product, which will be made available to all visitors after the event, will stand as a collaborative exploration of our assumptions, desires, and fears about what it means to be normal.


This post is part of our ‘Normativity November’ series which explores the concept of the normal as we prepare for our exciting Being Human events ‘Emotions and Cancer’ on 22 November and ‘The Museum of the Normal’ on 24 November.

Normativity November: The History of Being Normal

sarah-chaney_0

Sarah Chaney is a Project Manager in the Centre for the History of the Emotions at QMUL. She also runs the events and exhibitions programme at the Royal College of Nursing. Her book Psyche on the Skin: A History of Self-Harm is out in February 2017.

 


“Am I normal?” seems to be a defining question in modern Western culture, across every area of human life and experience, in health and illness. But has this always been the case? And who gets to say what’s normal anyway? Psychiatrists, psychologists, sociologists and anthropologists have all been eager to have their say on this matter. Is normal a sign of health? Is it culturally relative? And when is a norm transferrable from one person to another?

These concerns are often charted back to Emile Durkheim, the influential nineteenth-century philosopher who established sociology as a science. In The Rules of Sociological Method (1895), Durkheim’s discussion of ‘the normal and the pathological’ revolved around its legal implications. Many criminologists of the era, such as the prominent Cesare Lombroso, regarded criminality as a hereditary pathological state. Yet Durkheim contradicted this view. Crime, he concluded, is a normal and inevitable part of society, and so it must perform a positive function. The abnormal, then, was a necessary counterpart to the normal, which facilitated change and social progress.

Not everyone held this positive view, of course. In medicine, pathology had long been something to be eliminated. But even here what the pathological was was tricky to define. Was it a distinct and definite thing – such as a germ or tumour – that could be removed from the otherwise normal body? Or was a medical pathology something that altered the fundamental make-up of an organism? The Hippocratic model of health and illness, focusing on the four humours, contended that disease was caused by an imbalance of these substances. This meant that pathology was a total state, and the outward symptoms of illness were the body’s efforts to bring back harmony: symptoms might be tolerated, or even encouraged, in order to cause this change.

Before the nineteenth century, however, the term “normal” was not usually associated with human behaviour. Normal was a mathematical term, referring to something standing at a right angle. It was the popularity of statistics in the Victorian era that encouraged the application of these mathematical standards to human life. In 1835, French statistician Adolph Quetelet proposed that human traits fell along a Gaussian curve, or normal distribution. The “normal” here was the average. Take hand span, for example: the largest number of people would have a hand span falling at the centre of the population.

This did not, of course, mean that there was any particular benefit in having an average hand span. Increasingly, however, these prescriptive judgments were made in the late nineteenth century. The centre of the curve became viewed as something desirable, not just something that happened to exist, and applied to increasing numbers of human traits and behaviours. This was helped by the standardisation of other areas of life. Compulsory education, for example, led to the identification of children who learnt more slowly than their classmates.

Yet, deciding where the line between normal and abnormal lies has never been an easy task. Even psychiatrists, most often considered the guardians of what is and is not normal, struggled with the concept towards the end of the Victorian era. In the early 1890s, Walter Abraham Haigh, previously a patient at the Bethlem Royal Hospital, wrote to his doctors to discuss his ongoing symptoms. “As you are aware”, he wrote, “the ‘sane’ world has little idea of these ‘sense perversions’ many of which are classified under the name of insanity.”[1] Haigh’s use of inverted commas around the word “sane” cast doubt on the association of sanity with normality. Sanity, like the normal, became a relative term, related to “certain laws, rules and conventions which slowly grow around men as they advance in civilization”, according to Haigh’s former psychiatrist George Henry Savage. For some doctors in this era, sanity became something judged not against a normal curve, but against the past experiences and behaviour of an individual. Something that was pathological in one person might be perfectly compatible with normal in another.

But where does this leave us today? Exploring the history of the contested ways in which normal standards have changed or been measured across different times, places and cultures contradicts the view that normality is somehow a natural concept. In this ‘Normativity November’ series, Dave Saunders will explain how ‘psychic driving’ was developed in 1950s America to banish abnormal memories and encourage positive behaviours without the need for a psychiatrist. Helen Stark will discuss the how concepts of normal masculine behaviour changed in the late eighteenth century and Stacy Hackner will detail how skulls have been used to determine normality in relation to race.  As we look back on how people in past eras have been excluded from society on the basis of a set of expectations that may or may not be considered normal by today’s standards, we encourage you, the reader to reflect on which of today’s norms might be mocked or critiqued in a hundred years’ time. Maybe it’s normal to worry about being normal. But we can still be critical of the very concept.


References

[1] Read more about this in my article ‘‘No “Sane” Person Would Have Any Idea’: Patients’ Involvement in Late Nineteenth-century British Asylum Psychiatry’.


This post is the first in our ‘Normativity November’ series which explores the concept of the normal as we prepare for our exciting Being Human events ‘Emotions and Cancer’ on 22 November and ‘The Museum of the Normal’ on 24 November.

Music and Emotions Concert – Part 2

This is the second of two posts about the Music and Emotions Concert held at Barts Pathology Museum and supported by the QMUL Centre for Public Engagement. You can read the first post on this blog


So what did the results of our wellbeing umbrellas and questionnaires show? Unfortunately we had some problems with the wellbeing umbrellas and although forty one were completed, we only have ten paired sets (where the audience member filled out an umbrella at the beginning and the end and handed them in together). Of these ten pairs, seven showed an increase in wellbeing (calculated by adding up the total ratings before the concert, the total ratings afterwards, finding the difference between the two scores and dividing this by the score before the session and multiplying it by one hundred). For two participants, this was by as much as 50%. Figure 1 shows these ten participants’ wellbeing before (in blue) and after the concert (in orange).

Figure One

Figure One

If we consider this data by state rather than by individual, we see that on average, participants reported feeling 34% more inspired, 26% more active, 5% more enthusiastic, 28% more excited and 5% happier after the concert than before. Only alertness showed a decrease – of 14%. This would seem to suggest that the concert did in general have a positive impact on wellbeing and this is reinforced by responses to the questionnaire, where ‘happy’, ‘relaxed’, ‘peaceful’, ‘uplifted’ uniformly top the graph (figure 2).

The questionnaire discloses some unexpected results though too, shown in figure 2. Each coloured line represents a different emotion or emotional state. Those that are capitalised were given as options on the questionnaire. Lower case adjectives were supplied by respondents. I discounted anything with a response rate lower than 6 as it made the graph too complex. On the vertical axis are numbers of responses, on the horizontal axis the number corresponds to the piece played. The order was:

  • Claude Debussy Sonata for flute, viola and harp
  • Yann Tiersen On the wire (for solo viola)
  • S. Bach Sonata in G minor BWV 1020 for flute and harp

Interval

  • Ravi Shankar L’aube enchantée for flute and harp
  • Maurice Ravel Sonatine (transcribed from the original piano work) for flute, viola and harp
  • Astor Piazzolla Oblivion (improvised by the ensemble)

questionnaire

There are some notable peaks and troughs. We can see that levels of relaxation begin quite high, at 31. They then rapidly decrease in the Tiersen piece to 7 and almost entirely recover during the Bach to 26. The dip in relaxation (and peacefulness, from 25 to 6) is matched by an increase in feeling ‘tense’ (up from 14 to 25) and ‘energetic’ (also 25). This probably reflects the fact that Tiersen’s piece was dramatic and accompanied by foot stomping and expressive facial expressions from David. Tense also gets a high response in piece four and this I cannot explain. One respondee raised an interesting issue: they had ticked tense, excited, energetic, stressed and unhappy in response to piece 2 but commented that they were ‘recognising an emotional tone in the music – e.g. melancholy or anger or exuberance – without actually feeling the corresponding emotion myself.’ So how many audience members were ticking emotions they associated with the music rather than ones they were feeling?

We can also see a relatively high number of audience members reported feeling confused and tense during the first piece of the music and this might have been related to the questionnaire itself and to the format of the event. Some commented that they felt confused because they didn’t understand the form and stressed ‘because I was not sure if we were still on piece one as I didn’t know the music at all’. Another commented that ‘I was very aware of having to decide on what emotions I was feeling. This meant I was very focused on the music & not as distracted by the specimens as I thought I might be.’

At the beginning of part two, the audience were treated to a short talk about music and the history of the emotions from Dr Marie Louise Herzfeld Schild. Participants reflected on how that knowledge affected emotional response in their comments. For example: ‘Knowing that the Ravi Shankar piece was themed on death meant that I thought about the specimens in the museum & imagined them interacting with the music’ and ‘I felt much more relaxed and able to engage emotionally with the music once I knew something about it cultural + historical context, in the second half.’ That knowledge of the music had enriched the experience was a recurring theme: ‘Having an awareness of the music helped to appreciate the musical pieces as well the environment in which they were played’; ‘the talk made me feel more aware + […] this resulted in feeling more alert and engaged. Felt that ‘knowing more’ resulted in subconscious labels and slightly lazier responses but this left me enjoying music more. Maybe’. This final comment raises an interesting question about the extent to which the audience had to ‘work’ in part one compared to part two and its impact on their enjoyment. While most of the quotations I’ve given suggest knowledge enhanced experience, this respondee suggests they may have been ‘lazier’ in the second half and are equivocal about whether information about the music improved the experience or not.

concert-2

While 23 people didn’t respond to the question ‘How did your surroundings impact your feelings about/response to the music?’ at the end of the first half, and 29 didn’t respond at the end of the second, in general the museum did impact on audience responses to the music. While for one person: ‘There is a big contrast between the surrounding exhibited paintings and sample[s] and the peaceful-sounding music’ for another ‘I thought the venue would be more evocative and emotional that [sic] it actually ended up being – If anything it felt surprisingly mundane against the beauty and ethereality of the music.’ For many, the museum was a calm and relaxing space which helped them focus. Others were more unnerved though: ‘Eerie and haunting – effective. Made Piece 2 more impactful.’ Some also responded to the cultural capital afforded by the venue, noting, for example, ‘No real influence – just made feel really cultured’. An idea of the specimens as sentient participants was also invoked: ‘I also felt there was a second layer of audience, with the specimens participating and watching the event.’

There are a handful of other responses I’d like to draw out – consider for example, the respondee who explicitly demonstrates the impact of culture on our experience of a piece of music. In response to piece 4 they wrote: ‘As an Indian, it was a strange experience. I’ve never heard […] performed like this. It was like listening to someone speaking in Hindi with an English accent.’ One member of the audience experienced the music synasthetically and as well as ticking emotional states, wrote down the colours they associated with the pieces – something I had not anticipated. I also hadn’t expected the musicians’ facial expressions to be so important but this was mentioned several times in the comments and in discussion in the interval in terms of shaping emotional response.

I’d like to end on one of the most poetic responses which encapsulates what the event was trying to achieve – which this person has articulated perfectly: ‘I am left with a profound sense of the history of human feeling. The specimens are caught in a moment of time, and so were our emotional responses to this evening’s music. A wonderful way to experience a beautiful performance.’ concert

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History of Emotions Blog Round-Up: July-October 2016

After the summer lull, the start of term is always a busy time. In case you’ve missed any blog posts, here’s our second round-up of 2016 (the first was in July). These are listed in chronological order by month of publication.

July

Helen Stark, ‘Which Three Words Mean Emotional Health to You?’

Evelien Lemmens, ‘”What is Emotional Health?” workshop launches Living with Feeling project at Queen Mary’

Marie Louise Herzfeld Schild, ‘Painting Emotions in Music: Conjoining medical and aesthetic knowledge in 18th century German music aesthetics’

August

Sarah Chaney, ‘New Publications, January-June 2016’

Richard Ashcroft, ‘The Future of Emotions and Emotional Utopias: Notes at the Beginning of a Project’

Eva Yampolsky, ‘The pathology of suicide: between insanity and morality’

Chris Millard, ‘Lies, Damned Lies and Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy’

Eleanor Betts, review of Kate Summerscale’s The Wicked Boy

Disgust Week – curated by Richard Firth-Godbehere and Sarah Chaney

  1. Guenter B. Risse, ‘Gut Reactions: Fear and Disgust in Public Health History’
  2. Martha Nussbaum, Extract from Hiding from Humanity: Disgust, Shame and the Law, ‘Disgust and the Jury: “Horrible and Inhuman” Homicides; Beldotti’s Disgust
  3. Benedict S. Robinson, ‘Disgust: The Very Word’
  4. Natalie Eschenbaum, ‘Attractive Aversion in the Study of Seventeenth-Century Poetry’
  5. Mark Bradley, ‘Diagnosing Deviance: aversion, obscenity and the senses in classical antiquity’
  6. Daniel Kelly, ‘The Deep, Modern, and Extremely Recent Histories of Disgust’
  7. Richard Firth-Godbehere, ‘The Two Dogmas of Disgust’

September

Melissa Dickson, ‘The Objects of Our Affection’

Richard Firth-Godbehere, ‘Taster Post: Cry Me A Driver: Why Computers Fail At Detecting Emotions’

Thomas Dixon, ‘What is anger? 2. Jean Briggs’

Brid Phillips, ‘“O well-painted passion!”: Colour and Emotions in Shakespeare’s Othello’

Dave Saunders, ‘Meet our PhD Students – David Saunders’

Evelien Lemmens, ‘Meet our PhD Students – Evelien Lemmens’

Edgar Gerrard Hughes – ‘Meet our PhD Students – Edgar Gerrard Hughes’

Helen Stark, ‘”What is Emotional Health?” workshop summary’

Sarah Chaney, ‘The Hopes and Fears of Being Human’

October

Helen Stark, ‘Carnival of Lost Emotions at Boundary Fun Palace’

Sarah Chaney, New Publications, July – September 2016′

Music and Emotions Concert – Part 1

This is the first of two posts about the Music and Emotions Concert held at Barts Pathology Museum and supported by the QMUL Centre for Public Engagement. Read the second on Thursday!


Late afternoon on a Monday in early October and my steps up the stone stairs to Barts Pathology Museum are accompanied by the ethereal sound of a harp, flute and violin. The music swells and pulses as I grow closer and I tiptoe through the doors to the sight and sound of the Harborough Collective rehearsing. The museum is softly lit, the musicians framed by a semi-circle of chairs, and the backdrop is very striking indeed: behind them are human-tissue specimens and watercolours showing various human pathologies. Awe-struck by the visual impact of the space, I also felt both excited and peaceful by the music…how would the audience feel in two hours time?

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Lisa, David and Eleanor (the Harborough Collective) were rehearsing for the first collaborative event between the Centre for the History of the Emotions, the QMUL Director of Music (Paul Edlin) and Barts Pathology Museum. We wanted to investigate how listening to music might affect wellbeing and how prior knowledge of the music being played affects emotional responses. To do so, Paul and the Harborough Collective had designed a special programme of music and I had come armed with wellbeing umbrellas  (pictured) and questionnaires. We would ask the audience to complete a wellbeing umbrella at the beginning and end of the concert, enabling us to trace change in wellbeing across the event, and the audience would record their emotional responses to the music at the end of each half on the questionnaire.  The umbrellas were designed by UCL as part of their UCL Museum Wellbeing Measures Toolkit. I designed the questionnaire myself and it asked respondees to tick the emotions they felt during each piece of the performance (or add their own) and respond free-form to the question of whether the venue had impacted their experience of the music. In the first half, the audience would know nothing about the music being played; their responses would be shaped only by the performance, the space, and any prior knowledge they might have. In the second half, they’d be introduced to the concept of the history of the emotions and its relationship with music by researcher Dr Marie Herzfeld Schild. Dr Herzfeld Schild would also tell the audience about the music they had already heard and what they would hear in the second half.

UCL's positive wellbeing umbrella

UCL’s positive wellbeing umbrella

The back of the umbrella

The back of the umbrella

After setting up I was treated to a personal tour of some of the museum’s specimens by Steve Moore, who oversees the museum’s pathology collections. I’d recommend a visit to the foreign objects found in human bodies case which includes a rocket removed from a man’s anus while potentially still live, hair pins, a toothbrush and a stone. I also saw trepanned skulls and tumours. One audience member apologized to me because her wellbeing umbrellas might imply she left with feeling less well than when she arrived but she assured me that this just reflected the extremely high levels of enthusiasm, excitement, and alertness (measured by the umbrellas) that she felt when she explored the museum before the concert started, rather than the concert having had a negative impact!

So what did the other participants say? Find out in our next post…

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New Publications, July – September 2016

A round-up of publications on the history of emotions from July to September 2016.

If you would like your publication to be featured in the next quarterly round-up, please send the details (including a link to more information or the full article) to emotions@qmul.ac.uk by 2 January 2017.

An additional list of publications is also published monthly on H-emotions: https://networks.h-net.org/categories/new-publications

BOOKS.

EDITED BOOKS.

BOOK CHAPTERS.

shakespeareSPECIAL ISSUES OF JOURNALS.

JOURNAL ARTICLES.

PhD THESES

Carnival of Lost Emotions at Boundary Estate Fun Palace

On Saturday 1 October 2016 the Centre for the History of the Emotions’ ‘Carnival of Lost Emotions’ made an appearance at the Boundary Estate Fun Palace. Fun Palaces take place across the country on 1 October each year, with free, innovative, transformative and engaging events for the local community. The Boundary Estate in Shoreditch is the oldest council estate in the UK, designed in 1892.

The Carnival featured two of our most popular activities – the Lost Emotions Machine and Emotional Body Portraits. Talking attendees through the lost emotions were the Ringmaster, an army officer, scientist, monk and Renaissance physician. We spoke to at least 60 adults and children over the course of the day about emotions we no longer experience. Some children even learnt the emotions and started telling new participants about accedia or incubus without the facilitation of the team!

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Emotional Body Portraits, the idea for which came from artist Liz Atkin, was a very popular drop-in activity. Each child lay down on a big piece of paper and we drew around them. We then asked them to decorate their outline to show not how they looked on the outside but how they felt on the inside. Most children said they felt happy and showed this in a variety of ways. In the photo below, rainbow colours were used to express happiness.

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For another child, pink paint stood for ‘soulful[ness]’ and red for their strength. Yellow was used to show happiness. And this child unusually drew round their feet – rather than the head and torso – because that was where their strength came from (below).

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At least thirty children drew emotional body portraits and talked to us about the emotions they were feeling and how they might show these. And while many showed happiness, we ran the full gamut of emotion. This portrait shows confusion:

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One child felt tired ‘so I’ve done my head in grey’. ‘Heavy shoulders’ were coloured in with black pencil alongside a red heart – to show the energy to and desire for a rejuvenating run around outside. The desire to play the piano was represented by black fingers. Here we move into the region of emotions that we feel but might not have a language for. So in future, we’ll be using pictures as well as words to convey emotion!

The Hopes and Fears of Being Human

The programme for the AHRC Being Human Festival of the Humanities launches today, and Queen Mary Centre for the History of Emotions have two events in this year’s programme. As a taster for a series of posts planned for Normativity November, we’re pleased to release additional details of our two public events.

digital-launch-sharing-graphic2Emotions and Cancer Diagnoses
Tuesday 22 November, 6 – 8pm
Booking and venue details: https://emotionscancer.eventbrite.co.uk

The emotional impacts of a cancer diagnosis can be many and varied, from fear to hope and beyond. In this special event for the Being Human Festival of Humanities, we explore patient experiences of cancer, past and present. In this evening talk, Elizabeth Toon (University of Manchester), will outline her research into the efforts of practitioners to understand their patients’ emotions about mastectomy in twentieth-century Britain, while Sue Ziebland (Health Experiences Research Group, University of Oxford) will explore contemporary use of Healthtalk.org by patients and their families.

The Museum of the Normal
Thursday 24 November, 6 – 9pm
Booking and venue details: http://beinghumanfestival.org/event/the-museum-of-the-normal/

From angst-ridden teenage letters to agony aunts to concerned posts in online parenting forums, it’s clear that as a society we are haunted by a fear of being labelled abnormal. But who gets to define what’s normal? It is really something to aspire to? And is worrying about ‘being normal’… normal? Or does it have a history all of its own?

Before the early nineteenth century, the word ‘normal’ was a mathematical term, to mean a right angle and, with the advent of statistics, the average of a population. In 1835, Belgian social scientist Adolphe Quetelet introduced the idea of the ‘normal distribution’, which later became applied to the study of man. Scientists increasingly suggested that many human traits followed a statistical Gaussian curve, with the bulk of the population situated within a centre block showing minimal deviation from each other. Smaller populations existed as outliers at either end.

As this distribution was increasingly used to explain disparate human concerns, the very meaning of the word ‘normal’ changed, from an apparently neutral mathematical term to something that was considered desirable. To be healthy was to be normal; not to be normal was to be pathological, diseased or somehow ‘not right’.

At this drop-in late event at Barts Pathology Museum, led by the Queen Mary Centre for the History of the Emotions, visitors will enter the ‘land of the abnormal’: a pop-up world of games, activities, talks and performances addressing different aspects of the history of normalcy and the normative. Expect lost emotions, historical psychometric tests, themed refreshments, arts activities, history of medicine talks and tours of the pathology specimens.

This event is supported by the AHRC and Queen Mary Centre for Public Engagement.

‘What is Emotional Health?’ workshop summary

helen-stark_0This is a post by Helen Stark. Helen is a Project Manager in the Centre for the History of the Emotions.

 

 

 


The ‘What is Emotional Health?’ workshop ran on the afternoon of July 4 and brought together the Living with Feeling project team with named collaborators on the grant, plus new contacts made in the previous eight months. There were twenty-three attendees, comprising scholars, consultants, journalists, healthcare professionals and incoming PhD students.

The aims of the event were:

  • To generate positive relationships between the Living With Feeling core team and named and potential collaborators at the outset of the LWF project
  • To initiate discussions about the best way of connecting the LWF themes with contemporary science, medical practice, phenomenology, and public policy
  • To map out opportunities for specific partnerships and projects across the 5-year grant within each strand

In the first session, participants described their interest in emotional health and offered three words that they associated with the concept. Connections were immediately forged: between PhD students and professors, Humanities and STEM, and stakeholders from HEI and non-HEI. We recorded these words on big sheets of paper and stuck them to the walls of the venue to provoke conversation throughout the afternoon – although, as one delegate pointed out, we should have offered a more structured opportunity to unpack these choices of words. There was some repetition but also some divergence, especially across disciplines, and, on table four, a real positive move with words like ‘joy’, ‘spontaneity’, ‘laughter’ and ‘movement’ being flagged.

Words describing emotional health

Words describing emotional health

The second session gave four members of the Living with Feeling team the opportunity to discuss their research projects with their collaborators in small groups: Thomas Dixon on anger, Tiffany Watt Smith on copying and imitation, Jules Evans on ecstasy and Sarah Chaney on public engagement.

In the third session some of the project collaborators introduced their work to participants. Sam Guglani (Gloucestershire Hospitals and Medicine Unboxed) discussed compassion and the patient-doctor relationship in the wake of mid-Staffs. Deborah Swinglehurst (QMUL) and Annalisa Manca (University of Dundee) sought feedback on a project which seeks to explore how patients (especially patients who are also doctors) represent their experiences of diagnosis in blogs. Stefan Priebe (QMUL) discussed social psychiatry and how emotions are produced in dialogue and situationally. Sue Ziebland (HERG, Oxford) described the interviews conducted by HERG of individuals with particular conditions. More information and excerpts are available on their website.

Where Next?

The following ideas were put forward by participants as a starting point for future collaborations.

  • One much repeated idea was for smaller, more focused workshops – thematically arising out of the connections made during this workshop.
  • One proposal was for an equivalent of ‘death cafes’: an opportunity for people to meet and discuss LWF in pubs, cafes etc. perhaps at the local hospice St Joseph’s Hackney.
  • A Medicine Unboxed event on the emotions of the medical encounter.
  • A retreat (48-72h) focussed on specific questions
  • Roundtables and presentation of work in progress by team members
  • Workshops on more practical aspects of collaboration
  • Unstructured discussions run by non-physicians about emotional experiences of healthcare encounters – no end goal but instead value from the discussion itself with regards to emotional intelligence.

Watch this space!