I’ve been struck by how many books have been published recently that present history through objects. The first I came across was A History of the World in 100 Objects, all drawn from the British Museum. Note it says a history, not the history, because focusing on different objects might produce a different history.
The book is fascinating: It begins with one of the oldest existing objects made by human hands, a chopping tool from Olduvai Gorge in Africa, and it ends with a credit card and a solar-powered lamp and charger. In between are Spanish pieces of eight that speak of the beginning of global currency (a contemporary issue, whether you’re thinking of the dollar, the Euro, or bitcoins), a British tea set that speaks of empire, and items that speak of new powers overwhelming existing orders, of food, faith, and more. The point is not just to describe the objects but to explain their significance.
And just last year the Smithsonian published two similar books. One examines the Civil War by looking at objects from the Smithsonian. The objects take us from the concrete to the abstract; from, for example, weapons to death and waste. And they take us from the specific to the general; through letters from individual soldiers writing home, we see fundamentally important general themes: love, longing, family, and those profound human desires to connect with others and to tell our stories.
The Civil War objects also remind us that even the most momentous events involved not abstractions but real individuals in specific circumstances. In this book we find, as it were, the trousers that they put on one leg at a time. Without objects, the book asserts, the Civil War runs the risk of receding from urgent fact into fable. That shouldn’t happen to history, especially about war.
The Smithsonian also published last year its stunning History of America in 101 Objects. In it, visible, tangible objects take us to something invisible and intangible, and point us to important, abstract issues: George Washington’s uniform, Lewis and Clark’s pocket compass, Harriet Tubman’s shawl, Lincoln’s hat, slave shackles, Helen Keller’s watch, a Klansman’s robe and hood, Lindbergh’s plane, a Greensboro lunch counter.
Objects can inspire us or trouble us deeply - but only if you know what they are, know their stories. Otherwise they‘re just things, and a photo of Babe Ruth is just a picture of some guy with a bat.
Americans need to know these stories; we need to continue to tell them, repeatedly, even if we know the stories well - because there are new young people coming along all the time, and they will know the stories only if they’re told them.
Usually when we say that something is touching, we mean it touches us emotionally. But these histories touch us by letting us examine tangible objects. By focusing on material objects more intently, we can sometimes transcend the tangible and come to a better understanding of their meaning – something that is, ironically - intangible.
