The Tiffany Problem

Since hearing about the tiffany problem, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. The problem, coined by writer Jo Walton, refers to the tension between historical fact and the popular perception of history. The example Walton uses is that of the name Tiffany. Whilst most people assume Tiffany is a modern name, conjuring up images of Audrey Hepburn singing Moon River, it actually has a long pedigree, found as far back as 12th century Britain and France as a variant of Theophania (Greek for God’s appearance, taking the name from the Feast day Epiphany celebrated by Christians, though having Greek origins). 

Part of this of course is that Tiffany was a common baby name in the 80s at number 11 most popular in the U.S. Yet it also speaks to the ways in which most of us view history in concrete blocks with clear distinctions between different periods. We think of things that are still with us today as modern when there is a large amount of continuity between different eras.

Jo Walton originally coined the phrase as essentially a writer’s problem: trying to write a historical novel can be challenging as people's lack of understanding about historical periods make the truth seem dubious. There is a difference between the history in popular stories and reality.

  But I think it also relates to how we view history. I read a brilliant line by Ashley Jackson  about historians of the British Empire who try to prevent ‘the chaos of the contemporary to intrude upon the neat lawns of the historical past.’ He was referencing the fact that many historians of the British empire see the empire as essentially finished off in the 1960s, thus making anything after this period the shadow of an imperial legacy, an Indian summer of imperialism. Such concrete delineations between periods however do a disservice to the continuance of British imperialism such that any distinct cut off point is suspect. Yet this applies to much of the way we are all taught history growing up and many still conventionally think: Most people might laugh at the idea that historians debate when World War II really started, but it cuts to the heart of how messy history is: there are rarely clear cut beginnings and endings. And the attempt to make history clear cut often ignores the continuity and sense of contingency, of one event building on another building on another building on another. So although the generally agreed upon start date of WWII is 1st September 1939  historians cite other events as being the first ‘acts’ of WWII, whether that be the Japanese invasion of Manchuria in 1931, the Spanish civil war from 1936-1939, or Hitler’s occupation of the Rhineland in 1936. It is not that the date of 1939 is wrong, but it clearly does not capture the whole story. Whenever an event or process is given a concrete start and end date often there is something that is lost, something that would make that period perhaps harder to understand but more accurate. Of course part of this is necessary evil, for a start it makes pub quizzes much easier to run. But it is always best to remember that any clear cut off points in history are low-resolution ideas at best

 Another aspect of this phenomenon is clearly our ability to retain information. Whole libraries could be filled with books written on single events or people like Adolf Hitler or the French Revolution. Yet for everyone other than those who specialize in such topics, the best we can hope for is to grasp a few key themes and ideas that tell us all we need to know. It is this fact that actually makes me quite skeptical about teaching empire, or any aspect of history in any kind of morally significant way. But it’s a recognition that almost anything we know of history outside of our specialist topics is heavily fragmented and incomplete. 

It is the irony of University that the higher we go up the learning pyramid, the more and more specialist and niche the subject content is. Thus, to have a better understanding of history is not necessarily an increase in all the details but a greater understanding both of themes and human nature whilst recognizing our profound ignorance: to delight in being wrong about history. Personally, there is nothing I enjoy more than having my preconceptions about a specific period, person or event confounded through a different perspective or a nugget of information. it was only recently that I learned of pederasty in Ancient Greece, a common practice of adult males having relationships with teen boys. Of course, it is slightly more complicated than this simple sentence might convey. But for me, it was a widening of perspective and an improved view of both Ancient Greece and our perspectives of history. A tendency to view history as linear gives us a tendency to see things that have only recently become acceptable in a modern society like homosexual behaviour (though that is not how the Greeks would have considered it) as being unable to have historical precedent. 

And thank goodness. As someone who revels in studying the past, I am grateful that the past, not just the future, is unpredictable.