Links to the other posts in the ‘On periodisation’ series:
- What’s the best way to chop history into bits?
- Religion, early modernity, and ‘The Reformation’
- Two ‘early modern’ Englands?
- Unaswerable questions, questionable answers
- Histories of London, 1640s to 1660s: Continuities and Turning Points
- Against the Long Eighteenth Century
As Laura outlined in the previous post of this ‘monster series on periodisation, the term ‘early modern’ has – since the 1970s, at least in the history departments of UK universities – come to be seen as one of the ‘holy trinity’ of historical periods: the medieval, the early modern, the modern. But why?
There a number of reasons why its widespread acceptance and use could be considered somewhat surprising. Its current prevalence in publication and job titles – and on this blog, which self-identifies as an ‘early modern history’ blog – is remarkable given that it is a relative newcomer to the periodisation party. And as Laura has already highlighted, there is little agreement on when exactly it was (1500-1700 is, of course, the right answer…)
But to me the main reason why its rise to near canonical status seems a little odd is because of what it implies: that the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries are best understood as being on their way to somewhere else, or as a sub-period of modernity, rather than being a distinct historical period in their own right. But these kinds of ‘modernisation narratives’ – viewing the past as if the only story is the triumphant and inevitable march of all things towards the shiny here and now (more pessimistic forms of historical determinism are, of course, available) – were heavily criticised and fell into decline among historians at more-or-less the same time that the term ‘early modern’, with all its ‘modernisation narrative’ implications, was enjoying its assent. Very odd.
Indeed, since the 1970s one of the most significant developments in historical approaches to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries has been a desire to excavate the beliefs, culture and actions of contemporaries and to understand them ‘on their own terms’ – in the process often emphasising just how different and distinct, rather than similar and vaguely modern, the period was. Is ‘early modern’ really the best term for capturing this singularity? Perhaps not, but the term was and is widely deployed by cultural historians nonetheless. In fact, Keith Thomas, Natalie Zemon Davis and Peter Burke can all be counted among the pioneers of both cultural history and the term ‘early modern’.
Another related criticism of the term is that if we want to do justice to the way contemporaries understood their own world, shouldn’t we at least use a descriptor for it that would have been recognisable to them? (A debate we have had here on this blog in relation to the terms we use to describe the subjects of ‘history from below’). Labelling them as early versions of ourselves may not be the best way to do justice to how they understood themselves in time. That said, ‘early modern’ historian Phil Withington has recently argued that sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Englishmen did to some extent think of themselves as ‘modern’, and as witnesses to the dawn of a new age that made a distinct break with the immediate past – albeit one that looked back to the insights of the ancient world for inspiration, rather than eagerly anticipating the development of the smartphone. It is possible, then, that some contemporaries would have recognised and approved of the suggestion that they were living in a new ‘early modern’ era of history. Or at least some literate, male, educated, urban elites would have done so.
And therein lies a problem. Any attempt at finding a suitable term for describing a specific historical period will almost always fit in some ways but not in others: ‘early modern’ might have struck a chord with sixteenth-century English humanists, but I doubt it would have meant much to the agricultural labourer and his ale-selling wife. This applies even if we remove the requirement to use a term that might have resonated with contemporaries, and just aim for something that accurately characterises the period from our own point of view: ‘early modern’ might actually be quite an apt description of the emerging agrarian capitalism and the nascent commercial market in intoxicants, two processes that were distinctive features of this period and would very much have been felt in the lives of our alewife and labourer. But ‘early modern’ might serve less well as a way of characterising the belief in witches, ghosts and fairies that would have been shared by our humanists and rural workers alike.
In other words, I think it’s a bit of a fool’s errand to try and defend our use of the term ‘early modern’ as an apt universal descriptor of this period of history (and that’s only focusing on its applicability to England, 1500-1700), let alone one that contemporaries would have given the nod to. But my title promises a defence of ‘early modern’, so there is one coming. The obvious argument would be to emphasise the practical necessities – it’s a useful short-hand already widely in use, these are never perfect, and so on – and the importance of practicalities should not be overlooked. In fact I’m sure they account for the term’s ongoing use more than any particular intellectual attachment to it does.
But I also think it is useful as a way of describing the way historians approach this period. If we think of ‘early modern history’ less as the history of a period that was characterised by an early stage of modernity, and more as a field of study driven by a certain set of questions, I think ‘early modern’ is a helpful way of referring to those questions. For it seems to me that the central question that still drives much of the historical research into this period – perhaps implicitly as often as explicitly – is how modern were the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries?
Take, for example, the recent periodical literature (i.e. journal articles) on the social and economic history of Britain and Ireland, 1500-1700, which I am currently responsible for reviewing – on an annual basis – for the Economic History Review (you can read my review of articles published in 2014 here, if you have access). In the process of reading through over 50 articles published during 2014 it became clear that the overwhelming majority were in some way concerned with questions about the extent to which the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries exhibited characteristics that are associated with modernity. How urbanised was Britain and Ireland in this period? To what extent did landowners exhibit and embrace ‘capitalist’ ways of thinking? Can we locate the emergence of the modern ‘state’ in these years? Was climate change presenting major challenges to sixteenth and seventeenth century societies? Did women play a significant economic role? How widespread was something we might call ‘consumer culture’ at this time? How widespread were the use of what we think of as industrial fuels such as coal in the seventeenth century? You get the idea.
One might argue that this is a peculiar feature of socio-economic history, with its focus on questions of long-term development, but I’d argue that the point could be extended to the types of cultural history that endeavour to treat the period ‘on its own terms’. In their own way they are concerned with questions of similarity and difference between the modern world and the one we study, even if their aim is generally to assert the essential differences. And that is a crucial point to make: the answers historians of this period give to the question of how modern it was vary considerably and depend very much on what they are looking at. It would be hard to say that the periodical literature I reviewed, taken together, offered a coherent overall response to this question, such is the range and complexity of conclusions reached across all of the issues I’ve outlined above.
The variety in the conclusions we reach about the modernity of our period is precisely what makes ‘early modern’ a dubious descriptor of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It is not our answer; it is our question.
Oh dear, I hear you cry, it looks like he might be heading towards the oldest trick in the terminology debate book: just add a question mark! It’s the ‘early modern? period’. Or maybe the ‘early modern periods‘.
In all seriousness though, I think ‘early modern’ does serve as a good descriptor of a field of history, and can be applied to (many) historians to indicate the approach that they take to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It makes our central research question explicit. And that’s what I like about it. All periodisations are imposed by historians on the past, and probably say more about us than our subjects. So why not take this as a starting point for how we divide up and describe the past?
Of course, whether they are the right research questions to be asking about the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries is a whole other debate in itself, but foregrounding our research questions in our attempts at periodisation can only help to encourage that debate.
I’ll be honest though, I haven’t spent much time thinking about how this principal works out in practice for other periods. It seems to me that ‘medieval’ and ‘modern’ are less obviously re-purposed as short hands for particular research questions, or sets of questions, and I’m not expecting you to all rush off and come up with new terms (though it might be fun to try). But perhaps at the very least it’s an idea that medievalists, early modernists, modernists (or any other denomination of historian) might find it interesting to discuss across the usual boundaries of periodisation…
 There has been some discussion ‘below the line’ and on twitter of when exactly the term ‘early modern’ became well established in UK academia. We will be pulling some of these contributions together in a later post, but for now I’ll just add another reference to a historian who argues that the 1970s were a seminal decade: Phil Withington, Society in Early Modern England (Polity, 2010), p.2.
 On the relationship between modernisation narratives and the ‘early modern’ see Garthine Walker’s chapter on ‘Modernisation’ in Garthine Walker (ed.), Writing Early Modern History (Hodder Arnold, 2005).
 Phil Withington, Society in Early Modern England (Polity, 2010).
Great post, Mark. A line of thought – I wonder if the raft of new universities established in the 1960s might have been, in some senses, the birthplaces of the ‘early modern’ as a concept. Thinking about Austin Woolrych heading off to Lancaster to establish the history department there, I recalled that he once wrote a chapter in 1970 on ‘Early Modern History’, in an edited collection of Harold Perkins’. I suspect that chapter might contain some very good clues about what shifted in the 1960s. At the very least, many of the universities established during that time have, for whatever reason, become particularly excellent in the early modern field – Kent,, Warwick, Essex, Lancaster, Newcastle.
Thanks for the lead John: I think you are right that the reasons behind the term’s rise at that time would reward further investigation. That might have to be a future post in the series…
I wonder about causation here: Is this a good period descriptor because it applies to the questions we’re asking, or are we asking these questions because the descriptor is influencing our approach to the period?
Nice question: the old chicken-and-egg. As I’ve just said above, I think we might need a post on the reasons behind the rise of the term in the 1970s to help unpick whether this set of questions came before or after the descriptor started to be widely used.
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What makes us think of the early modern as modern, in other words, or what did the early modern ever do for us non-early moderns? I think the most fruitful lines of enquiry do lie in the economic sphere: the rise of money and global connections; the emergence of a western European demographic model; the triumph of commercial arrangements in place of medieval custom. Much of that can of course be traced back to the “late medieval” 14th and 15th centuries and beyond, but it’s after c.1500 that the “new” becomes the established way of doing things.
But was it modern? The destruction of 50,000 lives across Europe in the witch panic of 1550-1650 is often invoked as a warning against viewing the “earlies” as “us”, though this century and the one before should remind us that societies can experience periods of regression amid broader development. I would argue that the episode was emphatically modern, rooted in the erosion of traditional religious authority (which generally had little time for such nonsense) and the absence as yet of a more materially- or rationally-based system of thought (however incomplete) to put in its place. Our own time shows we’ve yet to conquer our inner demons: how modern are we?
Other aspects show a similar inconstancy across the period: it’s notable that we tend to think of the emergence of the modern state and the “scientific revolution” in terms of the 17th century, less so of the 16th (though the Dutch had made a start at least in their state-building in the earlier time). Urbanisation too is a less uniformly rewarding indicator than might be supposed: while the proportion in towns grew at an accelerating rate over the centuries, the aggregate increase in the 17th was less than in the 16th, reflecting plague, war and associated wider demographic doldrums along with the slowing of silver receipts which had oiled the wheels of expanding commerce, though the divergence between the two indices reflects in part the continued shift from older to newer (and initially less populous) urbanising regions. The century from 1620/50 is in some respects a relaxation of the tempo, in others a period of fresh advance: at least we generally stopped hunting witches.
Is it modern? Yes, I’d say it is, at least in the west. Gone were the old assumptions of a immutable divinely-ordained social order, even as its beneficiaries sought to turn the clock back. Again, antecedents can be seen in the “late medieval crisis” of the previous two centuries, and much may be said for viewing the 14th-18th centuries in combination as an extended period of transition. But “early modern” is as valid a label as any for the period after c.1500, even if I’d extend it to 1800.
Pekka Malmbergin 020841 kommentit
Mark Hailwood kysyy, miksi käytetään nimitystä “varhainen moderni”? Olen työssäni, joka jakaantui kahteen eri lohkoon tai osaan eli yritysten kehittämishankkeisiin ja niistä informointiin, oppinut, että onnistunut kehittämistyö tai onnistunut muutos tarvitsee tuekseen ihmisten positiivisen asenteen. Jos tätä ei synny, kehittämishanke epäonnistuu.
Jos ajattelemme tutkijoiden hyväksymää “varhaisen modernin” ajallista alkupistettä noin v. 1500, niin muutokset Euroopassa saavat tuekseen renessanssin aikaansaaman henkisen ja asenteellisen kehityksen. Molemmat muutosprosessit vapauttivat ihmisten ajatuksia ja asenteita. Paavin vallan nujertaminen reformaatiossa ja kaavoihin kangistuneen taiteen vapauttaminen loivat pohjaa yksilön vapauden laajenemiselle ja eliitin vallan pienenemiselle seuraavilla vuosisadoilla kohti modernia maailmaa. Näistä syistä voidaan mielestäni hyvinkin kutsua n. vuonna 1500 alkanutta muutoksen aikaa “varhaiseksi moderniksi”.
Kun muutos alkaa muotoutua selväksi toiminnaksi ja ihmiset kokevat sen vaikuttavan selvästi omaan elämäänsä positiivisesti, on ymmärrettävää, että he myös tuntevat olevansa omalla tavallaan mukana muutosprosessissa. Esimerkiksi lukemaan oppiminen on yksilölle vallankumous.
Kirjapainotaito ja uskonpuhdistus levittivät muutoksen sanomaa, kun reformaation kokeneissa maissa jumalanpalvelukset toteutettiin kansan omalla kielellä ja niissä informoitiin ihmisiä arkisissa asioissa; kerrottiin laeista, veroista, sodista sekä viljelysmenetelmistä. Pitkä ja hidas asenteiden muuttaminen loi maaperää eliitin ja kuninkaan yksinvallan murtumiselle, mikä tapahtui esim. Englannissa ja Ruotsi/Suomessa lähes samaan aikaan. Tämä vaikutti kansalaisten asenteisiin myönteisesti tarvittavia muutoksia kohtaan.
Hailwood tuo esiin arkisia ongelmia ja kysyy esimerkiksi, keskusteltiinko 1500 – 1700- luvuilla ilmaston muutoksesta. Suomessa kuoli nälkään kylminä vuosina 1695 – 1698 noin kolmannes väestöstä. Vastaus on “kyllä keskusteltiin”. Minusta tämä on vähän ala-arvoista tutkimusta, jossa aiheita ja sisältöä haetaan nykyaikaisen otsikkojournalismin toimintatavasta. Itsenäiset talonpojat keskittyivät varmasti vakaviin elämisen ongelmiin, joita pitäisi tarkastella kunkin ajan ehdoilla. Heitä ei kiinnostanut “maatalouskapitalismi”.
Varhaisen modernin ajan rajoittaminen vain ajalle 1550 -1700 on vähän kummallinen. Jack Goldstone osoittaa selvästi, että tähän ajanjaksoon kuuluu myös teollisen vallankumouksen alku hiilenkäytöstä höyrykoneen, höyrylaivan ja höyryveturin käyttöön. Nämä loivat pohjan kokonaan uudelle maailmalle, kun syntyi massiivinen teollisuus, jonka luomalla varallisuudella pystyttiin myöhemmin rakentamaan mm. koululaitos, paremmat elinolosuhteet ja sosiaaliset palvelut. Näistä syistä “varhainen moderni” ajanjakso on syytä ulottaa 1800-luvun puoliväliin asti.