[Cross-posted at Airminded.]
Despite appearing in the Times Literary Supplement a month ago, Eric Naiman’s astounding exposure of independent historian A. D. Harvey’s fraudulent scholarship seems to have been little remarked upon by historians. (Naiman’s piece is quite long, but worth the read; for a much shorter version try here.) Admittedly, the true extent of Harvey’s transgressions, which includes fabricating primary sources and reviewing his own work under pseudonyms, is unclear; but as Naiman argues, from what we do know they are not the sort of thing the academy can let slide:
It is not only that the apparent practice of submitting articles under fictitious names to scholarly journals might well have a chilling effect on the ability of really existing independent scholars to place their work. Nor is it just the embarrassment caused to editors who might in an ideal world have taken more pains to check the contributions of Stephanie Harvey or Trevor McGovern, but who accepted them in good faith, partly out of a wish to make their publications as inclusive as possible. The worst thing here, if they are fictitious, is a violation of the trust that remains a constitutive element of the humanities. There is, it seems to me, a fundamental difference between posting partisan, anonymous reviews on Amazon, where there is no assumption of proper evaluative standards or impartiality, and placing similar reviews or hoaxing articles in academic journals, which are still the most hallowed sites for the development and transmission of humanistic ideas. The former is a cheap act of virtual graffiti; the latter may be the closest a secular scholar can come to desecration.
Some prominent academic blogs in cognate disciplines have discussed the affair, namely Crooked Timber, Languagehat, and Lawyers, Guns and Money, but with some exceptions the predominant reaction in the these posts and comments seems to be wry amusement, rather than concern, say, or disgust. Harvey himself (apparently) twice commented himself at Languagehat (without quite defending or explaining his actions), but strangely was all but ignored by the other commenters.
Perhaps I feel more strongly about it than most. Harvey is an independent historian and has been for much of his career, apart from some periods inside the academy. I’m also currently an independent historian, and worry that this sort of misbehaviour will make it harder for people in my position to contribute to academic scholarship from outside the academy proper. That’s unfounded, perhaps; I’ve encountered no undue difficulties so far and Harvey’s case is probably odd enough to be sui generis. Also, I own one of Harvey’s books (Body Politic: Political Metaphor and Political Violence) and, I notice, praised him on Twitter. Certainly I was impressed by the range of his research in period, topic and discipline, from sex in Georgian England to literary criticism. So I feel foolish for having been taken in by him. Finally, and most importantly, a significant proportion of Harvey’s prolific output comprises military history, and even airpower history (though ironically this is the part of his work I’m least familiar with): Arnhem, Collision of Empires: Britain in Three World Wars, 1793-1945, A Muse of Fire: Literature, Art and War, English Literature and the Great War with France,’The French Armée de l’Air in May-June 1940: a failure of conception’, ‘The Spanish Civil War as seen by British officers’, ‘Army Air Force and Navy Air Force: Japanese aviation and the opening phase of the war in the Far East’, ‘The Royal Air Force and close support, 1918-1940′, ‘The bomber offensive that never took off: Italy’s Regia Aeronautica in 1940′ and so on. To be fair, as far as I know there is no evidence that any of these works is fraudulent in any way. But how can historians extend Harvey the benefit of the doubt now? If we should be patrolling the borders of our discipline against incursions by pseudohistorians, then we should also sound the alarm when there’s an enemy inside the gates.
I don’t actually have any capacity to speak on behalf of the Society for Military History, but I would nonetheless offer the following public service announcement for those who participate in future SMH conferences (and any conference for that matter).
Conferences are useful. Conferences can even be fun. But what’s not fun is when individual presenters go far far over their allotted time. A few minutes over – not a problem. But twice as long as the allotted twenty minutes? Not cool. We all know the time limits, so let’s stick to them, shall we?
The problem is only compounded when the chair fails to do his/her duty – keep them to time. That’s what the chairs are for – to ‘ride herd’ in cowboy-speak. Let everyone know at the beginning of the session that you will be keeping presenters to their time limits. And do it. The audience will understand, even thank you. Remember as well that some people are trying to jump from panel to panel to hear particular papers – going far over time really screws that up.
But what makes it even worse is when the chair, who has failed to do his/her duty and leave any time at all for questions at the end, then proceeds to read his/her own commentary well into the break between sessions. Not cool.
One of the reasons we attend panels is to get some sort of interaction with the presenters. Please, please, please – let’s try to keep to the time limits, and be ready to get cut off. Every year conference organizers make these expectations clear to presenters and chairs/commentators, but we still seem to have difficulty following through.
This public service announcement brought to you by a panel attendee.
[Cross-posted at Airminded.]
Today is Anzac Day, the anniversary of the landing at Gallipoli of Australian (and New Zealand, though my remarks here mostly pertain to my own country) troops on 25 April 1915. In the last two decades Anzac day has increasingly been seen as marking the coming of age of the nation, and its annual commemoration has become the most sacred event on the national calendar. And as a military historian I think this is a problem.
The original diggers are gone now, and the numbers of the veterans of later wars are diminishing rapidly too, but dawn services at local war memorials and overseas battlefields seem to only become more popular. Broadcast, print and social media are filled with ritual invocations to never forget. New forms of commemoration appear. Stories of courage and sacrifice are told and retold. This is not in itself a problem. I’m not against Anzac Day, as such, and there’s nothing wrong with remembering. It’s what we’re not remembering, or never knew in the first place, that is worrying. We should be looking to understand, not merely remember.
[Cross-posted at Airminded.]
Previously I argued that two books by Frank Joseph, Mussolini’s War: Fascist Italy’s Military Struggles from Africa and Western Europe to the Mediterranean and Soviet Union 1935-45 (Helion & Company, 2010) and The Axis Air Forces: Flying in Support of the German Luftwaffe (Praeger, 2011), were at the very least bad history and, in the case of Mussolini’s War at least, possibly apologies for fascism as well. I also promised that I’d take a closer look at Joseph himself. It turns out that military history is only one of his interests, and that he is better known as a pseudoarchaeologist and a former neo-Nazi.
It took a little bit of detective work to piece this together, but only a little. It’s in the author biographies supplied by his publishers. Praeger’s author biography of Joseph says that
Frank Joseph is professor of world archaeology with Japan’s Savant Institute, and recipient of the Midwest Epigraphic Society’s Victor Moseley Award. His published works include more than 20 books in as many foreign editions, such as Mussolini’s War: Fascist Italy’s Military Struggles from Africa and Western Europe to the Mediterranean and Soviet Union 1935–45.
Helion’s biography is more extensive (Mussolini’s War, 312):
A member of the Oriental Institute at the University of Chicago and a scuba diver since 1962, Joseph has participated in underwater archaeological expeditions in the Bahamas, Yucatan, the Canary Islands, the Aegean, and Polynesia. A frequent guest speaker across the United States, he has lectured in Britain, Slovenia, and throughout Japan, where he was made ‘Professor of World Archaeology’ by Kyushu’s Savant Society. Before the close of the past century, Japanese national television broadcast two different programs about his work.
In 1998, he received the Victor Moseley Award for his work on behalf of cultural diffusionist archaeology from Ohio’s Midwest Epigraphic Society (Columbus). He also received 1999’s Burrow’s Cave Society Award, and his work has additionally commended by the Ancient Artifacts Preservation Foundation (Marquette, Michigan).
At first blush this perhaps doesn’t sound so bad. The Oriental Institute is perfectly respectable, of course, though becoming a member requires nothing more than paying an annual fee. The ‘Savant Institute’ has very little web presence, at least in English, but it appears to have something to do with archaeology (Nobuhiro Yoshida, ‘President of Japan Petroglyph Society and Professor at the Savant Institute & Japan Academic Center’, spoke at the 2005 conference of the American Rock Art Research Association). The Ancient Artifacts Preservation Foundation exists ‘To collect and preserve evidence of ancient civilizations in North America, and the Great Lakes region in particular, in a manner that supports their study by amateur and professional scholars and to educate the public about the significance’. The Midwestern Epigraphic Society ‘researches the ancient migrations of mankind to the Americas, especially Pre-Columbian and particularly to the Midwest US, as revealed by cultural similarities, archaic writing, ancient world history and evidence found by modern science’.
We historians like words. So we just love it when computers let us count words really quickly. In fact, I’ve even done it once or twice. So we should all be really interested when the AHA (courtesy of Robert Townsend) comes out with a study of lots of words. The words in 23,000 history dissertation titles since 1920, to be exact. Summarizing the results of the study, reportage from Inside Higher Ed included the following:
‘For the recent titles [1993-2012], some of the analysis may challenge conventional wisdom about the state of the disciplines. There has been much discussion in recent years from some historians who say that issues of race, class and gender have come to dominate history, at the expense of traditional studies of politics and war. But the new AHA study found that “war” appeared in 11 percent of dissertation titles and “politics” appeared in 7.6 percent of titles. By contrast “women” and “gender” appeared in 7.8 percent of the titles, and “race,” “ethnic” and “ethnicity” appeared in only 4.5 percent of the titles.’
I was struck by this interpretation. And I was reminded of the dangers of using single words to conclude too much from a work. I was particularly curious about that word “war. ” What is it good for? What does it really tell us about the extent to which a study adopts a ‘traditional’ approach to war? Does it tell us whether the author is doing ‘military’ history, and if so, what kind?
I don’t claim to know the answer. But while I don’t have those 23,000 dissertation titles at hand, I have played around with Google Ngram Viewer, and done some basic analysis of the paper titles for the upcoming SMH conference. And I’ve noticed how the word “war” really does need some kind of semantic markup (as the digital humanists like to say), because the word “war” could mean many different things. Often times it may refer to the study of war in a traditional sense, but just as often (not sure about the exact proportion) it is actually being used as a shorthand for a timeframe, rather than an approach, much less a subject of study. You can probably think of various titles that deal with, say the homefront during World War II, as examples. These examples clearly indicate a willingness to use the term “war,” and even study life during wartime. But that’s not exactly the same thing as military history, or at least not a traditional approach to military history as the above quote suggests. (I’ll ignore here the odd fact that ‘war history’ sounds more military than ‘military history.’)
If we really wanted to get a sense of the relative frequency of various historical subfields, we should be a bit more sophisticated. Better than “war” might be “wars” and “warfare,” since I’d guess it’s mostly military historians who care about multiple wars and the waging of war. More useful might be terms that traditional military historians actually impart substantive meaning to, that is to say, their disciplinary jargon: military, army/armies, navy/navies, battle, siege, strategy, tactics, campaign, etc. Check out my previous post if you need some additional examples. We might even rank such terms according to how ‘traditional’ they are. You could also search for specific battles, even the years of famous campaigns (1494, 1704, 1812, 1815…). Perhaps best of all would be some combination of “war” and these other terms used by traditional military historians. In short, I wonder how useful a frequency count of “war” really is.
Better software which lets us to see collocations and co-occurrences will allow us to analyze phrases and not just single words (“unigrams”) – Google Ngram Viewer even offers a little of this basic functionality now. As we improve our methodology, we will undoubtedly achieve a better understanding of our discipline and field.
[Cross-posted at Airminded.]
I recently came across what appear to be two bad books from what are two good publishers. There’s nothing particularly unusual about that — these things happen, a lot of books get published on military history and they can’t all be good. But it turns out that the author of these books is even more questionable than the content. I worry that, having got this far and established a track record, he will be able keep convincing publishers to look favourably upon his work.
The author in question is Frank Joseph, and the books are Mussolini’s War: Fascist Italy’s Military Struggles from Africa and Western Europe to the Mediterranean and Soviet Union 1935-45 (Helion & Company, 2010) and The Axis Air Forces: Flying in Support of the German Luftwaffe (Praeger, 2011) — the publisher’s pages can be found here and here. I must admit to not having read them, so this is not a review. But enough is available on Google Books, here and here, to cast serious doubts upon Joseph’s reliability, and these doubts are amply confirmed by reviews available elsewhere, for example by Richard Carrier in Global War Studies. I’ll focus on Mussolini’s War, though The Axis Air Forces appears to be pretty bad too — I’ll just mention here the blunt, unsupported claim from that an American experimental VTOL aircraft of the 1950s, the Convair XFY, ‘had been built from Campini’s original plans’ (p. 31) for the Caproni Campini Ca.183bis, a planned ‘futuristic Italian interceptor’ with ‘a highly innovative vertical takeoff and landing design’ (p. 30). The only trouble is that, as far as I can tell, the XFY owed nothing to any Italian aircraft (though it did to a German one, the unbuilt Focke-Wulf Triebflügel), and the Ca.183bis was not a VTOL design at all, but a high-altitude interceptor of relatively conventional configuration (albeit with a Campini compressor, making it a crude jet). The only somewhat unusual feature they had in common seems to have been contra-rotating propellers, but they weren’t actually all that rare. But on to Mussolini’s War.
The long-awaited program for the New Orleans SMH conference has finally been released. And, sure, you could download the PDF yourself and read through that long list of paper titles, but wouldn’t it be more interesting to get an impressionistic ‘blink’ of the conference in its entirety? Of course it would be. So here it is:
In future posts I’ll analyze what the 2013 program suggests about the interests of SMH members by delving a bit more into the details, but for the time being, a few painfully-obvious conclusions based solely off of the titles of the papers:
That’s all for now.
[Cross-posted at Airminded.]
It’s been a good year for reading military history, but then it always is. If I had to recommend one military history book I’ve read this year it would be David Stevenson’s With Our Backs to the Wall: Victory and Defeat in 1918 (London: Penguin, 2012). Stevenson’s previous book, 1914-1918 (published as Cataclysm in the United States), was a good survey of the First World War, even an excellent one; but it didn’t hint at the magisterial nature of this book. In fact, I was worried that With Our Backs to the Wall might simply prove to be a padded-out version of the 130-odd pages in 1914-1918 covering the same period. Of course my fears were groundless.
The first third of With Our Backs to the Wall provides the narrative backdrop for the rest of the book. Here, Stevenson explains the events of 1918: in particular the German gamble on the Western Front in the spring, the successful Allied defence and the ultimately even more successful Allied offensive leading to the Armistice. This section by itself is almost worth the cover price (especially if you bought it in paperback like I did): it’s easy to focus on the ‘classic’ period of trench warfare between 1915 and 1917 and forget the return to a war of movement in 1918. But where Stevenson really shines is in the following thematic chapters which explore how the war was fought in 1918, how it had changed since 1914 and why it didn’t continue into 1919, as was widely expected until the autumn. There’s something for everyone here: technology, intelligence, logistics, morale, finance, economics, gender. Of course the approach is necessarily largely synthetic, though Stevenson does often use primary source material to great effect. Each topic is treated in depth to a satisfying degree: even if you are familiar with the scholarship you are likely to find something worthwhile (as I did in the section on airpower), and if you aren’t you’ll learn a lot. But despite the density of the text and its length (nearly 550 pages excluding endnotes), I found With Our Backs to the Wall a compelling and even gripping book. Highly recommended. (But if it’s not to your taste, perhaps try Claudia Baldoli and Andrew Knapp, Forgotten Blitzes: France and Italy Under Allied Air Attack, 1940-1945, London and New York: Continuum, 2012.)
So if you had to recommend one military history book you’ve read this year, what would it be? What one book most impressed you, informed you, surprised you, moved you?
[The views stated here are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of the Society for Military History or the Journal of Military History. Cross-posted at Airminded.]
While they only apply to journals published in the UK, the recommendations of the recent Finch Report on open access (OA) have some worrying implications for historians overseas as well as those working in the UK, especially if they are working independently of any institutional base. If adopted, they would mean doing away with the current subscription-based model of access to scholarly articles. Instead, articles published under what is known as Gold OA would be free for anyone to download (ideally, though there will likely be a transition period). The cost of publication would instead be covered by charges paid by the authors themselves, the so-called Article Processing Charge (APC). The Finch Report suggests an APC of £1450, and envisages that this would ultimately be borne by the universities who employ the authors, or by the granting bodies who fund them. The Cameron government has already accepted the recommendations of the Finch Report.
This is fantastic news for libraries, struggling with increasing subscription fees and reduced budgets. It would also make the results of research directly available to the wider public who currently need to pay a not-inconsiderable amount to download a scholarly article, unless they can get access through a public library. These two reasons, which provide much of the impetus for OA, are self-evidently good ones.
Independent historians (like me) will likewise benefit greatly from being able to freely download articles under Gold OA. But they will lose more than they gain. In general they cannot look to their employer to pay the APC for any work that they wish to publish in academic journals. Similarly, they are unlikely to have grant money to draw upon to cover the costs of publication. Most of the time, independent scholars would have to pay the APC out of their own pocket. It’s already difficult enough, and expensive enough, to do academic-level research outside academia; adding a £1450 charge for the privilege of actually publishing that research will make it effectively impossible for many independent historians. Perhaps some funding could be set aside for non-academics to draw upon for APCs, but any such scheme would likely be competitive and would at best mean a lengthy delay in publication; at worst, it would mean that research that has passed (or is capable of passing) peer review would not get published. Or maybe the APC could simply be waived, but somebody would ultimately have to pay it: if it’s the journal itself, that might make it harder for them to accept work from independent historians (though twenty-one leading UK history journals have already stated that ‘all our decisions about publication will be taken regardless of whether an author is able to pay an APC or not’).
There is also the impact on historians working outside the UK (again, like me), including those in academia. Research funding in the UK might be restructured around Gold OA, but it won’t be elsewhere in the world. Historians working outside the UK quite likely wouldn’t be able to draw upon universities or funding bodies to pay the APC. Even if they could, they might find it difficult to justify spending scarce funds to publish in the UK when they could publish somewhere else in the world. This is a problem for historians of Britain (yet again, like me) who naturally wish to publish in British history journals. But it’s also a problem for historians working on other areas who might wish to publish in, for example, War in History, Journal of Strategic Studies, or First World War Studies.
If implemented, the recommendations of the Finch Report would open access to research from the point of view of the consumer, but it would perversely narrow access from the point of view of the producer. In the sciences, where nearly all academic research is fully funded or carried out in universities, Gold OA will work wonders. It may well do so in the humanities too, but the collateral damage will be much greater. What is to be done?
Sceptical responses to the Finch Report from learned societies and scholarly journals include: American Historical Association; British Academy; International Society of First World War Historians; Journal of Victorian Culture; Royal Historical Society; and, as previously noted, the collective response from a number of journals (including First World War Studies). Most heartening is Past & Present‘s position:
We want to state clearly and unequivocally that merit will be the sole determinant of Past & Present’s decisions to publish articles.
Whether an author can pay an APC or not will be irrelevant.
We will accept APCs and will also publish the articles of authors who cannot pay APCs. This means that all authors outside the UK and all within can continue to be published free of charge in Past & Present.