Stuart Hall

Stuart Hall

Stuart Hall is in 1932 in Kingston, Jamaika, gebore. Hy onthou later: "Ons was gedeeltelik Skotse, gedeeltelik Afrikaners, gedeeltelik Portugees-Jode." Sy pa, Herman Hall, was die eerste nie-blanke persoon wat 'n senior pos beklee het-hoofrekenmeester-by United Fruit Company in die land. Hy is opgelei aan die Jamaica College en nadat hy 'n Rhodes -beurs aan die Universiteit van Oxford gewen het, verhuis hy in 1951 na Engeland.

Terwyl hy Engels aan die Merton College studeer, ontwikkel hy radikale politieke sienings. Hall het bevind dat hy in 'n klein minderheid was: "In die vyftigerjare was universiteite nie, soos dit later geword het, sentrums van revolusionêre aktiwiteite nie. 'N Minderheid bevoorregte linkse studente, wat debatteer oor verbruikerskapitalisme en die opbou van werkersklas-kultuur te midde van die' droom van torings, lyk agterna miskien 'n taamlik marginale politieke verskynsel ... Ek het nie begin soos iemand gevorm het nie, maar as iemand wat ontsteld was ... Ek het gedink dat ek die ware ek in Oxford sou vind. Burgerregte het my laat aanvaar dat ek 'n swartman was intellektueel. "

Hall beskou homself as 'n marxis, maar as 'n teenstander van die beleid van Joseph Stalin het hy nie by die Kommunistiese Party aangesluit nie. In plaas daarvan het hy lid geword van wat bekend gestaan ​​het as die New Left. Sy politieke opvattinge was gebaseer op sy lees van die geskiedenis: "Brittanje is nie homogeen nie; dit was nooit 'n samelewing sonder konflik nie. Die Engelse het baklei oor alles waarvan ons weet as Engelse politieke deugde - oppergesag van die reg, vrye spraak, die franchise . "

Hall het lid geword van die Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND). Ander lede was JB Priestley, Bertrand Russell, EP Thompson, Fenner Brockway, Frank Allaun, Donald Soper, Vera Brittain, Sydney Silverman, James Cameron, Jennie Lee, Victor Gollancz, Konni Zilliacus, Richard Acland, Frank Cousins, AJ Taylor, Canon John Collins en Michael Foot. Op 'n CND -optog van Aldermaston na Londen, ontmoet Hall sy toekomstige vrou, Catherine Barrett. Hulle het twee kinders, Becky en Jess, gehad.

In 1957 werk Hall saam met E. Thompson, Raphael Samuel, Raymond Williams, Ralph Miliband en John Saville om twee radikale tydskrifte bekend te stel, Die nuwe rede en die Nuwe linkeroorsig, waar hy die stigterredakteur was. Hall werk ook as verskaffingsonderwyser in Brixton, en in 1961 word hy dosent in film en media aan die Chelsea College. Hy publiseer sy eerste boek, Die gewilde kunste, saam met Paddy Whannel, in 1964. Dit het daartoe gelei dat hy deur Richard Hoggart genooi is om by die Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies (CCCS) aan die Universiteit van Birmingham aan te sluit.

In 1968 word Hall direkteur van die CCCS -eenheid. Oor die volgende paar jaar het hy verskeie boeke geskryf, waaronder Situasie Marx: Evaluasies en vertrek (1972), Kodering en dekodering in die televisiediskoers (1973), Lees van Marx se inleiding tot die Grundrise uit 1857 (1973) en Polisiëring van die krisis (1978). Soos die Voog het daarop gewys: "Die grondslae van kultuurstudies was 'n aandrang daarop om populêre kulturele vorme met 'n lae status ernstig op te neem en die verweefde drade van kultuur, mag en politiek op te spoor. Die interdissiplinêre perspektiewe daarvan het literêre teorie, taalkunde en kulturele antropologie opgespoor. ontleed onderwerpe so uiteenlopend as subkulture van jongmense, gewilde media en geslags- en etniese identiteite ... Hall was altyd een van die eerstes wat belangrike vrae van die ouderdom geïdentifiseer het, en was gereeld skepties oor maklike antwoorde. , het hy nooit toegegee aan akademiese puntetelling nie. Hall se politieke verbeelding kombineer lewenskragtigheid en subtiliteit; op die gebied van idees was hy taai, gereed om posisies te bestry wat volgens hom polities gevaarlik was. Tog was hy onverbiddelik beleefd, vrygewig teenoor studente, aktiviste, kunstenaars en besoekers van regoor die wêreld, van wie baie hom liefgehad het. ”

Hall het aangevoer dat Brittanje in die sestigerjare 'n ware revolusie beleef het: "Onthou 1968, toe almal gesê het dat niks verander het nie, dat niemand staatsmag gewen het nie. Dit is waar. Die studente het nie gewen nie. Maar sedertdien is die lewe ingrypend verander. Idees van kommunitarisme, idees van die kollektief, van feminisme, van gaywees, is almal getransformeer deur die impak van 'n revolusie wat nie geslaag het nie ... Ek glo dus nie daarin om die historiese betekenis van gebeure te beoordeel in terme van ons gewoonlik foutiewe oordeel oor waar hulle kan beland. ”

In 1979 word Hall aangestel as professor in sosiologie aan die Open University. Die huidige visekanselier van die universiteit, Martin Bean, het daarop gewys dat hy 'n groot sukses was: "Stuart was een van die intellektuele stigters van kulturele studies, het baie invloedryke boeke gepubliseer en die gesprekke van die tyd gevorm. Dit was 'n voorreg om te kon hê Stuart in die hart van The Open University - het soveel lewens aangeraak en beïnvloed deur sy kursusse en tutoriaal. Hy was 'n toegewyde en invloedryke openbare intellektuele van die nuwe links, wat die gees beliggaam van waarvoor die OU nog altyd gestaan ​​het: openheid, toeganklikheid , 'n voorstander van sosiale geregtigheid en van die krag van opvoeding om positiewe veranderinge in mense se lewens te bring. "

Dit was Hall wat die term 'Thatcherisme' die eerste keer gebruik het in 'n artikel wat verskyn het in Marxisme vandag in Januarie 1979, om die politieke invloed van Margaret Thatcher te beskryf. Soos Die Daily Telegraph het daarop gewys: "Die konserwatiewe leier is deur baie linkses beskerm as net 'n skril huisvrou. Hall was een van die eerstes wat erken het dat Brittanje 'n nuwe era van politiek betree. Hy beskryf die verskynsel van Thatcherisme as iets meer beduidender en verraderliker as die persoonlike styl van een politikus ... By Hall was die gewildheid van Thatcherisme te danke aan links. Sosialiste het die ontnugtering van baie mense uit die werkersklas met die burokratiese staat nie besef nie, terwyl die Britse handel dryf. vakbonde, alhoewel hulle industrieel sterk was, het geen alternatiewe visie gebied nie.

Die redakteur, Martin Jacques, het daarop gewys dat dit die begin van 'n langtermynverhouding is. "Vir die volgende dekade het dit gevoel asof ons in mekaar se sakke leef. Die manier waarop Stuart geskryf het, was fassinerend. Sommige, soos Eric Hobsbawm, die ander Marxism Today great, het die eerste keer 'n perfekte teks gelewer. Stuart se eerste konsep, daarteenoor kom dit in 'n uiters onsamehangende en onstuimige vorm, asof hy sy keel wou skoonmaak.In die volgende tien dae sou die een konsep vinnig opeenvolgend volg, soos 'n tafeltennisspel. vindingryke intellek, stoot altyd die koevert op sy beste wanneer hy in een of ander vorm van samewerking met ander werk. Sy eindresultaat was altyd die moeite werd om te geniet, sy artikels was baie invloedryk. "

Ander boeke van Hall sluit in Die harde pad na vernuwing (1988), Weerstand deur rituele (1989), Moderniteit en sy toekoms (1992), Die vorming van moderniteit (1992), Vrae oor kulturele identiteit (1996), Kulturele voorstellings en betekenispraktyke (1997) en Visuele kultuur (1999). Professor Henry Louis Gates van die Harvard -universiteit noem hom "Black Britain's leading theorist of black Britain".

Hall tree in 1997 af by die Open University en word lid van die Commission on the Future of Multi-Ethnic Britain, wat deur die Runnymede Trust gestig is. Hy bly aktief in die politiek en was 'n toonaangewende kritikus van Tony Blair en val hom aan vir die besetting van die 'terrein wat deur Thatcherism gedefinieer is'. Hy beskryf Blair later as 'die grootste Tory sedert Margaret Thatcher' en voer aan dat alhoewel die leierskap van die Konserwatiewe Party 'verdeeld, uitgeput en gedemoraliseer' is, dit steeds 'hul argumente, hul filosofie, hul prioriteite' is wat die definisie van die agenda waarop nuwe Arbeid dink en praat ”.

Sy vriend, Martin Jacques, wys daarop: "Tragies genoeg het Stuart se swak gesondheid sy gewelddadige energie stadig maar sonder nadeel ingekort en ondermyn. Die afgelope ongeveer twintig jaar was hy 'n semi-invalide. Maar sy gedagtes was net so waaksaam en betrokke soos altyd. Die reaksie op sy dood het getoon hoe sy werk soveel mense op soveel verskillende maniere beïnvloed het: kulturele studies, ras en etnisiteit, politiek, kunste, media, akademie. krag en insig Stuart se buitengewone impak was nie omdat hy toevallig swart en van Jamaika was nie, maar omdat hy swart was en van Jamaika. Hy was op soveel maniere sy tyd ver vooruit. Dit is moeilik om aan iemand anders te dink wat so 'n kragtige insig gebied het oor wat die afgelope 70 jaar met ons gebeur het. "

Stuart Hall is op 10 Februarie 2014 oorlede.

Toe die skrywer en akademikus Richard Hoggart in 1964 die Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies aan die Universiteit van Birmingham gestig het, nooi hy Stuart Hall, wat op 82 -jarige ouderdom oorlede is, as eerste navorsingsgenoot by hom aan. Vier jaar later word Hall waarnemende direkteur en in 1972 direkteur. Kultuurstudies was toe 'n minderheidstog: 'n halfeeu is oral, en dit lewer 'n magdom belangrike werk op, selfs al kan dit in sy geïnstitusionaliseerde vorm intellektuele posisies insluit wat Hall nooit sou kon onderskryf nie.

Die grondslae van kultuurstudies was 'n aandrang daarop om populêre kulturele vorme met 'n lae status ernstig op te neem en die verweefde drade van kultuur, mag en politiek op te spoor. Sy interdissiplinêre perspektiewe put uit literêre teorie, taalkunde en kulturele antropologie om onderwerpe so uiteenlopend soos sub-kulture van die jeug, populêre media en geslags- en etniese identiteite te ontleed-om sodoende 'n voorbeeld te skep vir byvoorbeeld die Guardian se eie G2-afdeling.

Hall was altyd een van die eerstes wat belangrike vrae van die ouderdom geïdentifiseer het, en was gereeld skepties oor maklike antwoorde. Tog was hy onfeilbaar beleefd, vrygewig teenoor studente, aktiviste, kunstenaars en besoekers van regoor die wêreld, van wie baie hom liefgehad het. Hall het lof van universiteite wêreldwyd gewen, ondanks dat hy nooit aan homself as 'n geleerde gedink het nie. Universiteite het hom 'n basis gebied waaruit hy kon leer - 'n bron van groot plesier vir hom - en saam met ander in die openbare debat kon werk.

In Januarie 1979 Marxisme vandag publiseer Hall se voormalige, en nou gevierde, opstel, "The Great Moving Right Show", waarin hy die vroeë sukses van "Thatcherism" bespreek, die term wat hy bedink het vir die destydse leier van die opposisie se ontluikende beleid. "Die Heath -posisie is vernietig in die konfrontasie met georganiseerde arbeid. Maar dit is ook ondermyn deur die interne teenstrydighede daarvan. Dit kon nie die kragmeting met arbeid wen nie," het hy aangevoer. "Dit kon nie volksondersteuning vir hierdie beslissende ontmoeting verkry nie; in nederlaag het dit teruggekeer na sy 'natuurlike posisie' in die politieke spektrum ..."

Hall het voorgestel dat 'Thatcherisme' in hierdie ruimte daarin slaag deur direk die 'kruipende sosialisme' en apologetiese 'staatskollektivisme' van die Heath -vleuel te betrek. Dit fokus dus op die senuwee van konsensuspolitiek, wat die politieke toneel vir meer as 'n dekade. " Hall het later oor Thatcher se beleid gesê: "Toe ek Thatcherisme sien, het ek besef dat dit nie net 'n ekonomiese program was nie, maar dat dit 'n diepgaande kulturele wortel het. Thatcher en [Henoch] Powell was albei wat Hegel 'historiese individue' noem."

Hall het die woord "Thatcherism" vir die eerste keer in 'n vooraanstaande artikel in Marxism Today in Januarie 1979 geskep, vier maande voordat Margaret Thatcher self Downingstraat binnegekom het. Die konserwatiewe leier is deur baie linkses beskerm as net 'n skril huisvrou. Hall was een van die eerstes wat erken het dat Brittanje 'n nuwe era van politiek betree.

Hy beskryf die verskynsel van Thatcherisme as iets meer betekenisvol en verraderliker as die persoonlike styl van een politikus. Later beskryf hy mev Thatcher as die 'historiese individu' van Hegel, 'n persoon wie se politiek en teenstrydighede 'in 'n lewe of loopbaan veel groter kragte speel of konkretiseer'.

By Hall is die gewildheid van Thatcherisme ontstaan ​​deur foute aan die linkerkant. Sosialiste, het hy aangevoer, het die ontnugtering van baie werkersklasmense met die burokratiese staat nie herken nie, terwyl Britse vakbonde, hoewel dit industrieel sterk was, geen alternatiewe visie gebied het nie. Thatcherisme het 'kontoere van openbare denke herdefinieer' deur te verstaan ​​dat die weg na mense se harte nie net deur Westminster was nie, maar deur ander ruimtes in hul lewens wat hulle nie eens as 'politiek' beskou het nie - gebiede soos moraliteit en kultuur.

Hall het 'n beroep op die linkses gedoen om die kulturele stryd teen Thatcherisme te beveg deur 'n betrokkenheid by nuwe sosiale bewegings soos multikulturalisme, omgewingsbewustheid en gay-regte-denke wat 'n integrale deel geword het van die 'New Labour'-projek soos dit ontwikkel het in die middel van die negentigerjare.

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Stuart Hall

Hy is opgevolg deur sy oudste seun,

ANDREW (c1521-91), 2de Lord Ochiltree, wat met Agnes Cunningham getroud is, en 'n seun en erfgenaam gehad het, Andrew Stewart, gestileer Meester van Ochiltree, wat hom in 1578 oorlede het, en opgevolg is deur sy kleinseun,

ANDREW , 3de Lord Ochiltree (c1560-1629), wat die feodale baronie van OCHILTREE aan sy neef, sir James Stuart, van Killeith verkoop het, geskep is, 1619, Baron Castle Stewart, van County Tyrone, waar hy aansienlike boedels besit het.

Hy trou, ca. 1587, Margaret, dogter van sir John Kennedy, van Blairquhan, en het probleme ondervind,

Sy heerskappy is opgevolg deur sy oudste seun,

SIR ANDREW, 2de Baron (1590-1639), wat voorheen 'n baronet geskep is.

Hy het gestem, ca. 1604, die Lady Anne Stewart, vyfde dogter en mede-erfgenaam van John, 5de graaf van Atholl, deur watter dame hy probleme gehad het,

Sy heerskappy is opgevolg deur sy oudste seun,

ANDREW, 3de Baron (-1650), wat getroud is met Joyce, dogter en erfgenaam van sir Arthur Blundell, deur wie hy 'n afstammeling gehad het, die enigste kind, MARY, wat met Henry 5de graaf van Suffolk getrou het.

Sy heerskappy het gesterf sonder manlike kwessie, en die eer is toegeken aan sy broer,

JOSIAS, 4de Baron (c1637-62), wat Anne, dogter van John Madden, uit Enfield, Middlesex, deur sy vrou Elizabeth, dogter en mede-erfgenaam van Charles Waterhouse, van Manor Waterhouse, County Fermanagh, aanhang.

Hierdie huwelik was sonder probleme en die titels het teruggekeer na sy oom,

JOHN, 5de Baron, na wie se afsterwe sonder afwyking, die titel tot 1774, toe dit opgeëis is deur, toegelaat is om te bly

KAPTEIN ROBERT STEWART, de jure 6de Baron, wat getroud is met Anne, dogter van William Moore, uit Garvey, County Tyrone.

Hy het doodgegaan ca. 1685, en word opgevolg deur sy seun,

ANDREW, de jure 7de Baron (1672-1715), wat met Eleanor, dogter van Robert Dallway, uit Bellahill, County Antrim, getrou het, deur wie hy probleme ondervind het,

ROBERT, de jure 8ste Baron (1700-42), wat in 1722 getroud is met Margaret, suster en mede-erfgenaam van Hugh Edwards, van Castle Gore, County Tyrone, en probleme ondervind het,

ANDREW THOMAS, 9de Baron (1725-1809), wat geskep is Burggraaf Castle Stewart in 1793.

Sy heerskappy is verder gevorder tot 'n graafskap, in 1800, as EARL CASTLE STEWART.

Sy heerskappy trou in 1781 met Sarah, die dogter van die Rt Hon Godfrey Lill, Regter van die Court of Common Pleas in Ierland, deur wie hy 'n kwessie gehad het,

Sy heerskappy is opgevolg deur sy oudste seun,

ROBERT, 2de graaf (1784-1854), wat in 1806 Jemima, enigste dogter van kolonel Robinson, vir wie hy probleme ondervind het, aanhang.

DIE ander belangrike gebeurtenis van sy lang bewind as familiehoof was die eerste graaf se verkryging in 1782 van 'n derde landgoed in County Tyrone, die herehuis van Orritor, alias Redenaar.

Orritor was naby Stewartstown en was dus geografies goed geleë om die bestaande herehuise van Castle Stewart en Forward af te rond.

Die Orritor Estate is egter aangrensend aan Drum Manor en was dus nader aan Cookstown as Stewartstown of New Mills, waar die Forward -landgoed geleë is.

Robert Stewart van Stuart Hall het in 1722 met Margaret Edwards van Castlegore getrou, en as gevolg van die mislukking van die manlike erfgename in die Edwards -familie, het Castlegore na die Stuarts oorgegaan.

In 1862 genereer die vier herehuise 'n jaarlikse inkomste van 1637.567.

'N Verdere tydelike toevoeging tot die Tyrone -landgoed is in 1866 gemaak toe Lord Stuart, later 5de Earl Castle Stewart, met die erfgenaam van die Richardson Brady -familie van Oaklands getrou het. alias Drum Manor, Cookstown.

By sy dood in 1914 word hy egter opgevolg in die graafskap en in die Castle Stewart -boedels deur sy neef, maar in Drum Manor deur een van sy dogters, Lady Muriel Close.

STUART HALL, naby Stewartstown, County Tyrone, is ongeveer 1760 gebou vir Andrew, 1st Earl Castle Stewart.

Dit was oorspronklik 'n Georgiese blok met drie verdiepings met 'n pilaarstoep, wat deur 'n 19de-eeuse Gotiese vleuel aan 'n ou toringhuis gekoppel is.

Meer onlangs is die twee boonste verdiepings van die hoofblok verwyder, wat die voorkoms van 'n Georgiese bungalow gegee het.

Stuart Hall is in Julie 1972 deur die IRA opgeblaas en daarna gesloop.

'N Nuwe woning is daarna in 1987 op die perseel gebou.

Die huidige huis word omring deur grasperke en 'n onderhoude bosveldtuin.

Daar is ha-ha om te wei, met 'n pragtige uitsig op die landskapspark en die bosveld daarbuite.

Die stalle en plaasgeboue bestaan ​​uit die 18de eeu en word gelys.

Die ommuurde tuin het 'n dadelsteen uit 1832 en word versier deur 'n gekastelleerde muur en twee dwaas torings wat op die voormalige stapelwerf lê.

Rowan beskryf dit as ‘ … gegooi, van puin met baksteenstene en 'n mollige ronde toring aan weerskante. ’

'N Klipopskrif op 'n fries het egter 'n opskrif wat 1783 of 1785 lees.

Die ommuurde tuin word nie bygehou nie.

Daar was uitgebreide kweekhuise.

Die belangrikste kenmerk van die demesne is die fyn staanplekke van volwasse bome, in die landskapstyl van die middel van die 18de eeu.

Daar word ook bos aangeplant.

A gate lodge of ca. 1835 is weg, maar die hekskerm bly.

Die eerste keer gepubliseer in Desember 2009. Castle Stewart -wapens met vergunning van European Heraldry.


Stuart Hall, Geskrifte op media: Geskiedenis van die hede, geredigeer deur Charlotte Brunsdon – Duke University Press, Oktober 2021

Volumes oor marxisme en ras en verskil het onlangs verskyn, en dit is die volgende versameling in die reeks van Stuart Hall: Selected Writings.

Geskrifte op die media versamel meer as twintig van die media -ontledings van Stuart Hall ’, van wetenskaplike essays soos "Encoding and Decoding" (1973) tot ander geskrifte wat aan 'n groter publiek gerig is. Hall ondersoek die praktyke van nuusfotografie, die ontwikkeling van media- en kultuurstudies, die veranderende rol van televisie en hoe die nasie homself verbeeld deur middel van populêre media. Hy kyk na die imperiale geskiedenis van Brittanje en die politiek van ras en kulturele identiteit, sowel as die media -verhouding tot die politieke projek van die staat. Getuig van die omvang en behendigheid van Hall ’ se kritiese en pedagogiese betrokkenheid by die hedendaagse mediakultuur - en ook van sy samewerkende werkswyse - bevestig hierdie bundel sy statuur as 'n innoverende mediateoretikus, terwyl dit die voortdurende relevansie van sy analise -metodes demonstreer.


Stuart Hall and the Rise of Cultural Studies

In die somer van 1983 het die Jamaikaanse geleerde Stuart Hall, wat in Engeland gewoon en geleer het, na die Universiteit van Illinois in Urbana-Champaign gereis om 'n reeks lesings te lewer oor iets wat 'Cultural Studies' genoem word. Destyds het baie akademici nog steeds geag dat die ernstige studie van die populêre kultuur onder hulle 'n baie groter verdeeldheid het, en dan tussen wat Hall die 'geverifieerde, gevalideerde' smaak van die hoër klasse en die ongeraffineerde kultuur van die massas noem. Maar Hall het hierdie hiërargie nie as nuttig beskou nie. Hy het aangevoer dat kultuur nie bestaan ​​uit wat die opgevoede eliete toevallig vind nie, soos klassieke musiek of beeldende kunste. Dit is eenvoudig "ervaring geleef, ervaring geïnterpreteer, ervaring gedefinieer." En dit kan ons dinge oor die wêreld vertel, het hy geglo dat meer tradisionele studies oor politiek of ekonomie alleen dit nie kon doen nie.

Hall was 'n meesterlike redenaar en het die gehoor in Illinois opgewek, 'n groep denkers en skrywers van regoor die wêreld wat bymekaargekom het vir 'n somerinstituut wat hom toespits op die ontleding van marxistiese benaderings tot kulturele analise. 'N Jong geleerde met die naam Jennifer Daryl Slack het geglo dat sy iets besonders aanskou het en het besluit om die lesings op te neem en te transkribeer. Na meer as 'n dekade se aanloklikhede, het Hall uiteindelik ingestem om hierdie transkripsies te redigeer vir publikasie, 'n proses wat jare duur. Die resultaat is "Cultural Studies 1983: A Theoretical History", wat verlede herfs gepubliseer is as deel van 'n lopende Duke University Press -reeks genaamd "Stuart Hall: Selected Writings", wat die loopbaan en invloed van Hall, wat in 2014 oorlede is, beskryf. .

In die breë is kultuurstudies nie net een arm van die geesteswetenskappe nie, maar 'n poging om al die arms tegelyk te gebruik. Dit het na vore gekom in Engeland, in die negentien-vyftig en sestig, toe geleerdes uit die werkersklas, soos Richard Hoggart en Raymond Williams, begin dink het oor die afstand tussen kanonieke kulturele raakstene-die musiek of boeke wat u moes leer hoe om burgerlik en gemanierd te wees-en hul eie opvoeding. Hierdie geleerdes het geglo dat die opkoms van massakommunikasie en gewilde vorme ons verhouding tot mag en gesag en met mekaar permanent verander. Daar was nie meer konsensus nie. Hall was geïnteresseerd in die ervaring om in sulke ontwrigtende tye te lewe. Wat is kultuur, het hy voorgestel, maar 'n poging om hierdie veranderinge te begryp, om 'n mens se kop te draai om wat nuut moontlik is?

Hall het die geloof behou dat kultuur 'n plek van 'onderhandeling' is, soos hy dit stel, 'n ruimte van gee en neem waar die bedoelde betekenisse kortsluit kan word. "Populêre kultuur is een van die plekke waar hierdie stryd vir en teen 'n kultuur van die magtiges betrokke is: dit is ook die aandeel wat jy in daardie stryd kan wen of verloor," voer hy aan. 'Dit is die arena van toestemming en verset.' In 'n vrye samelewing beantwoord kultuur nie die sentrale, regeringsinstruksies nie, maar bevat dit 'n onbewuste gevoel van die waardes wat ons deel, wat dit beteken om reg of verkeerd te wees. Gedurende sy loopbaan het Hall gefassineer geraak met die teorieë oor 'ontvangs' - hoe ons die verskillende boodskappe wat die kultuur vir ons vertel, ontsyfer hoe kultuur ons help om ons eie identiteit te kies. Hy was nie bloot geïnteresseerd in die interpretasie van nuwe vorme, soos film of televisie nie, met behulp van die gereedskap wat geleerdes voorheen oor literatuur gebring het. Hy was geïnteresseerd in die begrip van die verskillende politieke, ekonomiese of sosiale kragte wat in hierdie media saamgekom het. Dit was nie net die inhoud of die taal van die nuusnuus of middelblaaie, wat ons vertel het wat ons moet dink nie; dit is ook hoe dit gestruktureer, verpak en versprei is.

Volgens Slack en Lawrence Grossberg, die redakteurs van "Cultural Studies 1983", was Hall huiwerig om hierdie lesings te publiseer omdat hy bevrees was dat dit as 'n kritiese gereedskapstel vir alle doeleindes gelees sou word, eerder as 'n reeks noukeurig geleë historiese gesprekke. Hall was self ambivalent oor wat hy beskou as die Amerikaanse fetisj vir teorie, 'n oortuiging dat intellektuele werk bloot in Slack en Grossberg se woorde 'n 'soeke na die regte teorie was wat, sodra dit gevind is, die geheime van enige sosiale werklikheid sou ontsluit. . ” Dit was nie so eenvoudig nie. (Ek het myself afgevra wat Hall sou dink oor hoe kultuurkritiek, soortgelyk aan ideologiese patroonherkenning, in die tyd van sosiale media toegeneem het.)

In die loop van sy lesings worstel Hall versigtig met voorvaders, waaronder die Britse geleerde F.R. Leavis en ook Williams en Hoggart (laasgenoemde stig die Birmingham se invloedryke Center for Contemporary Cultural Studies, wat Hall in die sewentigerjare gelei het). Geleidelik word die lesings saamgevoeg oor vrae oor hoe ons ons lewens betekenis gee, hoe ons die "kultuur wat ons nooit sien nie, die kultuur waaraan ons nie as gekweek word nie, herken en verstaan". Hierdie lesings is geen instruksies vir die 'doen' van kulturele studies nie - tot op die ou einde raak hulle skaars opkomende kulturele vorme wat Hall interesseer, soos reggae en punkrock. In plaas daarvan probeer hulle wys hoe ver hierdie vrae terugkom.

Vir Hall het hierdie vrae uit sy eie lewe ontstaan ​​- 'n feit wat sy memoires, 'Familiar Stranger', wat in April deur Duke gepubliseer is, skerp fokus. Hall is gebore in 1932, in Kingston. Sy pa, Herman, was die eerste nie-blanke persoon wat 'n senior pos beklee het by die Jamaikaanse kantoor van United Fruit, 'n Amerikaanse boerdery- en landboukorporasie, en sy ma, Jessie, was gemengde ras. Hulle beskou hulself as 'n aparte klas, verduidelik Hall en gee 'n "bruto koloniale simulasie van Engeland uit die hoër middelklas." Van kleins af voel hy vervreem deur hul gesellige omhelsing van die eiland se rassehiërargie. As kind was sy vel donkerder as die res van sy gesin, en sy suster het gevra: "Waar het jy hierdie cool baba vandaan?" Dit het 'n gesinsgrap geword - een wat hy gereeld sou besoek. En tog voel hy ook geen outentieke verbintenis met die werkersklas Jamaica nie, "bewus van die kloof wat my van die menigte geskei het." Die sagte skuldgevoel wat hy beskryf, voel opvallend kontemporêr. En hy het gesukkel om die terme van hierdie ongemak te verwoord: "Ek kon nie 'n taal vind om die teenstrydighede te ontrafel of om my gesin te konfronteer met wat ek werklik van hul waardes, gedrag en aspirasies gedink het nie." Die begeerte om daardie taal te vind, sou die lewendige vonk van sy professionele lewe word.

In 1951 het Hall 'n Rhodes -beurs gewen om aan Oxford te studeer. Hy was deel van die "Windrush" -geslag - 'n term wat gebruik word om die golwe van Wes -Indiese migrasie na Engeland in die naoorlogse jare te beskryf. Alhoewel Hall uit 'n ander klas as die meeste van hierdie migrante kom, het hy 'n verbintenis met sy landgenote gevoel. 'Skielik het alles anders gelyk,' sou hy later onthou van sy aankoms in Engeland. Hy het 'n koerantfoto van drie Jamaikane wat by die tyd opgedaag het, uitgeknip. Twee van hulle is timmermanne en een is 'n aspirant -bokser, hulle is almal nege aangetrek. “Dit was styl. Hulle was op 'n missie, vasbeslote om erken te word as deelnemers aan die moderne wêreld en dit van hulle te maak. Ek kyk elke oggend na hierdie foto terwyl ek self na die wêreld toe gaan, ”skryf hy.

Hall het parate dissipels by Amerikaanse universiteite gevind, hoewel daar aangevoer kan word dat die gees wat kulturele studies in Engeland geanimeer het sedert die vyftiger- en sestigerjare in die VSA bestaan ​​het, in ondergrondse tydskrifte en die alternatiewe pers. Die Amerikaanse fantasie van die sogenaamde 'klaslose' samelewing het altyd 'kultuur' 'n effens ander betekenis gegee as wat dit in Engeland gehad het, waar sosiale trajekte meer rigied was. Waarmee geleerdes soos Hall eintlik gereken het, was die 'Amerikaanse fase' van die Britse lewe. Na die Tweede Wêreldoorlog was Engeland nie meer die "paradigma -geval" van die Westerse industriële samelewing nie. Amerika, daardie grootse eksperiment, waar massamedia en verbruikerskultuur vryelik vermeerder het, het die voorbode geword van wat kom. In 'n land waar lappies-tot-rykdom-mobiliteit-of so is ons geneig om ons voor te stel-net 'n slag weg is, gaan kultuur oor wat jy in die wêreld wil projekteer, of jy nou as 'n lid van die elite of as 'n alleman is bied u interpretasie van Shakespeare of van "The Matrix." As kultuur oor self-mode gaan, is daar selfs ruimte om 'n aardse miljardêr te wees.

Hoe het ons tot hierdie hede gekom, met ons verbeelding beperk deur 'n algemene moontlikheid wat ons nie gekies het nie? 'Selected Political Writings', die ander boek van Hall se werk wat Duke as deel van sy reeks gepubliseer het, fokus grootliks op die lang Britse fase van Hall se lewe. Die sentrale opstel is "The Great Moving Right Show", sy analise uit 1979 van Margaret Thatcher se "outoritêre populisme." Haar opkoms was net so 'n kulturele keerpunt as 'n politieke, volgens Hall, 'n vyandskap teenoor die sukkelende massas, verduister deur die geprojekteerde houding van haar platform van taai, Victoriaanse matigheid. Baie van die stukke in hierdie versameling wentel om die onderwerp "gesonde verstand", hoe kultuur en politiek saam 'n idee versterk van wat op 'n gegewe tydstip aanvaarbaar is.

Dit was die eenvoudige vraag in die hart van Hall se komplekse, soms digte werk. Hy het een van die groot openbare intellektuele van sy tyd geword, 'n aktivis vir sosiale geregtigheid en teen die verspreiding van kernkrag, 'n konstante teenwoordigheid op Britse radio en televisie - alhoewel hierdie werk slegs kortliks in 'Familiar Stranger' genoem word. Net so noem hy nie die marxisme, sy belangrikste intellektuele raamwerk nie, tot in die laaste hoofstukke van die boek. In plaas daarvan fokus hy, net soos in baie van sy meer tradisionele geleerdhede, op sy veranderende gevoel van sy eie konteks. Kultuur is immers 'n kwessie van die bou van 'n verhouding tussen jouself en die wêreld. "Mense moet 'n taal hê om te praat oor waar hulle is en watter ander moontlike toekoms hulle beskikbaar het," het hy opgemerk in sy 1983 -lesings. 'Hierdie toekoms is moontlik nie werklik nie, as u dit onmiddellik probeer konkretiseer, sal u agterkom dat daar niks is nie. Maar wat daar is, wat werklik is, is die moontlikheid om iemand anders te wees, om in 'n ander sosiale ruimte te wees van die een waarin u reeds geplaas is. " Hy kon sy eie selfontwaking beskryf het.


Die onvoltooide gesprek: Stuart Hall in dialoog met geskiedenis

Stuart Hall was 'n in Jamaika gebore kultuurteoretikus, politieke aktivis en openbare intellektueel wat in die Verenigde Koninkryk gewoon en gewerk het van 1951 tot sy afsterwe in 2014. Hy is bekend as 'n stigter van Cultural Studies en 'n invloedryke denker van die Britse New Links. By sy aankoms uit Engeland van Jamaika om aan die Universiteit van Oxford te studeer, voel Hall 'n gevoel van vervreemding wat 'n persoonlike en teoretiese verkenning veroorsaak het wat hom uiteindelik met die New Left verbind het. Die sosiopolitieke elitisme, sowel as die waardes, ideologieë en denkstelsels wat hy in sy universiteitstudies gevind het, voel verwyderd van sy eie lewenservaring. Beïnvloed deur sy belyning met die ontheemde migrantegemeenskappe van Oxford, sowel as die politieke uitlokkinge van 1956 - gekenmerk deur gebeurtenisse soos die Sowjet -onderdrukking van die Hongaarse revolusie en die inval in Egipte deur Israel, Frankryk en die Verenigde Koninkryk - is Hall aangespoor om die Nuwe Linkses, wat jare lank sy politieke tuiste sou word.

Die New Left was 'n breë politieke beweging wat in die 1960's en 1970's gestalte gekry het. In contrast to earlier Marxist movements that focused more centrally on issues of class struggle, the New Left focused on a wide range of issues such as civil rights, gay rights, gender roles, and labor organization, among others. Hall was the first editor of the influential New Left Review, a journal that analyzed world politics, the global economy, protest movements, and contemporary social theory, philosophy, and culture. Out of the New Left emerged Cultural Studies, which was to become a discipline in its own right. It had at its foundation a commitment to take popular cultural and artistic production seriously, tracing the interweaving threads of culture, politics, and power.

When British artist John Akomfrah wanted to create a project exploring the transmutation and transformation of the black image over time, he deemed Stuart Hall to be the perfect vehicle to examine these ideas. Hall occupied a unique position, not only as a thinker who reflected seriously on the politics of the aesthetic landscape — which he believed shaped rather than merely represented power — but also as a theorist whose monumental contributions were deeply rooted in his personal experience.

It is important to note Hall’s hesitation with being a subject of Akomfrah’s work, for he was someone who resisted being the center of attention, always preferring to speak of the collaborative elements of the work that he was a part of. So, on the occasion of John Akomfrah’s The Unfinished Conversation (2012) — featured in the exhibition Unfinished Conversations: New Work from the Collection — a panel gathered at The Museum of Modern Art in March 2017 to discuss the legacies of Stuart Hall. These personal traits of Hall, which emerged throughout the night, were equally significant takeaways, as was learning about his work. For those of us who did not know him personally, we were introduced to Stuart Hall as a teacher, a mentor, and a friend.In an audience comprised of artists, curators, collectors, and cultural thinkers whose work and interests lie at the intersection of race, politics, and critical theory, a sense of community emerged: a community centered on people responding to — and contending with — Stuart Hall’s ideas and their relevance today.

John Akomfrah. Still from“The Unfinished Conversation.” 2012. Three-channel video (color, sound), 45 min. The Museum of Modern Art, New York.The Contemporary Arts Council of the Museum of Modern Art, The Friends of Education of The Museum of Modern Art, and through the generosity of Bilge Ogut and Haro Cumbusyan. Image © Smoking Dogs Films courtesy Lisson Gallery

Hall’s political investment in the New Left came from the need to provide compelling alternatives to the rise of Great Britain’s conservative right — represented by Margaret Thatcher — that would center multiculturalism, civil rights, and environmentalism. This concern for a Left that was able to examine sociopolitical conditions and offer viable trajectories rings as true today as it did at the end of the 1960s. When John Akomfrah was asked about what one could borrow from Stuart Hall to help navigate the global rise of Right-wing populist regimes, Akomfrah highlighted Hall’s insistence on the historical being a vital component of the conversation. So the question then becomes: What kind of relationship to the historical did Stuart Hall push forth?

At the panel, John Akomfrah highlighted a quote from Hall’s Cultural Identity and Diaspora: “Cultural identities come from somewhere, they have histories. But like everything else that is historical, they undergo constant transformation. Far from being externally fixed in some essentialized past, they are subject to the continuous play of history, culture, and power. Far from being the mere recovery of a past, waiting to be found, and once found will secure our sense of self into eternity, identities are the different names we give to the different ways we are positioned by, and position ourselves within the narratives of the past.” This view presents us with a history that is unfixed, a history that is rewritten every time that it is told. The past becomes ever-shifting.

Stuart Hall’s constant self-questioning produced his rigorous and thoughtful body of work, manifested in his ongoing relationship to Marxism. Hall felt that the Marxist emphasis on class hindered the ability to consider other influences — such as race or gender — on the formation of power. The fact that Hall did not take on Marxism as an identity, but rather a framework that was more or less useful at different moments in time, allowed for him to question and revise its tenets to allow for many of the ideas that would become central to the New Left.

Stuart Hall argued that political identities were formed in discourse: Identity was a narrative dependent on how we positioned ourselves in relation to others. Identity to Hall — religious, national, ethnic, cultural — was “a matter of becoming as well as being…” belonging “to the future as well as to the past.” On the other hand, institutions of power often strive to fix the meaning of difference, presenting difference as boundless and eternal a fundamental truth that could not be changed or understood otherwise. That premise was used for a variety of political projects that were predicated upon othering those who held various identities, linking that identity to an innate violent nature or a fundamental, unreconciled otherness.

Hall’s insistence on the historical was a tool to resist endings and neat categorizations, forcing us to consider how there must be another way. This desire to resist endings is echoed by the formal qualities of Akomfrah’s work. He has designated The Unfinished Conversation not as a film, but as a project, which instantly conveys an ongoing examination. As Kobena Mercer put it speaking of the title of Akomfrah’s work, “[it is]a commitment that is not exhausted by meeting a goal.” The structure of the piece forces us to think and rethink our relationship to the subjects and narrative portrayed. The multi-channel installation conveys a sense of the multiple migrations of the image. Here, Akomfrah is exploring other, non-Aristotelian ways of storytelling. The logic of simultaneity that multi-screen pieces offer creates a more democratic viewing experience, which invites participation and interrogation of the history presented.

Writing against the staunch march of history, into a space that offers multiplicity, fluidity, and thereby possibility, feels as important today as it ever was. Perhaps through an insistence on questions of temporality, one can come to understand the constructed nature of our circumstances, breathing imagination into how they could be configured otherwise.

John Akomfrah’s The Unfinished Conversation was part of MoMA’s Unfinished Conversations: New Work from the Collection, which brought together works by more than a dozen artists, made in the past decade and recently acquired by The Museum of Modern Art. The exhibition was on view March 19–July 30, 2017.


Stuart Hall and the Freedom of Diaspora

Saree Makdisi is professor of English and comparative literature at UCLA. He is the author of, among other books, Palestine Inside Out: An Everyday Occupation (2008) and Making England Western: Occidentalism, Race and Imperial Culture (2014).

Saree Makdisi Stuart Hall and the Freedom of Diaspora. Die geskiedenis van die hede 1 April 2020 10 (1): 135–139. doi: https://doi.org/10.1215/21599785-8221479

Beginning with the title itself, Stuart Hall’s Familiar Stranger: A Life between Two Islands offers not merely a meditation on the cultural logic of dislocation but also a carefully articulated defense of that dislocation as a powerful antidote to the ugly and repressive forces of cultural and national identity. The emphasis here is on the space of the between: what it means to truly belong neither here nor there (Jamaica and England in Hall’s case), and how what might threaten to turn into a narrative of loss (exclusion, lack, homesickness, nostalgia, alienation, etc.) is gradually redeemed into a narrative that locates the value of the between as a site from which to contemplate the most compelling forms of intellectual and hence political freedom. There is a warning here, too: a warding away of the palpable dangers of identity politics and in particular.


Deel

I n this lecture I will address questions of Caribbean culture and identity. I want to suggest that such questions are not in any sense separate or removed from the problems of political mobilization, of cultural development, of economic development and so on. The more we know and see of the struggles of the societies of the periphery to make something of the slender resources available to them, the more important we understand the questions and problems of cultural identity to be in that process. I want to examine some of the themes of a topic which has been richly explored by Caribbean writers and artists—cultural identity presenting itself always as a problem to Caribbean people. footnote 1

Why it should be a problem is not a mystery, but I want to probe this question of identity and why Caribbean writers, politicians, civic leaders, artists and others have been unable to leave worrying away at it. And in doing so, I want to problematize to some extent the way we think about

identity. I want to explore the term ‘myth’ itself—the English are not good at myth, always opposing it on the one hand to reality, on the other hand to truth, as if you have to choose between them. I specifically do not want to choose between myth and reality, but to talk about the very real contemporary and historical effects of myths of identity. And I want to do so with one other purpose which I hope will come through more clearly at the end. The issue of cultural identity as a political quest now constitutes one of the most serious global problems as we go into the twenty-first century. The re-emergence of questions of ethnicity, of nationalism—the obduracy, the dangers and the pleasures of the rediscovery of identity in the modern world, inside and outside of Europe—places the question of cultural identity at the very centre of the contemporary political agenda. What I want to suggest is that despite the dilemmas and vicissitudes of identity through which Caribbean people have passed and continue to pass, we have a tiny but important message for the world about how to negotiate identity.

There is a very clear and powerful discourse about cultural identity, especially in the West. Indeed most of us have lived through, and are still living through an exercise in the definition and defence of a particular kind of British cultural identity. I was puzzled when Norman Tebbit asked which cricket team you would support, in order to discover whether you were ‘one of us’, ‘one of them’ or maybe neither. My own response to that was, if you can tell me how many of the four hundred members of the British athletics team are properly British, I’d be ready to answer the question about the cricket team otherwise not. But the discourse of identity suggests that the culture of a people is at root—and the question of roots is very much at issue—a question of its essence, a question of the fundamentals of a culture. Histories come and go, peoples come and go, situations change, but somewhere down there is throbbing the culture to which we all belong. It provides a kind of ground for our identities, something to which we can return, something solid, something fixed, something stabilized, around which we can organize our identities and our sense of belongingness. And there is a sense that modern nations and peoples cannot survive for long and succeed without the capacity to touch ground, as it were, in the name of their cultural identities.

Now the question of what a Caribbean cultural identity might be has been of extraordinary importance, before but especially in the twentieth century. Partly because of the dislocations of conquest, of colonization and slavery, partly because of the colonial relationship itself and the distortions of living in a world culturally dependent and dominated from some centre outside the place where the majority of people lived. But it has also been important for counter-identities, providing sources on which the important movements of decolonization, of independence, of nationalist consciousness in the region have been founded. In a sense,

until it is possible to state who the subjects of independence movements are likely to be, and in whose name cultural decolonization is being conducted, it is not possible to complete the process. And that process involves the question of defining who the people are. In Black Skin White Masks, Fanon speaks of what he calls ‘a passionate research directed to the secret hope of discovering beyond the misery of today, beyond self-contempt, resignation and abjuration, some beautiful and splendid area whose existence rehabilitates us both in regard to ourselves and others’. And as I’ve said, that passionate research by Caribbean writers, artists and political leaders, that quest for identity, has been the very form in which much of our artistic endeavour in all the Caribbean languages has been conducted in this century.

Why, then, is the identity of the Caribbean so problematic? It is a very large question, but let me suggest some of the reasons. First of all, if the search for identity always involves a search for origins, it is impossible to locate in the Caribbean an origin for its peoples. The indigenous peoples of the area very largely no longer exist, and they ceased to exist very soon after the European encounter. This is indeed the first trauma of identity in the Caribbean. I don’t know how many of you know what the coat of arms of Jamaica is. It has two Arawak Indian figures supporting a shield in the middle, which is crossed by pineapples surmounted by an alligator. Peter Hulme reports that in 1983 the then prime minister of Jamaica, Edward Seaga, wanted to change the coat of arms on the ground that he could not find represented in it a single recognizable Jamaican identity. ‘Can the crushed and extinct Arawaks,’ he asked, ‘represent the dauntless inhabitants of Jamaica? Does the low-slung near-extinct crocodile, a cold-blooded reptile, symbolize the warm soaring spirits of Jamaicans? Where does the pineapple, which was exported to Hawaii, appear prominently either in our history or in our folklore?’ I read that quote simply to remind you that questions of identity are always questions about representation. They are always questions about the invention, not simply the discovery of tradition. They are always exercises in selective memory and they almost always involve the silencing of something in order to allow something else to speak.

Maurice Cargill, a famous commentator on Jamaican affairs in The Gleaner, responded to the prime minister, ‘What about a design containing entwined marijuana plants? Against a background of us dollar bills with tourists rampant and ladies couchant?’ Silencing as well as remembering, identity is always a question of producing in the future an account of the past, that is to say it is always about narrative, the stories which cultures tell themselves about who they are and where they came from. The one way in which it is impossible to resolve the problem of identity in the Caribbean is to try looking at it, as if a good look will tell you who the people are. During the period in which I was preparing my bbc series on the Caribbean, I had the occasion in a relatively short space of time to visit a large number of Caribbean islands, several of which I had not seen before. I was absolutely staggered by the ethnic and cultural diversity I encountered. Not a single Caribbean island looks like any other in terms of its ethnic composition, including the different genetic and

physical features and characteristics of the people. And that is before you start to touch the question of different languages, different cultural traditions, which reflect the different colonizing cultures.

It may be a surprise to some people in this room that there are several Caribbean islands, large ones, in which blacks are nowhere near a majority of the population. There are now two important ex-British Caribbean societies where Indians are in a majority. In Cuba, what you are struck by first of all is the long persistence of white Hispanic settlement and then of the mestizo population, only later of the black population. Haiti, which is in some ways the symbolic island of black culture, where one feels closer to the African inheritance than anywhere else, has a history in which the mulattos have played an abolutely vital and key historical role. Martinique is a bewildering place, it is in my experience more French than Paris, just slightly darker. The Dominican Republic is a place where it is possible to feel closer to Spain and to the Spanish tradition of Latin America than anywhere else I have been in the Caribbean. The melting-pot of the British islands produced everywhere you look a different combination of genetic features and factors, and in each island elements of other ethnic cultures—Chinese, Syrian, Lebanese, Portuguese, Jewish—are present. I know because I have a small proportion of practically all of them in my own inheritance. My background is African, also I’m told Scottish—of pretty low descent, probably convict—East Indian, Portuguese Jew. I can’t summon up any more but if I searched hard I expect I could find them.


Stuart Hall obituary

When the writer and academic Richard Hoggart founded the Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies at Birmingham University in 1964, he invited Stuart Hall, who has died aged 82, to join him as its first research fellow. Four years later Hall became acting director and, in 1972, director. Cultural studies was then a minority pursuit: half a century on it is everywhere, generating a wealth of significant work even if, in its institutionalised form, it can include intellectual positions that Hall could never endorse.

The foundations of cultural studies lay in an insistence on taking popular, low-status cultural forms seriously and tracing the interweaving threads of culture, power and politics. Its interdisciplinary perspectives drew on literary theory, linguistics and cultural anthropology in order to analyse subjects as diverse as youth sub-cultures, popular media and gendered and ethnic identities – thus creating something of a model, for example, for the Guardian’s own G2 section.

Hall was always among the first to identify key questions of the age, and routinely sceptical about easy answers. A spellbinding orator and a teacher of enormous influence, he never indulged in academic point-scoring. Hall’s political imagination combined vitality and subtlety in the field of ideas he was tough, ready to combat positions he believed to be politically dangerous. Yet he was unfailingly courteous, generous towards students, activists, artists and visitors from across the globe, many of whom came to love him. Hall won accolades from universities worldwide, despite never thinking of himself as a scholar. Universities offered him a base from which he could teach – a source of great pleasure for him – and collaborate with others in public debate.

He was born in Kingston, into an aspiring Jamaican family. His father, Herman, was the first non-white person to hold a senior position – chief accountant – with United Fruit in Jamaica. Jessie, his formidable mother, had white forebears and identified with the ethos of an imaginary, distant Britain. Hall received a classical English education at Jamaica College in Kingston – while allying himself with the struggle for independence from colonial rule.

But he found the country’s racial and colonial restrictions intolerable and an escape presented itself when he won a Rhodes scholarship to study at Oxford University. He arrived in Britain in 1951, part of the large-scale Caribbean migration that had begun symbolically with the arrival of the Empire Windrush three years earlier. Hall recalled that when he took the train from Bristol to Paddington station in London, he saw a landscape familiar to him from the novels of Thomas Hardy.

However, if Britain was a culture he knew from the inside, it was also one he never entirely felt part of, always imagining himself a “familiar stranger”. At Merton College, studying English, he experienced this sense of displacement, his enthusiasms – for a new politics, for bebop, for a world alive to the values of human difference – incomprehensible to the cavalry-twilled former public schoolboys who surrounded him.

As his time in Britain lengthened, so his identifications with blackness deepened. Ambivalent about his relation both to his place of departure and to his place of arrival, he sought to survive the medieval gloom of Oxford by making common cause with the city’s displaced migrant minority. Out of these new attachments, and out of the political cataclysm of 1956 – marked by the Anglo-French-Israeli invasion of Egypt and by the Soviet suppression of the Hungarian revolution – emerged the new left, in which Hall was an influential figure: it provided him with a political home. At this point he found himself “dragged backwards into Marxism, against the tanks in Budapest” – and, if his Marxism came “without guarantees”, it was nonetheless a vital part of him to the end.

In 1957 these issues became the catalyst for the launching of the Universities and Left Review, in which Hall was an active presence, and which subsequently merged with the New Reasoner to form the New Left Review, of which Hall was the founding editor. Abandoning his thesis on Henry James, he moved to London. By day he worked as a supply teacher in Brixton and, late into the night, on the Soho-based NLR. In 1961, he became a lecturer in film and media at Chelsea College, London University. Brixton and Soho had proved congenial to him where Oxford had not, and he began his work on popular culture. The Popular Arts (1964), co-authored with Paddy Whannel, opened a field of inquiry he was to develop at Birmingham.

On the 1963 Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament march from Aldermaston to London, Hall met Catherine Barrett, and they married the following year. With his appointment to the CCCS they moved to Birmingham where their two children, Becky and Jess, were born, and where they lived until 1979. During these years Catherine became an acclaimed historian, and the marriage proved to be a source of great mutual love and support. Their homes, in Birmingham and then in London, were welcoming places, drawing in their many friends.

In Birmingham, under Hall’s charismatic leadership – and on a shoestring budget – cultural studies took off. But as Hoggart remarked, Hall rarely used the first person singular, preferring to speak of the collaborative aspects of the work. His energy was prodigious and he shifted the terms of debate on the media, deviancy, race, politics, Marxism and critical theory.

While there are no single-authored, scholarly monographs to his name, Hall produced an astonishing array of collectively written and edited volumes, essays and journalism – translated into many languages – as well as countless political speeches, and radio and television talks.

In 1979 he became professor of sociology at the Open University, attracted by the possibility of reaching out to those who had fallen through the conventional educational system. He remained there until 1998 – later becoming emeritus professor – launching a series of courses in communications and sociology. Increasingly, he focused on questions of race and postcolonialism, and on theorising the migrant view of Britain that he had always cherished.

The move to the OU coincided with the election victory of Margaret Thatcher. Before the election, Hall, convinced that the emergence of this new Conservatism marked a profound cleavage in British political history, coined the term Thatcherism, in a visionary article in Marxism Today. Drawing both on his long involvement with Antonio Gramsci’s theorisation of the forms of political hegemony and on the collaborative CCCS volume Policing the Crisis (1978), he emphasised the role of race in Thatcherite politics, particularly in relation to the creed of law and order which he characterised as “authoritarian populism”.

In The Politics of Thatcherism (1983), he insisted that the left’s traditional statism was in part responsible for creating the conditions that had allowed the Thatcherites to win ascendancy, pointing to the degree to which Thatcherism had rooted itself in authentically popular sentiment – something he believed the left had failed to do. This generated fierce controversy among those who might otherwise have been among his political allies. His conviction that Thatcherism would define the politically possible, long after Thatcher herself had departed, proved enormously prescient, providing a key to understanding the politics not only of New Labour, but also of the subsequent coalition.

Hall, a campaigner for racial justice, was invited to join many official, and unofficial, public bodies. From 1997 to 2000 he served on the Runnymede Commission on the Future of Multi-Ethnic Britain, and was shocked by the media reaction to the commission’s observation that the idea of Britain itself was racially far from innocent. He knew that the persistence of race thinking ran deep among the British.

He enjoyed university life but was relieved to relinquish his full-time academic role. This presented him with another opportunity to reinvent himself, by then in alliance with young artists and film-makers, exploring the politics of black subjectivity. A new Hall emerged, evident in catalogue introductions and workshop discussions in galleries in Britain and across Europe.

Once again he collaborated with – and learned from – people considerably younger than himself, chairing Autograph (the Association of Black Photographers) and the International Institute of Visual Arts. He was proud that he helped secure funding for Rivington Place, in Hoxton, east London, a location dedicated to public education in multicultural issues, drawing from contemporary art and photography. His involvement in the movement for black arts gave him a new lease of intellectual life. This Stuart Hall was reflected in the history of his life and work produced by the film-maker John Akomfrah, in the form of a much lauded gallery installation, The Unfinished Conversation (2012), and in a widely distributed film, The Stuart Hall Project (2013), which brought Hall to the attention of a new generation.

Latterly Hall’s health, always more precarious than he let on, declined he had to face intensive dialysis and later, at an advanced age, a kidney transplant. This ate up his time and energy, gradually constraining his mobility and his ability to take part in public life. But to the end, he held court at home to an endless stream of visitors keen to discuss the politics of contemporary times.

Under New Labour he became increasingly furious that managerialism was hollowing out public life, and increasingly pessimistic about the global situation. Yet he was cheered that “someone with Hussein for a middle name” was sitting in the White House and, after the credit crunch, was mesmerised by the sight of capitalism falling apart of its own accord. Throughout, he maintained an optimism of the will, and as late as last year he and his colleagues on Soundings magazine were producing manifestos for a post-neoliberal politics.


Stuart Hall - History

A Tribute from the Centre for Caribbean Thought
Over the past week there have been many tributes to the Jamaican born thinker Stuart Hall. We at the Centre for Caribbean Thought remember the 2004 conference , “ Culture , Politics , Race and Diaspora: The Thought of Stuart Hall,” where with mesmerizing eloquence Hall addressed ideas about thinking, activism, the Caribbean Diaspora , politics and the complex relationships between culture , race, class and power.

When we invited Hall in 2003 and informed him that his work would be the subject of a “Caribbean Reasonings Conference” his initial response, typical of his character was that he had not written much on the Caribbean that his work was not of the kind like that of Lamming or CLR James . Yet in a lecture delivered at the 50th anniversary of the University of West Indies, Hall had noted that the 1998 event occurred at the same time as the 50th anniversary of the docking of the SS Empire Windrush in the UK. That landing began a new history of post war Caribbean migration to the UK.

Hall arrived in the UK as a Rhodes Scholar in 1951. His life was a Caribbean life away, a diasporic life in which the new meanings of home were constructed while retaining echoes of the former home. How could one forget the 1991 seven part documentary series which he narrated , Redemption Song that deeply explored the past and present of the Caribbean? Hall was a Caribbean intellectual, one who was part and parcel of the post war Afro- Caribbean migration experience. That he did not return “home “ like others , George Lamming , or Sylvia Wynter ( who returned for a while ) and others did not mean that he was not Caribbean . What it meant was that the Caribbean was now working through a different geographical and cultural location. He himself noted: “The fate of the Caribbean people living in the UK, the USA or Canada is no more “external” to Caribbean history than the Empire was “external” to the so called domestic history of Britain.”

Living at the heart of the British colonial empire in its dying days and on the cusp of regional political independence was both a formidable intellectual and political challenge for Hall. These challenges remained with him for a long time and as he said in an interview in 2012, “I am not quite English.” Hall’s preoccupation with Diaspora and race emerged out of this conundrum which he navigated. There is profound connection between Hall’s life and his writings and thinking about Diaspora and race for as he once said in a debate with a conservative political figure in London. “You cannot have at the back of your head what I have in mine. You once owned me on a plantation.” When Hall became involved in British left politics it was at a moment when orthodox Marxism was reeling from the exposures and revelations of the brutalities of Stalinism.

If in 1956 , another Caribbean figure , Aime Cesaire resigned from the French Communist Party stating that not only the bodies murdered by Stalin were an eloquent testimony to the negative practices of orthodox communism but that the colonial and race problems required new and different readings of how societies were constituted , Hall along with others in 1960 founded the New Left Review as one attempt to construct a new left politics. This desire to construct a different left politics which was not a distant cousin of orthodox Marxism (what he would call in 1986 in an article on ideology, “Marxism without guarantees”) was critical to Hall’s intellectual and political life. Indeed his work as the central founder of the field of “Cultural Studies” at Birmingham University was not so much about a study of the popular but more about thinking around the relationships between power and culture. It was to understand culture as a complex phenomenon which was always contested but importantly he believed that one could not think politically without grappling with the yeast of culture. It was this understanding which made it possible for him to coin the term “ Thatcherism “ as a hegemonic cluster of ideas which were not just political but deeply rooted in the cultural and social history of Britain.

Hall’s political thinking in recent years was to grapple with the ideas inaugurated by Thatcher and others and what he called a year ago the “neo-liberal revolution.” He reminds us that Thatcher once said, “the object is to change the soul “ In grappling with this new ideological configuration, Hall posited two sets of ideas amongst many which might be in part legacies for us today. The first is the notion of contingency. The idea that social and political life is not fixed, that there is no formal closure and therefore there is fluidity in what seems fixed and frozen. It is an important idea because it always means that in the darkest of times there are always “points of light.” The second is one which he took from the Italian political thinker, Antonio Gramsci -- the idea of “common sense.” His challenge to us was that we should understand how common sense gets formed. In an article written by himself and Alan O ‘ Shea in December 2013 , he argued that the “ assumption that everyone is obviously going to agree with what is being proposed is in fact a means of securing that agreement.” He also noted that the idea that “we all share common sense values … is a powerful legitimation strategy. “

That months before his death Hall and others worked on the Kilburn Manifesto a document about the possibilities of renewing the left in Britain is indicative of a force field of determination. But perhaps even more so it was indicative of his deep desire to confront the world as we know it and challenge its assumptions. In London, Hall’s contribution to visual culture is well known particularly his work with the group of Black Photographers and the establishment of Rivington Place. Hall had that rare gift of discerning the contours of the world in which we live. With unmatched generosity he worked across generations. He was open to the future and to the possibilities of a different world as he practiced a form of engaged listening and dialogue . For those of us at the Centre for Caribbean Thought he is a seminal figure and thinker of the 20th century.


Stuart Hall (1932-2014)

News arrived this morning that the great sociologist and cultural theorist Stuart Hall has passed away an excellent obituary can be found at Die voog. Although the focus of his work was, in a sense, far from U.S. intellectual history, I think it’s fair to say that his scholarship and career have nevertheless been hugely important for many U.S. intellectual historians. At the time I was in graduate school in the late 1980s, his influence in this country was being felt particularly strongly. History had taken a “cultural turn,” and English departments were focusing more and more of their attention on cultural studies. And Hall was one of the founding figures of cultural studies.

Jamaican-born and raised, Hall came to Merton College, Oxford, on a Rhodes Scholarship in 1951, a moment when the first great wave of West Indian immigration to Britain was taking place. In 1960, he helped co-found New Left Review and over the next few years, along with Raymond Williams, wrote pioneering articles about the study of culture in its pages. In 1964, Richard Hoggart, who had just created the Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies at the University of Birmingham, invited Hall to become its first faculty member. In 1968, Hall became the Acting Director of CCCS in 1972, he became its director.[1] Hall and the Birmingham School became known for their distinctive, Gramscian approach to the study of popular, which took seriously the multiple and competing ways that people can and do read popular cultural texts. This approach very notably rejected the assumptions of both the Frankfurt School and some mid-century American cultural critics like Dwight Macdonald and Clement Greenberg, who often saw in mass culture little more than empty kitsch and the (often successful) attempt by dominant classes to control the thoughts and feelings of the masses.

As his early involvement with NLR suggests, Hall was also a model of an engaged scholar.[2] One of the first major Black British public intellectuals, Hall was an important voice for multiculturalism in a country that has, at times, been reluctant to embrace its growing ethnic and racial diversity. In a tribute on The Root, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., describes Hall as “the Dubois of Britain.” In recent years, Hall had been particularly critical of the willingness of the British left to embrace the assumptions of the right. For a sense of how vibrant Hall remained in his analysis of the British political scene, check out “Common-sense neoberalism” (co-written with Alan O’Shea), which appeared in the Winter 2013 issue of the journal Soundings.

But though Hall was a towering figure in cultural studies, and cultural studies, in turn, was a constant topic of conversation among young historians in the 1980s, in my graduate program we read very little by Stuart Hall. I think the only time I was actually assigned an essay by Hall was in an English grad course I audited, Andrew Ross’s seminar on cultural theory. IIRC, we read the essay on “Encoding and Decoding in the Television Discourse.”

I always like scholarly obituary posts to become open threads for the discussion of the work of the person celebrated in them. This is particularly the case with this post. Though I can – with a little help from the Voog obituary linked above – recite the highlights of Stuart Hall’s career and though I have a strong sense of his intellectual significance, my relationship to his work is, in general, more second-hand than it should be. I know, however, that he’s one of the giants on whose shoulders anyone working in intellectual and cultural history stands (indeed, that he is one of the reasons that we often label our sub-field “intellectual and cultural history” at all).

[1] In 2002, long after Hall had left to take a post at the Open University, the CCCS became one of the first victims of the neoliberal restructuring of British academia, when, following a poor grade on the Research Assessment Exercise, the University of Birmingham engaged in a “restructuring” that simply eliminated CCCS along with the Department of Sociology. In recent decades, the UK has been the world innovator when it comes to draconian higher education “reform.” The closing of CCCS was immediately (and correctly) seen as a cautionary tale throughout British academia. It may well become one for American academia in the near the future, too.

[2] This remembrance from Tariq Ali focuses on how central politics was to Hall’s scholarship.


Kyk die video: Globalization u0026 Diaspora - STUART HALL: THROUGH THE PRISM OF AN INTELLECTUAL LIFE