Page 36 - ModernParadiseFLIPBOOKcomplete

36

pastures new, might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, mutton dressed as

lamb, black sheep of the family, having the wool pulled over your eyes, follow the
narrative thread. Or rural life and work (the English pastoral) - reap what we sow, the
time is ripe, to everything there is a season, bringing home the bacon, a grain of
truth, like a needle in a haystack, the upper crust, half-baked, sowing the seed, the
Grim Reaper.

He also points out some interesting geographical facts. Our weather obsession is
well-founded; we lie at the intersection of three weather systems, the Arctic, Atlantic

and African. The north-south divide is reflected in geology - hard Palaeozoic rock
north and west, Triassic sand, clay and chalk south and east; and in weather - the
Pennine rain shadow, with cattle grazing to the west, crop-growing to the east. And
the location of our historic towns was determined by rivers; Salisbury has five,
London three.

However, Winder is on less sure ground when he tries to relate geography to national

identity. Can it reveal “the hidden springs of Englishness”? Do the tides and the
unpredictable rainfall really explain (alleged) English characteristics such as stoicism,
fatalism and sang froid? I recommend Winder’s book as a lively and entertaining
historical travelogue. But does he prove his case?

I’m not convinced. In the broadest sense, of course geography matters. Of course
British history will differ from that of landlocked mountainous Switzerland or of the
deserts of Arabia. Of course coal deposits mattered to the industrial revolution; but

historians regard them as a precondition rather than a cause, which are much more
complex and contested. And although there is no doubt that geography made the
early offshore islanders feel “on the edge” while the opening of the Atlantic after
1500 put them at the world’s hub, again, this is a precondition of our modern history;
explaining it all is a whole different ball game.

Thus, when Winder ends his book with the question: “What is history, if not the
ramifications of geography over time?” the answer must surely be, well actually,
quite a lot more. It’s true, as Tombs says, that “geography comes before history”. But
that doesn’t mean that geography explains history.

Where, then, do we go if we wish to pursue the geographical contribution to the first
thousand years of our national history? I’d like to suggest that we take a different
approach. I think early British history can best be understood not so much in relation
to geography, but rather the related discipline of geopolitics.