A plea for critical thinking humans in our world of extremes

Laura Sangha

A companion piece to: What is history for? Or: Doing history/thinking historically

The train to Totnes this weekend was full of late holiday makers heading for Cornwall. They were gratifyingly impressed by one of the greatest rail journeys in England – the swoop down the Exe estuary coast where, if you are seated on the correct side of the train, there is nothing between you and the rippling water, scattered with gulls, oyster catchers, cormorants and mudlarks.

A photo taken from the bridge over the railway tracks at Starcross train station in Devon. The platform is to the left, immediately next to it is an expanse of exposed mud, with the Exe following beyond it. It's a grey day, boats can be seen on the river.
The view from Starcross train station on the Exe Estuary.

I was rather sadder to overhear the conversation as it turned to the climate crisis. Observing the rolling Devon hills, the shallow rooted grass now returned to a lush green after a couple of weeks of regular rain showers, one traveller compared it to their London experience. ‘I suppose it wasn’t as hot down here this summer’. The other, from Kent, agreed, adding ‘I expect it will be just like 1976. After that was all over things just returned to normal again very quickly’. The companion agreed wholeheartedly and conversation then moved on to the drought resistant planting that both travellers were beginning in their parched dust bowl gardens.

At first I was taken aback to again hear repeated the line about 1976. Although it was an idea that bounced around a lot during the first and second heatwaves, I felt that the persistent, life threatening heat that followed had rather snuffed it out. No doubt my own personal media bubble was to blame. But it soon got me thinking more generally about public or popular discourse, where ideas like ‘1976’ come from, and why they persist. Why can’t people see that this take on the exceptional, extra-ordinary weather we endured in England this summer is spectacularly wrong?

Of course, there are too many reasons to examine them all here, so I wish to focus on just one: a lack of critical thinking, and a particular subset of that, a failure to consider evidence. People are spectacularly wrong because they don’t have tools which allow them to weigh up an interpretation or an argument, to examine the evidence it is based on, to see it in a broader context, or to consider other interpretations and to compare and contrast them to conclude which is most persuasive.

Yes, that’s right (surprise!) I want to talk about the methods of historical study.

My job as a historian requires that I am an expert critical thinker. It is also my chief responsibility to my students to teach them how to become critical thinkers. Because I have been steeped in this way of interacting with the world since embarking on my undergraduate degree (mumble) decades ago, it’s too easy to forget that for many people it is just not something that they have been schooled in. Or if they were, it was too long ago to remember, or they weren’t listening, or they were absent that day. Or they went on to study a subject that didn’t value or prioritise it.

But in an increasingly unstable global context, a lack of critical thinking allows misinformation and lies to proliferate, even in the face of overwhelming evidence that something is a lie, that it is untrue, that it is not right. It is not right that 2026 was just the same thing as 1976, and critical thinking can prove it.

Two graphs which show the mean UK summer temperatures in 1976 and 2026. The mean temperatures were persistently higher in 2026. The graphs are from Met Office
Graphs from the Met Office article.

First, to the evidence itself. Anyone can google ‘1976 compared with 2026’ and find links to a range of articles comparing the weather conditions of the two. But you need to apply some critical thinking about the context of these articles to work out which of them is likely to contain evidence you can trust.  

All this means is asking some fundamental questions. Who wrote this? What are they saying? Why did they write it – what point are they trying to make? Who are they writing for, what’s their audience, what are they trying to persuade them of and why? What is their evidence for what they have written? Where did it come from? What are the problems and gaps in it? Who has a vested interest in what they are saying?

Might this person have a reason to exaggerate, to leave out some facts, or to tell a particular story? Is it likely that this person is misrepresenting the evidence to further their own ends?

Let’s apply these critical questions to our google list of articles about 1976.

Should I trust the Reddit thread ‘2026 is the new ’76. I will not be taking questions’? Well no – I don’t know who wrote this. I know that the social news website Reddit is full of amateur and expert opinion but how can I tell the difference from the info provided there? Just because millions of people voted a thread up, it doesn’t make it right.

How about this Reuters article then. A trusted news source, so that gives me more confidence. But the article is from July, so it can’t give me a full picture of the conditions across the summer.

What about a Mirror article from mid-August then? Again, it’s not what I am looking for. Tabloid and broadsheet content is always likely to provide an interpretation that will resonate with its presumed audience or advertisers, it follows an editorial line, and it will likely lack the detailed scientific evidence I am looking for.

Ah ha, further down the results page is a Met Office article from 4 September. That’s the ticket – the Met are a professional, trusted institution with their own archive of data. Click.

And there is the evidence, all the statistics from both years, neatly summed up in the first paragraph: ‘summer 2026 has rewritten the record books, becoming the UK’s warmest summer on record for mean, maximum and minimum temperatures, while also recording more tropical nights than 1976.’

A table showing various statistics relating to the weather in 1976 and 2026. Generally the temperature stats are slightly higher for 2026. It is also notable that 1976 had 22 days above 30 degrees, 2026 had 33 days above 30 degrees.
A table from the Met Office article

Since 1976 is just my case study I won’t go into lots of detail, but a critical thinker would immediately be able to identify the key points supporting the Met article argument ‘Summer 2026 has not only rivalled 1976 but exceeded it in several ways.’ The section that my fellow train travellers need to read is ‘Similar impacts, different climate’.

Just a little more digging might bring our reader to the open access online evidence of scientists who monitor climatic conditions, such as the Climate Lab Book on Substack. Importantly the site includes information about the author and his credentials, giving us confidence in his knowledge: it is by Ed Hawkins, a climate scientist at the University of Reading, an MBE recipient who invented the ‘climate stripes’. There you can see some quite terrifying graphic evidence of the differences:

Two graphics from the Climate Lab article showing an outline map focused on the UK and France. They are coloured to represent the temperature difference from average in the summers of 1976 and 2026. There is a lot more blue on the 1976 map (cooler) and a lot more dark red on the 2026 map (hot).
Graphics from Ed Hawkins’ Climate Lab Book.

(of course the critical thinker in me also notes that using a different colour scheme would make this graphic look very different …)

Returning to our train travellers, had they dug a little deeper they would now be able to test their hypothesis against the evidence:

‘I suppose it wasn’t as hot down here this summer’ – actually the evidence shows it was very hot throughout all of the south and midlands, not just in the south east. And since the threshold for a heatwave in the southwest is 25 degrees, it too experienced heatwave conditions throughout all the summer months.

‘I expect it will be just like 1976. After that was all over things just returned to normal again very quickly’ – actually the evidence shows that ‘while extremes have happened in the past, our warmer climate is making them even more extreme’. ‘The summer of 1976 remains one of the UK’s most iconic heatwaves, but it also provides a benchmark for understanding how extreme heat may evolve in a warming climate.’

Screenshot from the Met article. Text reads 'The season's mean temperature was made around 130 times more likely due to human-induced climate change'.

Critical thinking has revealed that anecdotal evidence (this is just like what I experienced in 1976) is weak because it may not be representative, and it won’t reveal the full picture. It can also show the illogical reasoning at the heart things. This is just an extraordinary year like in 1976 / in future I need to plant in anticipation of drought conditions becoming the norm – these are contradictory positions. The thinker’s ideas and interpretation is at odds with their behaviour, logic show that their ideas are out of step with the reality experienced around them.

This case study is an example of why the rigorous, original, critical thinking fostered by the humanities must go hand in hand with the methods of scientists and engineers. For there are many many reasons for rich and powerful people to misrepresent evidence of all kinds. The world as it is now has made them rich and powerful, so naturally they want to keep it that way. Scientific data might shows us the dangers of failing to change our world, but that data is useless unless people see it, are convinced by it, and want to act in light of it. Arts, humanities and social sciences can ensure that people have the critical ability to see it, perceive it, and be persuaded by it.

Tl;dr: Save Arts and Humanities

Reflecting on Imtiaz Habib’s ‘Black Lives in the English Archives’: A Bibliography

Rebecca Adusei and Jamie Gemmell

Imtiaz Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives was situated within the longstanding and growing fields of early modern Black British History and Premodern Critical Race Studies (PCRS). To conclude our series, we provide a non-definitive bibliography of some key texts for readers interested in pursuing these subjects further.

Adi, Hakim (ed.). Black British History: New Perspectives. London: Zed Books, 2019.

Adi, Hakim. African and Caribbean People in Britain: A History. London: Penguin, 2022.

Akhimie, Patricia. Shakespeare and the Cultivation of Difference London and New York: Routledge, 2018.

Amussen, Susan Dwyer. Caribbean Exchanges: Slavery and the Transformation of English Society, 1640-1700. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2009.

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Reflecting on Imtiaz Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives: Introduction

Rebecca Adusei and Jamie Gemmell

Imtiaz Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives, 1500-1677: Imprints of the Invisible (Routledge, 2008) is one text within the relatively small, but longstanding, field of early modern Black British History. Neither a cultural history of early modern racialisation nor a social history of Black Britons, the text is a kind of analytical cataloguing that seeks to locate a “missing subject” through the literal construction of an archive and an accompanying commentary. It manages to be both empirically rigorous – Habib located 448 “Black citations” – and theoretically rich. It provides a roadmap and a grammar for the social historian to think carefully about early modern England’s Black inhabitants and the archives that render those lives (il)legible.

Habib’s herculean effort in 2008 highlighted, and continues to highlight, the importance of adopting an interdisciplinary approach when looking at the lives of people of colour in early modern Britain. In its robust, rigorous, and in-depth analysis, Black Lives laid a solid foundation which Early Modern Studies continues to build on. Habib’s bridging of the gap between the historical and literary disciplines has enabled Early Modern Studies to create a holistic idea of what it was like to be a person of colour in the early modern period and to track the origins of racism.

Despite its weighty contributions, the text remains relatively neglected by social historians and, in some cases, actively dismissed. Our Symposium seeks to reflect on Habib’s Black Lives and firmly establish its importance to Early Modern Studies, particularly social history. This is especially important given the emergence of the “archive” as a heuristic within Black Feminist literature, Atlantic History, and Slavery Studies. While scholars have critically interrogated the colonial archives, less attention has been paid to the archives of the imperial metropole. Habib’s work is, therefore, an ideal way to integrate these archives and think relationally across different methodologies. We hope the reflections published here will demonstrate both the importance of Habib’s work and the vitality of scholarship thinking about early modern Britain’s Black inhabitants. Continue reading →

Reflecting on Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives: An Online Symposium

trumpeters-cropped

The many-headed monster is delighted to bring you a series of posts responding to Imtiaz Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives, 1500-1677: Imprints of the Invisible (Ashgate: 2008, Routledge: 2020). The posts are part of Rebecca Adusei and Jamie Gemmell’s multi-event symposium, which brings together scholars working at the forefront of early modern Black history and premodern race studies to discuss the vital importance and continuing legacy of Habib’s text.

Rebecca and Jamie will introduce the blog series on Thursday 4 May, and we will then publish two posts a week over the following month – links to all the posts will be added to this page as we go, so you can bookmark it now if you want to follow along.

Rebecca and Jamie celebrated the publication of the blog series on Friday 19 May, at the London Metropolitan Archives, to tie in with their ‘Unforgotten Lives’ exhibition. This exhibition presents the stories of Londoners of African, Caribbean, Asian and Indigenous heritage who lived and worked in the city between 1560 and 1860 and are recorded in London’s archives.

The Early Career Researcher Takeover

The #MonsterTakeover showcased the research of our postgraduate and early career researchers as we handed over control to our readers in the first half of 2021. This post handily provides links to all of the posts in case you missed it.

It is early 2021. Large parts of the globe are in lockdown to try to limit the ravages of the covid-19 pandemic. Conferences and Symposia are postponed and there is still a long road to travel back to ‘normal’. What better moment to give you an alternative way to encounter and engage with cutting edge research on the past, in a digestible format that can fit in around online teaching, caring duties, daily exercise and lying on the floor in a darkened room breathing deeply, etc?

Below you will find links to posts written by early career scholars (baggily defined as budding historians who do not have a permanent job), showcasing their research and airing views on academic life. We are closed to new submissions for now, but we’ll probably be back with another issue of the Monster ECR Takeover in the future!

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Historians, PhDs, and Jobs in 2023

Brodie Waddell

Amid yet another year of university strikes in the UK, the Higher Education Statistics Agency has released the latest data on staff and degrees granted. A couple of years ago, I used this data to try to get a sense of the job market for historians, so it seems like a good time to use the new figures to provide an update.

First, let’s take a look at what’s happening in the USA, where they are able to provide a more rigorous view of the job market because the American Historical Association tracks job advertisements and provides an annual report. In previous years, the AHA reports had been published with a Chart of Doom which showed the catastrophic collapse of job openings relative to degrees granted:

Advertised job openings and new history PhDs awarded

Advertised job openings and new history PhDs awarded: AHA Jobs Report 2021.

In their most recent report, from August 2022, they decided not to publish the Chart of Doom and instead have presented the information about job openings over a more short-term timescale, with more details about the types of jobs advertised. This is very useful information, though it does elide the massive drop in jobs that happened just before the chart starts in 2016-17. In the most recent year, 2021-22, they show ‘academic job listings did indeed rebound to levels above those seen immediately before the pandemic. This increase is not, however, a sign of renewed vitality but a partial return to the steady but dismal state of faculty job availability in the late 2010s.’ Continue reading →

Reflecting on Black Lives in the English Archives: A call for participants

  • October – December 2022: Online Reading Sessions
  • February 2023: In-person Workshop at King’s College London
  • April – May 2023: Symposium blog posts published on the many-headed monster

The many-headed monster team are happy to bring you advance notice of our forthcoming Online Symposium, which will grow out of a series of events convened by doctoral students Rebecca Adusei and Jamie Gemmell. We invite current or recent postgraduate students to join us in this collaborative reflection on Imtiaz Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives – read on for the call for participants and details of how to get involved, or visit the Online Symposium website for more.

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Blogging and the Day Job: Tales from the Blarchive

Jonathan Willis

In a series of recent posts marking the tenth anniversary of the many-headed monster, my co-bloggers have reflected on a number of themes. Mark has discussed the transition of the blog from what seemed (at the time at least) to be a series of topical yet ephemeral interventions into something more permanent: a blog archive or ‘blarchive’ if you will. I fear the term probably won’t enter the running for OED word of the year, and if I’m being completely honest it puts me in mind of early 1990s children’s TV presenter Timmy Mallett (if you were a UK child born in the ‘80s you’ll know what I mean, if not, don’t worry about it!). Laura then highlighted a series of posts relating to the recurring theme of the relationship between historical writing and fiction, and Brodie explored how another prominent series of posts reflect the turbulent history of the historical discipline itself in UKHE and beyond over the past decade.

Parochial – geddit??

This post feels a little more ‘parochial’ (good reformation pun, that) in comparison, because looking back at my contributions to the blog has really given me pause to reflect on what blogging has meant to me at different stages of my career over the past ten years. So in some way this is quite a personal – really rather self-indulgent – set of autobiographical musings, but I hope it is also an interesting dive back into older content on the ‘monster, as well as a potentially useful series of thoughts about what the process of blogging can look like at different times and in different contexts.

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Creativity and history: tales from the blarchive

Laura Sangha

This summer we are marking the ten-year anniversary of the many-headed monster blog with a collection of posts that highlight older material in our blog archive (or our ‘blarchive’, as Mark has christened it, to the great and growing pain of the other monster heads).

In my piece I want to pull at a thread that has run through our output over the years, that is, posts that sit on the fence between history and fiction.

Are you a fan of analogies, however laboured? Read on!

Of course, there isn’t really a fence betweenthese two spaces. Or at least, if there is, it was only erected recently, and in fact it’s pretty shoddy work, full of gaps and holes, plus one part of it blew down in a winter storm a few years back, while another is so deeply lost in the undergrowth it’s no longer effective, or even particularly visible. But anyway, let’s not get lost in the encroaching greenery trying to pinpoint the boundary, but rather, let’s consider the fruitful relationship between history and fiction by revisiting some of our related content.

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the many-headed monster is 10: looking back

When Brodie and Mark quietly announced the birth of the many-headed monster to the world in July 2012, little did they know how big their baby would grow or just how many readers and contributors the behemoth would ensnare. But it’s been quite a ride.

four photos of the monster heads when they were young
monster heads when they were young

It’s possibly obvious to our readers, but we have never had a strict editorial line, preferring the blog to develop organically and to lead us in whatever direction seems promising. We share a consensus that we want to reach broader audiences than journal articles and academic monographs can, and that the types of history that we discuss, the format, and particularly the tone of our writing is intended to be accessible and engaging for non-specialists, but beyond that, there aren’t really any rules. Indeed, until we four co-authors met late in 2021 to discuss how to mark our ten year anniversary we’d never had an editorial meeting, rather we very satisfactorily conducted matters via email, or a scatter of shared google docs for when we were feeling fancy.

This informal approach is perhaps one of our great strengths. For one thing, it keeps editorial and administrative duties to the barest minimum. Just as importantly, it has allowed us to develop ways of publishing content online that retains the quick blog post format, but which expand and adapt it for different purposes. At its simplest, this might mean breaking a longer post into more easily digestible chunks and posting each chunk individually across a week or a fortnight, as Mark did with his posts on the application of theory to the history of food and drink.

More distinctively, our ‘Monster Mini-Series’ quickly became a feature of our output. These are both finite and current/long-running collections of posts focused around a particular theme or topic. Laura’s posts on the history of the Tudor Southwest is an example of the former, and our co-authored series ‘On Periodisation’ of the latter.  

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