One of my favourite pubs in my old stomping ground of St Albans has recently been targeted by PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals). Ye Olde Fighting Cocks, which claims to be the oldest pub in the UK, dating from the eighth century, has drawn criticism for its historic name. PETA spokesperson Dawn Carr has suggested the pub be re-named to Ye Olde Clever Cocks to reflect a change in society’s attitudes.
Ye Olde Fighting Cocks, St Albans |
The St Albans pub does indeed sit on the site of an old cock-pit. The round, sunken arena was still evident in the floor when I use to drink there. But although this brutal sport is occasionally still secretly organised in England, it was made illegal here in the 1830s. Today the Fighting Cocks does not celebrate or encourage cock-fighting any more than The Flying Pig in Cambridge promotes porcine parachutists, or London’s The Hung, Drawn and Quartered advocates a return to capital punishment. In fact the landlord, Christo Tofalli, claims that the Fighting Cocks is particularly animal friendly, being near the park and welcoming dogs.
Signpost to the historic cockpit inside Ye Olde Fighting Cocks, St Albans |
PETA may be a well-motivated organization, but their suggestion completely disregards the value of social history. Sanitizing our past exploitation of animals will do nothing to prevent future abuses; possibly the reverse. Beyond that, such heritage has inherent value, worthy of respect and protection, as landlord Tofalli appreciates. ‘This is an historic building with a remarkable story behind it’ he commented. It is a story that wants to share with locals and tourists and so, I am pleased to report, he is not planning a pub name-change soon.
Sometimes however the clash of interests and perspectives can be more difficult to negotiate. Last month the remains of a German soldier, believed to be those of Private Friedrich Brandt, were put on display in a Belgian museum. Private Brandt was not a soldier of the Second World War, nor even of the Great War before it, but of the Battle of Waterloo two hundred years ago. His skeleton, less skull but with the telling discovery of a French musket-ball between his ribs, was found, traditionally enough, under a car park near the battle-site. It was the curvature of the spine that led to his unofficial identification as Private Brandt, a twenty-three year old, known to have kyphosis, from Hanover. The skeleton was subsequently put on show at the ‘Waterloo Memorial 1815’ display in a Belgian museum.
Skeleton of the Waterloo soldier, believed to be Private Friedrich Brandt, Belgium |
Within days the respected military historian, Rob Schäfer, had launched a petition, Peace for Friedrich Brandt, asking to have the bones removed from display and respectfully reburied. Schäfer is able to picture the young Brandt in the early 1800s, feeling ‘as though he were on the adventure of a lifetime’ as he left his Hanover home to make his way to the ports of the German North Sea. He would have then ventured across the channel and completed his training in the - to him very alien - environment of East Sussex, before fighting alongside his English counterparts at Waterloo. ‘Friedrich’s compatriots would have buried him with honour’, Schäfer argues compellingly, before asking whether it is no less our duty to do the same.
Yet Françoise Scheepers, director of the Belgian Tourist Office for Brussels and Wallonia, has stated that the purpose of the memorial display was ‘not to shock but to pay tribute’. The museum is non-profit making, so there is no commercial exploitation. By humanizing the story of the Battle of Waterloo, their display hopes to engage young people with their history, helping them to appreciate that the soldiers were not just statistics but the ‘people made of flesh and bones’ with whom Schäfer can already empathise so well.
The Battle of Waterloo (Image courtesy of Rob Schaefer) |
More broadly, what is it that makes the display of Private Brandt’s remains so much more provocative than those of the Ancient Egyptians, or other human reliquary? At what point, if ever, and under what terms, do bones become historic artifact rather than human remains? Is it the relatively young age of Private Brandt's skeleton, or is it something else that makes this display seem so disrespectful, such as the familiarity of his name? Or is it the fact that we have marked so many military anniversaries recently and honoured so many dead, and because we have developed such a culture of respect for fallen military heroes?
Both animal rights and respect for human remains are important issues that comment on people’s capacity for empathy, altruism, and the value of respect. Engagement with history demands similar qualities. While we must be careful not to impose modern sensibilities on our appreciation of the past, without a degree of respect and an attempt at empathy, any engagement loses meaning. The only thing that is absolutely clear is that sometimes it is the dialogue we have with history itself that is as important as the facts and artifacts of the past. Unless we ask the questions, unless we consider, criticise and debate not just the facts and stories, but the interpretations placed upon them and the uses made of them, history will itself become dead and meaningless.
8 comments:
What a thoughtful and interesting post! I read it after reading a post over on An Awfully Big Blog Adventure (link at the side) about a set of cards which seeks to engage children (and adults) with how to interrogate assumptions (at least I think that's the aim!); the two posts seem to me to link together rather well.
I did exactly the same, Sue, and agree!
Good for Mr. Tofalli! One of my favourite pubs, where I drink and eat often, used to be called 'The Fighting Cocks' - a reflection of my area's history, as cockfighting was a popular sport of the local miners.
The pub was taken over and much improved in every way - which is why I'm in and out there all the time - but they changed the name! They called it 'The Swallow's Nest' and initially had a cutsey little sign, showing a swallow with a trowel of mortar, building its nest. Altogether now, Awwwww.
I feel strongly that the pub should have kept its original name - it was an old building and had been called The Fighting Cocks for a long time. Acknowledging that something happened in the past isn't the same as approving of it. Mr. Tofalli's pub is even older than my local, and it's even more ridiculous to change it, as it's actually built on the site of a cock-pit. Wishing him the strength to stick to his guns. (Maybe we should ban that expression too?)
About Private Brandt, I admit to more confused feelings. I don't suppose he has any opinion one way or the other - and does he have any surviving relatives who know that they're relatives?
I don't feel that displaying his bones is disrespectful in the same way as, say, displaying aboriginal bones, which were stolen from sacred sites - or whose original owners were even murdered.
But on the other hand, if Dick III can be dug up from a car-park, and then buried again at huge, pointless expense while 'austerity' in inflicted on the rest of us - why isn't the same done for Private Brandt? He was killed in a battle too. Why doesn't he get a state funeral?
Or, why isn't Dick III in a museum case? Some might say he's of even greater historical interest than Private Brandt
Why is it unthinkable to display one set of bones - while apparently hardly anyone thought twice about displaying the other set?
Is there a Ponder Wonder card to help us decide, do you think, Sue?
Well, the Ponder Wonder lady did ask for suggestions!
Yes, the ceremony around Richard III does make the apparent lack of ceremony around Private Brandt seem worse, although that discrepancy between the treatment royals and others exists in life as well as death. I hope a thorough examination was made of the royal bones however, before they were reburied, to see what we might learn from them.
Totally agree on your points about the "Fighting Cocks" : well said!
My early attempts to comment on my phone failed dismally…but yes, I heartily agree about pub signs - noting en route that 'Ye Olde Fighting Cocks' probably offers a decent pub cricket score, but nothing to 'The Duke of Wellington' if pictured at Waterloo - but still ponder-wondering about old bones. I think, as you say, the important thing is that discussions are had, especially with the young, and that there's part of the discussion is how gender, race and class as well as age of the bones affect the decisions people make about these things.
Great piece, Clare.
Thank you Liz, and thanks to all for commenting. Spot on Lydia, about gender, race and class as well as age of bones - how much we project onto this universal human structure!
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