I can see through time
- Lisa Simpson, The Simpsons S05E13
As a historian, I am trained to divide history into periods, and I am also
trained to deconstruct such periods and critique them. Periodisation is a tool
for making sense of large amounts of information, and sorting various
narratives and various blocks of information into more comprehensible units.
But such tools as periodisation can easily become weapons, which is why so much
of the historian’s task is taken up by explaining why terms such as “the Middle
Ages”, “Antiquity”, “pre-modern” and “the Enlightenment” are deeply problematic
and can be used to promoted racist, nationalist, supremacist agendas. Periodisation
can, in such instances, become a cultural force in that it helps create
sensations of history moving towards predestined or inherently natural endpoints,
which can be used to interpret any major event in history. Such teleological
views of history can function as rallying points for groups or organisations,
and they also serve to establish an idea of any given group being at the centre
of history, whereas all other groups are merely extras or collateral. However,
periodisation is not the only understanding of history that can have an impact
on how societies and groups approach the past. Another such understanding is
what we can call “achronology”, and in this blogpost and the next I will explore
some aspects of the achronological view of the past, and what how that view can
shape current events.
Achronology is in a way the opposite of periodisation, because while
periodisation rigidly – often too rigidly – divide the past into temporally sequenced
blocks, achronology undoes that sequence and puts every part of history into the
same block. Since every part of history inhabits the same block, achronology
opens up for encounters between historical individuals, phenomena, concepts or objects
that could not possibly encounter one another. In this way, achronology is also
different from anachronism. Anachronism means that something is in the wrong
time period, and we typically see this in works of historical fiction, be it in
novels, comics, films, etc. One of my favourite examples is when the eponymous
protagonist of the comic strip series Prince Valiant meets Marino, the
founder of the independent country San Marino, while also fighting the Huns of
Attila. According to legend, Marino operated around 301, while Attila ruled the
Huns from the 440s until his death in 455. There is, in other words, no way
that Prince Valiant could have encountered both Marino and Attila. What makes
Prince Valiant’s impossible encounters anachronistic rather than a case of
creative achronology is that the adventures of Prince Valiant are firmly set in
the fifth century. Consequently, when later concepts such as crusading ideology
or later phenomena such as the Viking raids are brought into Prince Valiant’s
world, the boundaries of time are broken and anachronisms are being committed.
In achronology, on the other hand, such boundaries cannot be broken because they
do not exist in the first place. While periodisation and anachronism predicate
chronological differences, achronology obliterates those differences and puts
everything into a temporal here-and-now. This also means that time travel
stories are not achronological, because such stories depend on the ability to
traverse those temporal divides that achronology refuses to acknowledge.
Like creative anachronism, achronology is also a concept commonly employed in
entertainment. Neil Gaiman’s novel Neverwhere, for instance, takes place
in a London Below that effectively comprises all elements of London’s history
in one and the same time-space. The events in Neverwhere are located in
a fixed time period, the here-and-now, but that time period encompasses all
other periods and can therefore not be considered a case of anachronism. Similarly,
Robert Holdstock’s novel Mythago Wood employs achronology by constructing
a complex woodland that contains within it corporeal manifestations of the myths
of all peoples and cultures that have lived in that part of Britain since the Ice
Age. While the novel does operate with the concept of chronological divides,
and while this wood is sectioned according to a chronological scheme, those
that enter the wood are not subject to the constraints of that chronology.
Consequently, Robin Hood, Cú Chulainn and Saxon immigrants all inhabit the same
here-and-now.
Achronology is a very fruitful creative tool, just like anachronism, and can be
used to very entertaining and also educational ends. I am myself very much in
favour of achronology when used in such positive creative ways. But like everything
in culture, achronology can also be used as a cultural force, namely something
that shapes the culture that receives it. When I call achronology a cultural
force I mean this: that the erasure of temporal divides can convey an
understanding of the past as a single, unified block whose main defining
feature is that it isn’t now, and this understanding can in turn shape how
people go about in shaping the present and the future. How achronology impacts
contemporary culture depends on where it is received, when it is received, and by
whom it is received.
In some cases, the impact of achronology can take the form of constructing
folk-spirits where one feature of a people’s past becomes the defining essence of
that people. This essence can then be imagined as a constant to be found in all
of the past. Such an idea can lead in two main directions, both of which are
sinister and deeply problematic. One direction is to see this spirit or essence
is still with us, and that can be used to set a people apart from others and to
insist on their primacy in world events, where all of the amorphous, unified
past serves as a heavy legitimising weight behind such a claim. The second
direction is to fuel fantasies of degradation, where this essence now is lost
and must be recovered, which in turn is a way of alienating everyone that does
not have a claim to this essence. In Norway, invocations of the Viking spirit –
which appears from time to time – is a form of this achronological thinking.
It is important to emphasise that what I have drawn up here is a scheme of the
impact of achronology in its purest form. It is a model of an intellectual
construct, and such models rarely map perfectly onto reality. There are very
few cases – if any – of pure achronology at work in the cultural discourse, at
least when that achronology is not employed for creative ends. But there are
elements of achronological thinking at work in society, and these erase or
hinder a nuanced understanding of chronological progress. Such achronological
thinking might not completely remove any understanding of the past as divided
into periods, but the length of those periods and the connection between those
periods are obscured, and this obscurity simplifies the past. It is in this
simplification that achronology strikes most forcefully.
While periodisation has its problems, it does help us to comprehend how
incrementally history is meted out, and how much human activity and how many
human lives go into a year, a decade, or a century. In other words, history is
a long process where things can chronologically progress slowly or quickly depending
on various factors. (I here use progress not in the qualitative, teleological sense,
but just as a way of describing the passing of time from one year to the next.)
It is this understanding of history as a complex chain of temporalities that
contain numerous known and unknown lives and deeds that prevent us from seeing
the past as something simple. Achronology, however, works to simplify the past
by erasing or obscuring the temporal divides. One of the most dangerous
consequences of that erasure is that people who lose or are prevented from
accessing the complex understanding of history are more likely to be receptive
to conspiracy theories that stretch back into the very distant past. Ideas
about sinister global cabals – typically launched against Jews and still employed
in contemporary anti-Semitic discourse to devastating effects – depend on a
kind of achronology in which it is possible to maintain large-scale secret society
that can pass down its work through generations. Because achronology facilitates
a thinking about the past as a single block, it is easier to accept the ludicrous
idea that such societies have been in operation across centuries.
A similar version of such achronological thinking was launched in Norway a few
years back, when a freemason suggested that the Freemasons had roots in the
Vikings, and as evidence he used a figurine from a third-century burial mound
that sported a cloth that the freemason interpreted as the apron that is part
of Freemason insignia. What we see here is that the Viking Age – a purely
historiographical construct – was extended back in time to the third century, connected
to the mythical history of the Freemasons. Because Freemason mythology claims to
have roots in the period of the reign of King Solomon, the Norwegian freemason
effectively latched his extended Viking period onto the more extensive
Freemason period, and managed to connect three dots – the reign of King
Solomon, the Viking Age, and eighteenth century – into a unified history. While
this kind of historical fantasy does operate with temporal divides, these
divides are both closer to one another and more permeable than in reality, and
this provides fertile ground for fantasies of continuity, whether those fantasies
are used for embellishing one’s institutional identity or fomenting
anti-Semitic hatred.
There are numerous other examples of how achronology works as a cultural force,
and this preliminary sketch is just a first attempt to put the fundamental idea
into writing. I will emphasise that I don’t disapprove of creative anachronism,
I relish it when it is done well, and I also do not think that achronological
thinking exist in its purest form. But my point here is by simplifying the past
and the slow chronological progress of that past, we can become receptive to fantasies
that impact how we view or current time, and how we engage politically in the
current time. Belief in the possibility of secret societies sustained across centuries
or millennia, or belief in folk-spirits that remain unchanged across centuries
or millennia, are both very dangerous because such belief makes the believer
receptive to propaganda, manipulation and political programmes designed to
alienate or ostracise individuals or entire peoples. Achronology plays a part
in the willingness some people have to accept simplistic or conspiracy theory-oriented
explanations of the past. And while there also are other factors at play, such
as national mythologies or economic pressures, the misunderstanding of the past
according to principles of achronology is one of the important factors to facilitate
the weaponisation of the past to abuse people in the present.
In my next blogpost, part 2, I will focus on one specific case which can be
said to be fuelled by achronology.
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On Englands pleasant pastures seen!
- And did those feet, William Blake
On Englands pleasant pastures seen!
- And did those feet, William Blake
søndag 25. september 2022
Achronology as a cultural force, part 1
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