Reading Early Modern Texts

Experiencing Political Texts is an historically-focused project centring on early modern works, but it also raises questions about the communication of political ideas today. The reading group that met at Newcastle’s Literary and Philosophical Society between October 2022 and June 2023 was an ideal forum in which to explore these issues. This blogpost reflects on some of the key themes that emerged out of our discussions.

One of the most inspiring of our nine sessions was that focused on the materiality of books. We each brought in a book of our own and talked about how we engage with it as a physical object. The examples were diverse, including: a family bible with annotations; a hymnal; a copy of Jane Eyre that had been used for teaching; and a battered favourite novel. We discussed the idea that reading is a multi-sensory experience and that we often want a book not just to be a pleasure to read, but also a pleasure to look at and to hold. This led to a deeper investigation of the ways in which different aspects of the material form impact on the reading experience. Specific details such as the size of the margins, the colour and thickness of the paper, the size of the type, and the tightness of the binding can all affect how easy (and therefore pleasurable) the book is to read. We also saw examples of books where the layout and design are themselves integral to the text – and even to the argument.

Infographic from the reading group session on Books as Physical Objects. Produced by Nifty Fox Creative 2023.

Viewing reading as a multi-sensory experience led us to open up the question of accessibility, and to recognise that this might work differently for different readers. Most members of the group preferred reading physical books to digital editions. In this case what makes a book accessible are features like its weight, size, and binding, which determine whether it is easy to hold and whether it lies flat when laid down. Yet, we acknowledged that for certain groups of people a digital copy might be more accessible. Not only do audio books make reading an option for the visually impaired, but even when reading on a device the ability to vary the size of the type or the colour of the display can also be an advantage for some readers. We also noted that this is not just about vision. Since an e-reader or a smartphone is lighter than most books, it might also be a better option for readers with physical weaknesses or impairments.

In other sessions we explored other aspects of accessibility. For example, the ways in which genre can affect how easy (or not) it is to engage with the ideas being presented. We discussed (and disagreed) about whether novels are a more accessible way of conveying political ideas and theories than straight political treatises or pamphlets. We also considered the ways in which dialogues can be used to engage the reader and draw them into the argument.

Infographic from the reading group session on Dialogues. Produced by Nifty Fox Creative 2022.

There was more agreement on the fact that the original copies of early modern texts are less accessible to modern audiences than recent editions. Issues such as the typeface, the size of the work, and especially the use of the long ‘s’ made some of the extracts we discussed difficult for the group members to read. Here too, though, there was an appreciation that different features can pull in different directions. A small format and cheap paper might have made an early modern text more accessible in terms of being affordable and portable, but the resulting dense type and thin paper makes for a less accessible reading experience.

E-readers and digital texts featured in our discussions about accessibility, but technology was also a more general theme throughout our conversations. Group members recognised that the development of new technologies has always impacted on the production and reception of texts, not least the invention of the printing press and subsequent development of new printing techniques. One participant noted the contrast between old newspapers that were organised in columns of dense text and modern online versions which include lots of visual images and even video content. There was some disagreement, however, about the impact this has. While some felt that this shift suggests that our engagement with news is more superficial today than in the past, others pointed out that we can think more deeply if we have less material to engage with than if we are overwhelmed by information. It was noted, though, that there is research that suggests that the rise of social media is impacting on our attention spans – and even has the potential to change our brains – with use of social media leading to a need for more frequent dopamine ‘hits’.

An example of an early modern newspaper with densely packed type. Image from Ebay.

Technology also plays into another of our key themes, that of power and authority, with tech companies wielding new forms of power over what information people receive. The question of who has the power and authority to communicate political information proved particularly stimulating. When discussing images and novels we were somewhat troubled by the power of the creators who were often imposing their visions on others. Our session on coffee houses involved reading early-modern criticisms of these spaces, which often hinged on the anxiety generated by coffee house ‘wits’ expressing their views in public, despite not having social standing – or even taste. The parallel with social media influencers today was not lost on the group.

Infographic from the reading group session on Images. Produced by Nifty Fox Creative 2022.

The question of who decides what is acceptable, and what is not, was also reflected in our discussion of free speech in our final session. One contributor noted that there has been a shift in recent years away from restrictions on free speech being imposed from above to them rising from below (from the audience rather than the authorities). The example given was of students in schools or universities objecting to the racist content of set texts. A lively debate followed on just where we should draw the line. Early modern people grappled with the same issues. The essay from The Craftsman that we read was clear that the only topics where free speech is relevant are government and religion, since these ‘are the only points, on which any Tyrant or arbitrary Prince would desire to restrain our thoughts’ (Caleb D’Anvers, The Craftsman: Being a Critique of the Times. London, 1727. No. II, 9th December). Yet even here a distinction was to be drawn between, on the one hand, undermining ‘the fundamentals of Government and Religion‘ or ‘calumniating [making malicious false statements about] persons in high power’ which were not to be tolerated and, on the other:

examining the principles of our faith by the test of Scripture and Reason; of declaring 

our judgment in all disputable matters, and of exposing the corruptions, 

impositions, and ridiculous claims of some Clergymen; … giving our opinion, in the 

same manner, of all political transactions, of debating the great affairs of peace and 

war; of freely delivering our sentiments concerning any Laws which are in 

agitation, and of modestly offering our reasons, for the repeal of those, which are 

found to be oppressive; … of setting forth maladministration, and pleading for the 

redress of grievances; of exposing mismanagement and corruption in high places, 

and discovering the secret designs of wicked and ambitious Men.

Title page from The Craftsman. Taken from Eighteenth-Century Collections Online.

The problem, of course, is that it is difficult to draw a clear line between ad hominem attacks and the exposure of corruption and maladministration. It was also not lost on the reading group members that there is irony in the fact that we have spent the last nine months discussing politics and the communication of political information in an institution – the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society – which at its origin banned any discussion of politics or religion at its meetings.

Texts at an Exhibition

On Monday 12th June the first of two exhibitions relating to the Experiencing Political Texts project opened at Newcastle University’s Philip Robinson Library. Members of the public can visit the exhibition by speaking to staff at the Library entrance. This blogpost provides a brief overview of the exhibition and its aims.

Encountering Political Texts

How do we encounter political ideas and information? How did early modern people do so? And what do we make of their political texts? A work like Robert Filmer’s Patriarcha, a daunting volume that argues the case for the divine right of kings on the basis that all kings are descended directly from Adam, is likely to feel very alien and inaccessible to a modern audience. The regular use of Latin phrases, the grounding in Biblical learning, the long unwieldy sentences, the use of the long ‘s’ (which looks like an ‘f’) all conspire to put the modern reader off. Filmer’s text is still read today (indeed it appears in Cambridge University Press’s ‘blue text’ series in an edition produced by Johann Somerville in 1991) and it has been the subject of an important recent monograph by Cesare Cuttica. Yet its survival owes less to its relevance today than to the fact that it acted as a provocation to at  least three important political texts of the 1680s: James Tyrell’s Patriarcha non Monarcha (1681); John Locke’s Two Treatises of Government (1690) and Algernon Sidney’s Discourses Concerning Government (1699). 

Of course, not all early modern political texts took the form of, often lengthy, books. During the turbulent period of the British Civil Wars politics was increasingly conveyed to a wider public via newsbooks (the forerunner of the modern newspaper), pamphlets (short cheap publications usually engaging with a specific political issue), broadsides (a single page that was designed to be posted up on a wall), and even ballads (political songs). There were, therefore, lots of opportunities for people – even those with  limited literacy – to gain political knowledge and engage with current affairs.

An unbound pamphlet The Last Newes from the North (London, 1646). Newcastle University, Robinson Library, Rare Books: RB 942.062 LAS.

The Physical Book

A central theme of the Experiencing Political Texts project has been the idea that books are physical objects and that their materiality can contribute directly to their argument. Paying attention to features such as the the size, paper quality, typeface, and ink can contribute to our understanding of the message the author was seeking to convey and how it might have been received by readers. Moreover, changes in these features in different editions of a particular work can transform the reading experience and how the work is interpreted and understood. In the exhibition we explore these issues by displaying alongside each other several different versions of James Harrington’s The Commonwealth of Oceana.

The Imagery of Politics

Authors can use images as well as words to convey their ideas to readers. Some early  modern books (especially expensive volumes) began with a frontispiece illustration that conveyed the argument of the book in visual form. The exhibition includes two early examples of this: Thomas Hobbes’s Leviathan and the Eikon Basilike. It also considers what authors did to present  their argument succinctly when they could not afford a fancy illustration.

Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan (London, 1651) Frontispiece. Newcastle University, Robinson Library: Bainbrigg BAI 1651 HOB.

Editing Political Ideas

Important political texts tend to survive beyond their immediate context and might be reissued multiple times. Though the text itself usually remains relatively stable, editors will adapt the size, quality, and design  to suit their intended audience and may also add paratextual material to make the text accessible to contemporary readers or to demonstrate the relevance of the ideas to the times. The exhibition uses editions of John Milton’s prose text Pro populo anglicano defensio (A Defence of the People of England) to demonstrate just how an editor can influence how a text might be approached and read.

Editing Ancient Politics

Of course, early modern editors also produced their own editions of older texts, especially those from ancient Greece and Rome, which were viewed as providing important insights on political matters. As with editions of contemporary texts, decisions about design and production were used to direct the work to particular audiences and to influence how it was read. In particular, there is a distinction to be drawn between works aimed specifically at learned readers and those intended for wider consumption.

The Author’s Preface to John Milton, A Defence of the People of England, ed. Joseph Washington (Amsterdam, 1692). Newcastle University, Robinson Library Bainbrigg BAI 1692 MIL.

Politics in Periodicals

Periodical publications were one of the success stories of the eighteenth century. The  number of titles expanded rapidly and their format and relatively low cost made them accessible for those beyond the political élite, including artisans and women. While part of their aim was to entertain, many also included a philosophical, moral, or political dimension, prompting us to ask whether these count as ‘political’ texts.

Thomas Spence’s periodical Pigs’ Meat, or Lessons for the Swinish Multitude (London, 1793-1795). Newcastle University, Robinson Library: Rare Books RB 331.04 PIG.

Conversations in Print

Some periodicals also encouraged debate – inviting readers to respond to articles  via letters or essays of their own. This idea of print as a forum for debate was also reflected in the ‘pamphlet wars’ of the early modern period in which two or more authors debated a particular issue or issues. The exhibition provides examples of both exchanges that occurred quickly, within a matter of weeks, and those that occurred over a longer period of time.

Experiencing Political Texts

Ultimately our aim is to encourage visitors to think more deeply about the nature of political texts. What makes a text political? How does its physical form contribute to that characterisation? We might even ask what constitutes a text? We are also keen to encourage people to think about how the form in which they read a work affects the reading experience. The experience of reading a text digitally on a screen is different from reading the same text in hard copy. But equally, reading an original edition of an early modern text is a different experience from reading a modern edition. It is even the case that reading an original edition today is different from the experience of reading it when it was initially produced. Finally, does this lead us to think differently about how we engage with politics today? 

The Materiality of Early Modern Political Texts – 2

In my last blogpost, I noted the point made by one participant at our Experiencing Political Texts workshop in York, that the correspondence of early modern men and women is viewed differently. Whereas that of men who participated in politics is read as a political text, that of women (even powerful and influential women) is often dismissed as gossip. That observation led me to ponder what makes a text  political. Katie East addressed this point explicitly in her paper at the second part of our workshop on the materiality of texts, which took place on 28 March 2023. This is one of three themes that I want to explore here that arose out of the papers delivered on that day. The other two are the methods used by early modern authors to control or delimit the meaning of their text, and the survival of ephemeral texts.

As Katie made clear, the political nature of a text is determined by several factors. Conventionally emphasis is placed on the content of the work and the intention of the author and interventions of the editor, commentator, or translator. Yet, as she explained, two other factors also play a critical role. First, the context(s) in which the work is written, printed, and read, and secondly the materiality of the text itself. Both Katie’s paper and those that followed offered several illustrations of how context and materiality can enhance a text’s political character. 

Painting of Cicero denouncing Catiline and his conspiracy. Taken from Wikimedia Commons.

Katie’s paper focused on accounts of the Catiline conspiracy in ancient Rome that were published during the early modern period. She demonstrated how that story was given a new political edge during the Jacobite uprisings of the early eighteenth century and the chaos generated by the  financial collapse of the South Sea Company. In her paper, Alex Plane showed how works that might be deemed apolitical in one context, could take on a political meaning in another. This was the case with the works on duelling held in the library of James VI and I. James  was keen to establish his reputation as a peacemaker, yet this was undermined if members of the nobility were killing each other in duels rather than settling their issues via formal legal means. Explicitly political works could also have their political edge heightened by being read in new contexts. Harriet Gray demonstrated this with reference to Thomas Spence’s political works. Though Spence died in 1814, members of the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society felt the need to distance themselves from his ideas in 1817 due to both the campaign against the Society of Spencean Philanthropists in London and the activities of their own librarian John Marshall who showed marked sympathy for Spencean ideas. 

Sketch of Thomas Spence’s profile. Taken from the Hedley Papers at the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society. Reproduced with the permission of the Society.

Perhaps more surprising are the ways in which  the materiality of a text could render it more or less political. Katie showed  how even just the title page could emphasise or de-emphasise the political nature of Cicero’s speeches on the Catiline conspiracy – or be used to encourage a particular reading of the text. The seventeenth and eighteenth centuries witnessed various accounts of the conspiracy including those that used it to call for loyalty to the existing (monarchical) regime and those that adopted a republican reading. The addition of paratextual material such as dedications and, in the case of Thomas Gordon’s translation of Sallust’s historical account, overtly ‘political’ discourses on the text, could further heighten its political character and/or a specific interpretation. Even the layout of the text on the page could contribute to this. Gordon deliberately adopted a clean, classical, layout to push his political message. This was in contrast to the busier appearance of scholarly editions which encouraged a more contemplative reading. 

Title page of Thomas Gordon’s Discourses on Sallust. Taken from ECCO.

Leanne Smith furthered our consideration of page layout by showing how the  Fifth Monarchist John Spittlehouse deliberately used the white space at the edges of the page to draw the attention of his readers to key passages and to direct their understanding. His pointed comments in the margin alongside his account of Oliver Cromwell’s speech to Parliament on 4 September 1654 encouraged his readers to question Cromwell’s actions and motives. While comments in the margin of The Royall Advocate such as ‘Jesus Christ was no Quaker’ sought to turn his readers against that radical sect. 

Page from John Spittlehouse’s pamphlet The Royall Advocate, which includes the marginal note ‘Jesus Christ was no Quaker’. Taken from EEBO.

Finally, Joe Hone, showed us how even something as apparently innocuous as the imprint could enhance the political character of a text. His paper focused on the short pamphlet The True  Patriot’s Speech to the People of Rome. Though printed in London in 1708, the imprint read ‘Amsterdam, 1656’. Joe argued that ‘Amsterdam’ was used repeatedly around this time as shorthand to indicate the republican or anti-monarchical content or implications of certain texts. In this sense it was not a way of avoiding censorship (as might be thought) but rather a declaration of allegiance. Similarly, dating the pamphlet ‘1656’ suggested its relevance to the period of the English republic, and encouraged the audience to read it as a counterpart to key republican texts such as  James Harrington’s The Commonwealth of Oceana and Marchamont Nedham’s The Excellencie of a Free State, both of which appeared that year. 

The page from The True Patriot’s Speech at Rome which gives the false imprint. Taken from EEBO.

We have already seen, with reference to Leanne’s paper, how the materiality of the text  could be used to encourage a particular political reading of it. This point was explored from a different perspective in Ruth Connolly’s paper. Ruth showed how Ben Jonson made careful use of punctuation to contain and control the meaning of his works. First, he made clear his expectation of readers in his poem ‘To Groom Idiot’, which criticises the eponymous recipient of the poem for failing to understand the punctuation of his works and laughing in the wrong places. By this means Jonson created expectations as to how his works should be read. Secondly, Ruth used several specific examples to illustrate how a subtle change in punctuation – for example from a colon to a question mark – could alter the meaning of the text – and even how in a letter to Cecil from 1605 a colon was used to imply a meaning that was not explicit in the written words. Despite being very different kinds of writers, both Jonson and Spittlehouse used technical features of their texts to direct the reader’s response. This is, of course, something we also see being used much more systematically in the elaborate bindings produced by Thomas Hollis for the works he disseminated and in the marginal notes he added to those texts, which I have explored in a previous blogpost.

Ben Jonson’s poem ‘To Groom Idiot’ taken from https://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/jonson/groomidiot.htm

Finally, having been prompted by the papers delivered at York to think about the ephemerality  versus the durability of early modern texts, I was interested to note in the final panel examples of ephemeral texts surviving under what might seem strange circumstances. Alex Plane explained that there is in James VI and I’s Library an edict against duelling issued by Louis XIII of France in 1613  which is exceptionally rare – indeed it appears to be the only surviving copies. Its presence in James’s library is probably due to Henry Howard who was commissioned by James to write a work for him that was critical of duelling. To prepare for this task, Howard, produced a common place book on the subject and probably collected the edict as part of an information gathering trip to France. In her paper Harriet Gray showed how ephemeral material relating to Thomas Spence and John Marshall (including the only extant copy of Spence’s original lecture ‘Property in Land Everyone’s Right’ and Marshall’s Newcastle Swineheard’s Proclamation) can be found among the papers of the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society. Their survival is due to the concern among members to distance the Society from both Spence and Marshall. Moreover, it is even possible that placing the texts in their collection was more about hiding them than preserving them (or at least about controlling the context in which they were read). They were not easy to locate or access  – as reflected in the fact that the Spence pamphlet was only rediscovered in 2005.

The copy of Thomas Spence’s lecture held among the Hedley Papers at the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society. Reproduced with the permission of the Society.

In my reflections on the first part of our workshop, I suggested that it had enhanced my sense of the experience of reading – and of printing – political works in the early modern period. This second part has only deepened that understanding, not least in encouraging me to think more about early modern cultures of reading and writing. Both Jonson and Spittlehouse took great care to guide their readers. Alex’s description of James taking his courtiers on what were effectively writing retreats and having them surround him at dinner to discuss recently published pamphlets and draft responses to them, suggests a different kind of reading and writing culture from the author sat at a desk scribbling in the margins. Do we also, then, need to think again about our own cultures of reading and writing? What do readers need to know in order to properly understand modern political texts, and where, and how, should they read them for maximum effect?

Workshop 2, Part 1: The Materiality of Early Modern Political Texts

Advances in digital technology have distanced twenty-first century scholars from the materiality of texts and the practical realities of printing and book production. I now access most of the texts I study via a screen. There are obvious benefits to this, virtually all the early modern printed texts I need are available via resources like EEBO (Early English Books Online) and ECCO (Eighteenth-Century Collections Online), so I no longer have to travel to specialist libraries to read them. Yet, being of an age that I can remember life before EEBO, I am also conscious of what is lost as a result of the shift to digital consumption. The orange dust on my clothes from carrying a pile of old books to my desk at the British Library is something I can live without, but the wealth of information that could be gleaned from handling the book as a physical object – its size, weight, quality, appearance – is much harder to intuit through a screen. 

Our second Experiencing Political Texts workshop was designed to explore these issues by focusing on the materiality of early modern texts. Practicalities meant that we were also confronted with the pros and cons of the digital in our own experience of the workshop. Owing to the threatened UCU strikes, Part 1 took place in person in York on 24 February, while Part 2 (which I will discuss in my next blogpost) was broadcast via Zoom on 28 March. While there are definite advantages to being able to hold a workshop digitally, the engagement with participants – just like that with texts – is richer and more satisfying in person.

I left York buzzing with ideas, but will restrict myself here to just three: the experience of texts by non-readers; ephemerality versus durability and the role of text in securing longevity; and the notion of hidden texts – and more especially hidden political messages within texts.

It was Sophie Smith who raised the point that texts are experienced by those who do not read them as well as by those who do. This idea was especially resonant because Sophie’s paper followed Rachel Foxley’s on Leveller and Republican texts, which had already led me to reflect on the information conveyed on title pages – which would have been accessible in booksellers shops or on barrows to people who did not buy or read the full work. Rachel focused on John Lilburne’s Regall Tyrannie Discovered, the title page of which is particularly striking. It consists of dense, closely printed, type which sets out the argument and structure of the work. In this regard, it reminded me of the frontispieces to works like Thomas Hobbes’s Leviathan and the Eikon Basilike, which convey the argument of the text in visual form. On the surface, these images are more engaging and might seem more appealing than dense type, and yet they require careful reading and interpretation. Lilburne also offered a textual equivalent of the author portrait that prefaced many early modern texts, listing his other works and offering a summary of the key events of his life.

Of course, the reputation of an author – and an understanding of their main arguments – was often accessible to those who had never read that author’s works. Niccolò Machiavelli was a case in point for the early modern period. Sophie showed that John Case’s Sphaera civitatis was partly inspired by his concern that early modern citizens might derive their understanding of politics from Machiavelli (whether or not they had read him). By updating Aristotle’s account of politics, Case’s aim was to convince them to abandon Machiavelli as their guide. Charlotte McCallum’s close reading of ‘Nicholas Machiavel’s Letter to Zanobius Bundelmontius’ which appeared in the 1675 edition of his works, explored how Machiavelli could be drawn upon to advance arguments specific to English politics in the 1670s. Machiavelli was not the only figure whose reputation extended to audiences far beyond those who actually read his works. Ed Jones Corredera reminded us that the same is true of Hugo Grotius whose image was used to advertise air travel in the twentieth century and to celebrate individuals committed to advancing peace – via the Grotius medals, one of which was awarded to Winston Churchill in 1949.

The second theme I drew from the papers concerned the ephemerality versus the longevity of texts. This idea was brought into focus by Katherine Hunt’s paper which began with the line from George Herbert that writing in brass is more weighty, durable, and permanent than writing with pen and ink. As Katherine’s paper demonstrated, the reality is that writing in brass could be just as ephemeral as print. As anyone who has wandered around a church will know, inscriptions on tomb stones can become worn over time. On the other hand, there are plenty of examples of supposedly ephemeral texts (broadsheets, chapbooks, pamphlets) that have survived since the early modern era. Sometimes this occurs as a result of them appearing in a Sammelband collection (a group of pamphlets bound together because they all relate to a particular issue or affair). Jason McElligott discussed a couple of Sammelband volumes held at the Marsh Library in Dublin. He demonstrated why such collections are so valuable to scholars, owing to their ability to reveal how particular works were read and understood at the time. 

Rachel Foxley and Marcus Nevitt also touched on the contrast between ephemeral and more durable texts. In analysing Regall Tyrannie Discovered, Rachel was forced to confront the distinction between pamphlets and books. Lilburne usually produced pamphlets, but with Regall Tyrannie Discovered he was clearly aiming (not entirely successfully) to produce something more akin to a book. As Rachel noted, ephemerality versus longevity is one of several scales on which we can contrast these two formats. Though there are of course plenty of examples of pamphlets that have transcended their supposedly ephemeral status. Marcus noted the contrast between the ephemerality of a play performance and the more durable form of a printed play text – which could extend the life of plays and enhance the reputation of their authors.

Closely related to the theme of longevity versus durability is that of visibility versus obscurity, and a number of papers also touched on the idea of hidden texts. This was again brought into focus by Katherine’s paper on brass inscriptions. I was intrigued by the pro-monarchy sentiments that were inscribed inside bells produced in 1641 and 1650. Was this a case of communities expressing their sympathy and support for Charles I in a way that was safe, precisely because the words could not easily be read? Other papers explored the notion of hidden texts – or hidden ideas within texts – in different ways. This might be a matter of the positioning of a particular text within a volume. Charlotte McCallum noted that in the 1675 edition of Machiavelli’s works the spoof letter from ‘Machiavel’ was placed at the end of the volume (a fact that was reflected on the contents page). In some later editions it appeared earlier in the volume, and in some a manuscript note was added drawing attention to the controversial nature of the ideas contained in the letter. The letter, then, was made more or less obscure through the materiality of the volume – its positioning within it and the addition or removal of other paratextual material. This reminded me of the practice within the Encyclopédie of hiding controversial topics in obscure places. The life and thought of the English republican James Harrington, for example, is discussed in the entry for Rutland; the English county with which the Harrington family was associated

Papers by Marie-Louise Coulahan and Lizzie Scott-Baumann offered a gender dimension to this idea of hidden texts. Marie-Louise presented her RECIRC project to us. One of the findings of this project is that while women rarely wrote overtly political texts, that does not mean that they did not engage in politics. Rather they had to find suitable vehicles for doing so. Petitions (such as that of the Mariners’ Wives and the Gentlewomen’s Petition) and prophetic writings were often used to make political statements. Similarly, both Lucy Hutchinson and Margaret Cavendish wrote about their husbands as a way of expressing their own political views. It was noted too that correspondence by women is often undervalued as a political text. Where the correspondence of men is seen as important, that by women is often dismissed as mere ‘gossip’. Lizzie took this notion of hidden ideas to a deeper level, exploring how the language used by Lucy Hutchinson and Anne Wharton in their poems addressed to Edmund Waller, served to subtly critique his behaviour and actions.

Our workshop ended with us addressing the materiality of texts from a different direction. Helen Smith led a workshop with the Thin Ice Press. We were given the opportunity to type set a short sentence (which proved to be a very fiddly process) and then to print a poster of our own. This gave us all a new appreciation for the work done by early modern printers. It became apparent just what a monumental task printing a text was at that time, and it made the typographical errors that are common in early modern texts much more understandable. While I will continue to use resources such as EEBO and ECCO to read early modern texts, I left York knowing that the distance between my understanding and the practical realities of the production and consumption of early modern political texts had narrowed perceptibly as a result of the workshop.

Reading Group Blog

It is hard to believe but we have almost reached the halfway point for our Experiencing Political Texts reading group. Our next meeting (on 7 February) will be the fifth of nine. It therefore seems a good moment to pause and reflect on what we have discussed and learned so far.

As facilitators of the meetings, Katie and I have set the reading for each meeting, but we have not been in control of the discussion. This was brought home to me at our last meeting on 10th January when the discussion was already underway before I had finished my introductory remarks. This is, of course, exactly how it should be and Katie and I have learnt way more from the discussions than we have contributed to the group. Our perceptions – as well as theirs – have been changed in the process.

Infographic of the discussion on Utopias. Produced by Laura of Nifty Fox and reproduced with permission.

After recent fruitful discussions on fiction/utopias and dialogues, members have sent us their reflections on the group and our discussions. They are, like the contributions to the discussions themselves, incredibly perceptive and insightful and are, therefore, worth citing in full here.

Tribes and Cultures by Ian, Reader’s Group, March 2023

The reading group on experiencing political texts has been perfect for someone who like me enjoys experiencing texts, the seventeenth century and politics. However I have been inevitably disappointed by the lack of any real hope that political texts might exercise a positive traction in shifting contemporary debates.  

I belong to a dying breed of people who read about politics.  I have read the manifestos of each major political party for general elections for over 40 years.  But really what have I been thinking?  The political parties themselves have abandoned me.  They now prefer soundbites and gimmicks.  The apotheosis of this minimalist and miserabilist approach to political texts was surely the notorious “Edstone”.

And text itself is now increasingly replaced by videos for YouTube, Instagram and TikTok. And the language used is not to create debate.  It is not couched as discourse.  It is merely language as word cloud used to create a culture for the tribe and to define the tribe over against the “other” – the blob, the global elite, the deep state, the invader. 

So, the reading group has been great – our very own coffee house.  In truth, though, we are far from where the political culture wars are currently being fought.

Communities of Effort by John, Reader’s Group, January 2023

Books are written by authors and that’s who we remember. We might remember the publisher if they are associated with a particular output or a controversial publication. We rarely think of the printers, and yet books and periodicals are objects in themselves and produced by a community of effort.

To take a book, we need paper (or vellum perhaps) and ink; thread or glue and punch cut metal type from a foundry. All need procuring to the right quality. We need wood blocks, copper or steel sheets if there are to be illustrations and an engraver to do the cutting. Then, printers to print who will typeset and pull the pages from the press. Proof readers to check (and maybe a lawyer); book binders to bind and a publisher to distribute. Can, and do, all of these affect what is published? I think so and that this will have an effect on readers too. The printers will be skilled (and amongst the earliest trade unionists) and so control the production process. If their labour is in short supply (or something is needed quickly) then the workers might shift from workshop to workshop.

Today authors/journalists/ourselves type directly into computers publish online and dispense with proof readers and lawyers if we so wish. Readers print documents at home. And, thus, we had the Times newspaper dispute at Wapping…

The Dangers of (Mis)Understanding by John, Reader’s Group, January 2023

Translation is also an interesting area for the transmission of ideas and (almost inevitable) misunderstandings. On a personal level I learnt early on in running multi-language trade union courses that the literal translation of words is less than half the story. To take one example. From my UK viewpoint the term ‘collective bargaining’ has a meaning that can be interpreted entirely differently in, say, Sweden or Italy. In political thought and argument in our period I can only imagine the range of possibilities for misunderstanding.

Today we can use our phones to do rapid translation (to the despair of professional interpreters) and the misunderstandings continue, sometimes tragically.

The Radical Act of Reading Attentively by Lin, Reader’s Group, January 2023

I’d guess that most of the participants had more than one reason for signing up to the book group. In my case the easy one to admit was ‘something to get me out of the house now I’ve retired’. It’s much harder (as a lifelong reader and former maker of books) to confess that I was no longer enjoying reading. For me, the pandemic meant that I did a lot of re-reading to avoid suspense, surprise endings and voices I didn’t already agree with. So it was an unexpected gift to be introduced to a new way of thinking about political texts – imagine an author not telling the reader what to think, but constructing a dialogue that nudged the reader to think for themself. Presumably the author hoped that the reader would come to the desired conclusion even if that was too radical to be directly expressed, but reading was contributing to the process of making a new world.

I’d already been thinking, unrelatedly, about literacy and the reading strategy ‘wars’ (phonics versus “whole language”) – what does it mean to be a reader, or a writer, today? It really has been a light shining in darkness to feel that there is a connecting thread between the seventeenth century and today, which starts with learning to listen to those multiple voices attentively. Even if that means risking surprises.

Infographic of the discussion on Dialogues. Produced by Laura of Nifty Fox and reproduced with permission.

Experiencing Political Texts Reading Group

This week I happened to read Paul Gailiunas’s article on John Marshall (which was drawn to my attention by my PhD student Harriet Gray). Marshall, a local printer and bookseller who was proposed as a member of the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society in July 1799 and became the Society’s Librarian at the end of that year, is a fascinating and controversial figure who is brought to life in this article. One of the projects Marshall promoted was the establishment of the Newcastle Philosophical Institution as an offshoot of the Lit & Phil in 1816-17. In a speech promoting the project, Marshall declared:

The professed object of this proposed Institution is to bring together, at stated times a select number of men, persons of various literary pursuits and requirements, and all activated by a sincere desire for mutual improvement. To set before them interesting topics for consideration on literary and philosophical subjects, and, under proper regulations, to promote thereon a liberal and candid discussion. (Paul Gailiunas, ‘John Marshall: Printer, Librarian and Radical’, Durham County Local History Society, 84, June 2020, p. 28).

Given his support for this institution, and his interest in radical politics, I think Marshall would have approved of our Experiencing Political Texts reading group that met for the first time on Tuesday 11th October in the lecture room at the Lit & Phil. The aim of this group is to explore the dissemination of political information both today and in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, thinking in particular about how the medium through which political ideas are conveyed can frame, influence – and even distort – the message.

Infographic produced by Nifty Fox Creative to advertise the Experiencing Political Texts Reading Group.

At our initial meeting we talked about where each of us gets our knowledge about politics and current affairs from. There were various responses ranging from traditional media such as print newspapers and journals through to social media such as Twitter. It was also clear that while some of us favour text-based material, others prefer aural forms such as radio and podcasts. Fewer of us seemed to prioritise visual media but that is also a format that is increasing in popularity – especially among the young.

Infographic produced by Nifty Fox Creative reflecting some of the discussion at our first Reading Group meeting on Tuesday 11th October.

Participants also commented on the limitations of some of these formats. In social media, headlines are accentuated, yet these do not always provide an accurate indication of the content of the article. Even longer articles may not provide as much depth – particularly on the history behind events – as might be necessary to property understand them. Social media have also been criticised for creating echo chambers, but participants also questioned the extent to which individuals reading conventional media seek out views and opinions different from their own.

More broadly, participants identified two pressing issues. First, the increasingly blurred line between truth and fiction – which becomes especially worrying when it is applied to the outcome of elections, as has been the case in several countries recently. Secondly, the fact that in many quarters the presentation of the news seems to be aimed primarily at entertaining the audience rather than informing or educating them. I share these concerns, but it also struck me that some of the early modern figures I have been studying actively deployed such tactics in order to engage readers. For example, Henry Neville deliberately presented his political views in entertaining genres such as a travel narrative and dialogue, and he used satire to draw in his audience. He also deliberately blurred the line between truth and fiction in order to prompt his readers into thinking more deeply about the truth of the information being presented to them. There is clearly a complexity here that requires careful unpicking.

A second infographic by Nifty Fox Creative representing the discussion on Tuesday 11th October.

Finally, we looked at some examples of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century political texts and compared them with the sources of political information available to us today. The group discussed what sort of people would have been able to read these works thinking about access, class, and literacy. We acknowledged that the sharing of texts – for example by reading them aloud, passing them on to friends, and using the circulating and subscription libraries that emerged in the eighteenth centuries – will have increased the number of people who could engage with them. The presentation of works will also have been affected by the authors’ sense of their target audience – including the fact that some works will have been designed to be read aloud in coffee houses. The group also raised the thought-provoking question of whether authors thought only about audiences at the time or whether they also had future readers in mind. If not, what does that mean for reading groups like ours addressing these texts today?

Marshall was almost certainly thinking only of contemporary audiences when he wrote his speech and when he published works like the Northern Reformer’s Monthly Magazine. This periodical, which was aimed at providing working-class readers with political guidance and news, was similar in style to One Pennyworth of Pig’s Meat which was produced by another local radical, Thomas Spence, in the 1790s. There are deeper connections between Spence and Marshall, indeed it was ostensibly because of Spence that Marshall lost his job as Lit & Phil Librarian in 1817. His publication of the radical broadsheet A Political Litany, at a time when radicals influenced by Spence were causing trouble in London, was used as a reason to sack him. Moreover, Spence himself had been expelled from the earlier Newcastle Philosophical Society for publishing his lecture on land reform that he had delivered to the group. From its establishment in 1793, the members of the Lit & Phil were keen to distance it from that earlier organisation – not least by prohibiting discussions of political and religious topics. Marshall’s activities presumably risked breaching those rules. Thankfully, times have changed and the Lit & Phil is a gracious host for our discussions on political texts. I think Marshall would have been delighted.

Workshop 1: Genre and Form in Early Modern Political Texts

The week commencing 5th September 2022 was politically eventful in the UK, with a change between Monday and Friday not just of Prime Minister but also of monarch. In the midst of this political upheaval we held the first Experiencing Political Texts workshop, on the theme ‘Genre and Form in Early Modern Political Thought’. Twelve rich and stimulating papers were delivered, disrupted only slightly by a gas leak just before our final panel which prompted an evacuation of the building.

In his paper on ceremonial writings from the civil war period, Niall Allsopp emphasised the importance of thinking about the key terms of the project and the complexity of their meanings. Inspired by this prompt, the reflections that follow are organised around the three words of our network’s title, taken in reverse order.

Collectively, the speakers adopted a broad understanding of what we mean by the term ‘text’. Many spoke about written sources (both manuscript and print) but a significant number incorporated into their discussion non-textual forms such as images, artefacts, and even landscapes. Martin Dzelzainis made an explicit case for images to be understood – and read – as texts. Noting that paintings were cited as a casus belli by the English in their conflict with the Dutch in the 1670s, Dzelzainis showed how the rhetorical technique of citing inartificial proofs could encompass visual as well as written sources, and highlighted the difficulties visual propaganda materials presented for those who were charged with refuting them in print.

The 1777 printed edition of the Traité des trois imposteurs. Taken from Wikimedia Commons.

Other papers addressed the malleability of texts and the fact that a single ‘text’ might change its identity over time. In her paper on clandestine literature, Delphine Doucet explained that the text of the Traité des trois imposteurs was not stable. New chapters were added over time so that different versions of the text vary in length and content. In addition, from 1719 when the first printed version of the text was published, print and manuscript versions circulated alongside each other. The other text discussed by Delphine, Jean Bodin’s Colloquium heptapolomeres, was more stable, but here too paratextual additions (such as an index) influenced the way in which particular copies were read. I made a similar observation in my own paper about how the paratextual material added to editions of English republican texts produced by John Toland and Thomas Hollis shaped how those works were interpreted. For example, Toland’s emphasis on the monarchical and aristocratic connections of the original authors served to make works published under the English commonwealth applicable to the circumstances of English society following the Glorious Revolution. It was not only full texts that were ‘recycled’ in later editions, but also extracts, anecdotes, and even jokes. It was interesting to note that Daniel Isaac Eaton, who has come to my attention because of his tendency to republish extracts from radical political texts in his periodical Politics for the People, is also known to Tim Somers as regards his reprinting of radical jokes.

The title page to the 1698 edition of Sidney’s Discourses, edited by John Toland and printed by John Darby. Note the description of Sidney which highlights his aristocratic credentials and royal connections.

Various papers highlighted the fluidity of boundaries between texts and the interplay between different kinds of text. Gaby Mahlberg presented John Toland’s Anglia Libera as a patchwork sewn from a range of radical texts, thereby emphasising the importance of intertextuality within the republican canon. She argued that readers of the German translation will have read the work differently from their English counterparts owing to the fact that they will have been unaware of the sources on which Toland was drawing. Tim Somers’s paper reminded us of the fluid nature of the boundary between textual and oral culture. Jest books not only recorded jokes that had been heard – thereby reflecting a move from the oral to the textual – but might also operate as collections of jokes to be retold – thereby facilitating a shift back from textual to oral form. In his paper on Thomas Spence, Tom Whitfield noted that Spence’s first move as a political actor also involved a shift from the oral to the textual, with the lecture that he delivered to the Newcastle Philosophical Society in 1775 being printed for sale and circulation (a move that sparked condemnation). But Spence took this crossing of boundaries much further. The Land Plan he had set out in his lecture made the move from prose to verse, and was abstracted in slogans which he stamped onto tokens and chalked onto walls. The relationship between Spence’s pamphlets and his tokens was particularly complex. The tokens were used to advertise his Land Plan and whet the appetite of readers for his printed works, but as Tom indicated as a form of coinage they could also be handed in at Spence’s shop in exchange for a pamphlet.

An example of one of Thomas Spence’s tokens. This is a halfpenny token thought to be from 1790 and reproduced from https://onlinecoin.club The obverse depicts an ass carrying a heavy burden with the slogans ‘RENTS’ and ‘TAXS’. The ass was commonly used to represent labouring people as in Sermons to Asses by Spence’s friend John Murray. On the reverse are listed the names of three Thomas’s: Spence; More; and Paine – all said to be advocates for the rights of man.

The focus of our project is primarily on early modern political texts, but some of the papers served to remind us that there is value in adopting a broad and flexible definition of the term ‘political’. Two papers in particular focused on genres that we would not immediately think of in these terms: Tim’s paper on jest books and Harriet Palin’s paper on religious catechisms. Tim pointed out that, while we often think of political jokes as graphic or literary satire aimed at challenging authority, jest books are primarily concerned with mirth and diversion. Yet Tim made a strong case for them still having a political role to play, showing how jests were used by defeated royalists during the civil wars to identify themselves and solidify their position, and by eighteenth-century Whigs to ridicule what they saw as the immoral behaviour of their opponents. Meanwhile, Harriet showed how catechisms were aimed at persuasion and could be read as a calls to action. In this regard I was struck by the parallel between republican treatises that were designed to generate active citizens whose behaviour would strengthen the common good, and Protestant catechisms aimed at creating active believers whose actions would strengthen both their own faith and their religious communities. Moreover, in both cases there is a tension between giving agency to people and directing this towards specific ends.

The question of what we mean by ‘political’ texts was approached from a different angle in Max Skönsberg’s paper, in which he introduced the Subscription Library project that he has been working on alongside Mark Towsey and others. Max’s analysis of borrowing records has revealed that theoretical works of politics like Thomas Hobbes’s Leviathan and John Locke’s Two Treatises were not particularly popular with the members of subscription libraries. Nor were parliamentary documents and debates borrowed frequently by readers. Yet, we should not assume from this that the members of these libraries were uninterested in politics. Among the works borrowed most frequently were histories, including David Hume’s History of England (borrowed from Bristol’s Library 180 times between 1773 and 1784) and William Robertson’s History of Charles V (borrowed 131 times in the same period). While adopting the historical form, these works were overtly political and Mark’s paper on readers’ manuscript adaptations of Hume’s History made clear that readers read them for their own political purposes. This idea of history as an explicitly political genre was reiterated in Tiago Sousa Garcia’s paper on Richard Fanshawe’s translation of the Portuguese classic the Lusiad. Tiago introduced us to the seventeenth-century debate about whether works like Lucan’s Civil Wars and the Lusiad should be viewed as epic poetry or history and highlighted the different connotations associated with each genre.

Sir Richard Fanshawe by William Faithorne, 1667. National Portrait Gallery NPG D22736. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

Finally, there is the question of what we mean by ‘experiencing’ political texts? By using this word we are indicating an interest not simply in passive reading, but rather in more active engagement. The question of how this is achieved was the subject of several papers, with speakers reflecting on how humour, rhetoric, the blending of fact and fiction, and other literary devices were used to engage readers. Myriam-Isabelle Ducrocq’s paper on eighteenth-century French translations of English republican texts highlighted a further strategy: the deployment of emotion. She described how the French translator of Algernon Sidney’s Discourses concerning Government added to the translation a letter Sidney had written to a friend in which he explained why he had decided to remain in exile rather than returning to England. The letter drew an emotional connection between Sidney’s experience of exile and that of the translator himself (a Huguenot refugee then living in the Dutch Republic) and via him to his Huguenot readers. By reminding his readers that they shared the emotional experience of exile with Sidney, the translator provided an incentive for them to engage with his work, and directed their approach to it. Of course, engaging emotions was not always viewed positively. Part of the objection to epic poetry, in the seventeenth-century debate described by Tiago, was precisely its tendency to do this.

The experience of reading a particular text might also vary depending on its format. As I noted in my paper, the editions of Sidney’s Discourses published by John Toland, Thomas Hollis, and Daniel Eaton were very different from each other. They were directed at different audiences, had different purposes, and created distinct reading experiences. Similarly as Gaby and Myriam-Isabelle demonstrated, the experience of reading a text in translation is often different from reading the original. In the case of Toland’s Anglia Libera, the title of the German version was truncated and the dedication cut. The papers by Max and Mark revealed that the reading experience might also be different when accessing a library copy of a work as opposed to reading one’s own copy. Library members could not always control when they were able to access a particular book and might even have to read a multi-volume work in reverse order. While we know that readers added annotations to library copies, they might nevertheless have felt more inhibited about doing so. They were, therefore, more likely to produce their own separate notes on a work (of the kind Mark presented to us) rather than scribbling in the margins. Even the same physical text might be experienced differently by different audiences, as Tom made clear in his discussion of Spence’s tokens. Tom argued that Spence adjusted the price depending on the purchaser: selling them at a high price to collectors, but throwing them into the street to be picked up by poor Londoners for free. For some, the tokens were therefore a collectible item to be catalogued, stored, and cherished, but for London’s poor they were an abstract of Spence’s radical programme and an invitation to discover more.

The title page of the French translation of Algernon Sidney’s Discourses produced by P. A. Samson. Source gallica.bnf.fr / Bibliothèque nationale de France.

Finally, Niall raised the interesting point about the relationship between readers and spectators. The ceremonial works Niall is studying were designed to make readers feel like spectators and to create an imagined community. Drawing on Stephen Shapin’s notion of virtual witnessing as applied to scientific experiments, Niall argued that ceremonial writings could therefore be used to affirm the authority of the magistrate(s) involved. This idea remains relevant today. Over the last few weeks those of us living in the UK have found ourselves drawn (willingly or unwillingly) into virtual witnessing in the ceremonials associated with a royal funeral. 

We will pick up many of these issues at our next workshop in York in late February 2023. I only hope that the political situation that week will be less eventful.

The Dissemination of Political Information

The way we consume news and political information is changing. A survey of 50,000 people in 2016 concluded that social media had taken over from television as the main source of news for people aged 18-24 and a survey published just a couple of weeks ago came to the same conclusion regarding 11-16 year olds. Similarly, research conducted in 2019 found that under 35s tend to use their smartphone (rather than print media, radio, television, or computer) to access the news, and that those in the 18-24 category rely on social media rather than news apps for their political information. While the majority of those asked in all age groups still tend to consume news in the form of written text, there is a growing appetite (especially among younger groups) for visual content including video and graphic storytelling.

This is thought to be an image of Major John Cartwright by Henry Fuseli, c. 1779. National Portrait Gallery NPG 4538. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence. Cartwright was a founder member of the Society for Constitutional Information and a driving force behind its establishment.

Innovation in the formats in which political information is presented to – and consumed by the public – is not a new phenomenon. Early modern Britain was a period of experimentation in this regard. The Society for Constitutional Information, established in April 1780, was concerned precisely with making political information accessible to new audiences. The organisation sought to diffuse knowledge of the British constitution’ throughout the realm’, ‘through every village and hamlet’ even ‘into the humble dwelling of the cottager’ (An Address to the Public, from the Society for Constitutional Information. London 1780, p. 1). To this end they printed and disseminated for free a variety of works on British institutions and politics. Moreover, from the outset the members paid particular attention to the format in which their works were printed, declaring explicitly:

That Small Pica be the Type to be used in the Pamphlets and Tracts to be printed by 

the Society; that Duodecimo be the Size of the Page; and that Demy Paper not 

exceeding Thirteen Shillings and Six Pence a Ream, be employed in the several 

Works to be printed. (The National Archives: TS 11/1133).

Like tech companies today, members of the Society knew that making key political information easily accessible was key and that the medium in which it was delivered was as important as the message itself. This was true of early modern authors more generally. They used an array of literary strategies to entice readers in, exploited the material form of the works they produced, and paid attention to their circulation. One reason they did so was that they were concerned not merely to inform their readers but to encourage them to think about and engage with the issues under discussion – and even to stimulate them into action. The Society for Constitutional Information disseminated political texts in order to increase the number of people campaigning for the reform of political institutions. By educating British people on the constitution they hoped to stimulate them to take political action; to demand their rights and bring about a transformation of what they saw as an outdated and corrupt political system.

The title page and frontispiece image of Eikon Basilike (1649). Reproduced, with permission, from the copy held in Special Collections at the Robinson Library, Newcastle: Kieper (K942.062 CHA). This is a good example of an early modern text that used literary techniques and the materiality of the text (including the interaction of text and image) to convey its message.

The ‘Experiencing Political Texts’ project that launches on 3 July seeks to explore this crucial relationship between medium and message in greater depth. By examining the methods used by early modern political authors to engage their audiences, and analysing how effective they were at achieving their ends, we hope to draw various conclusions. In the first place we will have a better understanding of how to read those texts – and how best to present them to modern audiences – whether via library catalogues or in modern editions. In addition, we will also advance our thinking on how best to disseminate political information and to stimulate calls to action in the twenty-first century – and even how to generate an engaged and active citizenry.

At the heart of the project will be a network comprising various groups. In the first place there will be humanities scholars from a range of disciplines with expertise in complementary approaches and skills. We will also involve library and archive professionals with experience of presenting early modern political texts to wider audiences, and digital humanities experts and software developers with the technical skills to think about digital representations. Finally we hope to recruit citizens of Newcastle and the surrounding area with a particular interest in the dissemination of political ideas and information.

Members of these different constituencies will gather together for three workshops. The first, to be held in Newcastle on 7th and 8th September 2022, will focus on the use of genre and form in early modern political texts and the ways in which authors sought to stimulate active political engagement by sparking their readers’ imagination or provoking debate. The second, which will take place in York in early 2023, will explore the materiality of early modern texts, the other material objects associated with them, and the connections between these and the practical culture of political clubs. The final workshop, scheduled for September 2023 in Newcastle, will explore how the literary and material dimensions of early modern political texts can be effectively presented to audiences via library catalogues, exhibitions, and editions, as well as the issues raised by digital presentation

Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society where the Reading Group will meet. Image by Rachel Hammersley.

Also central to the project will be a monthly reading group that will meet at the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society on the second Tuesday of each month from October 2022 through to June 2023. Members of the group will read and discuss short extracts from key early modern political texts, as well as being encouraged to reflect on their own engagement with and consumption of political information. Discussions will be recorded through visual live scribing providing the opportunity to track changes in thought among the group and a means by which the ideas they explore can feed directly into other elements of the project – including the workshops and exhibitions.

The project will culminate with two public exhibitions, one at Newcastle University’s Robinson Library and the other at the National Library of Scotland in Edinburgh, at which our key findings will be presented and explored. The exhibitions will focus on comparing original print editions of early modern political texts with modern print and digital versions to encourage thinking around the relative merits of different forms and how the manner in which we receive our political information impacts on our understanding and interpretation of that information. Workshops accompanying the exhibition at the National Library of Scotland will explore the implications of our findings for different groups such as activists or school children.

The National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh, where one of the exhibitions relating to the project will be held. Image Rachel Hammersley.

Of course it is not simply a case of disseminating political information in ways that are appealing and accessible to audiences. The medium also shapes the content. The report on the 2016 study cited above notes the ways in which social media can manipulate the news offering. Stories may be one-sided, biased, or even fake, and targeted to individual readers’ existing interests and opinions. Despite this, in the most recent survey, 47% of 11-16 year olds asked said that they trust the news they see on social media and that they have more faith in social influencers than politicians to tell them the truth about the news. Moreover, today on social media political information is generally consumed in paragraph-sized chunks or even just headlines – with most readers not digging more deeply to understand the full story. There is, perhaps, a danger that our modern methods of political communication far from generating engaged and active citizens produce passive news consumers instead.