Imagining the Textbook: Textbooks as Discourse and ...

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Imagining the Textbook: Textbooks as Discourse and Genre Eleftherios Klerides Lecturer in Comparative Education and History of Education at the European University in Cyprus and Research Associate of the American University of Beirut Abstract • This article examines textbooks, especially history textbooks, seeking to contribute to an emerging body of scholarship that endeavors to understand the nature, specific properties, and characteristics of this medium. Using systemic functional linguistics and a context-based perspective of language as its theoretical point of departure, it argues for a dual imagining of the textbook as discourse and genre. In imagining the textbook, the article calls for a rethinking of comparative textbook research in the future, based on a novel cluster of conceptual priorities deriving from postmodern thought. Keywords • ambivalence, compromises, dilemmas, discourse, genre, genre mixing, history textbook, hybridity, merged discourse

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extbooks constitute some of the most widely used educational media,* and they are the subject of an emerging body of scholarship that endeavors to understand their nature.1 In seeking to contribute to the scholarly literature, this article suggests two complementary perspectives on theorizing the textbook and some of its features: the textbook as discourse and the textbook as a genre. This reading is derived from two theoretical standpoints focusing on language alone rather than on other semiotic modes and means. First, it follows systemic functional linguistics emphasizing the multifunctionality of language.2 This means that language in texts, while representing aspects of the world, simultaneously constitutes social subjects and relations between them. Second, it is grounded on a socially based account of language. Such an account considers language in texts as both socially constitutive and socially shaped, placing its social context at the center of attention.3 The article discusses this particular imagining of the textbook by focusing specifically on history textbooks of Cyprus and England.

Journal of Educational Media, Memory, and Society doi: 10.3167/jemms.2010.020103

Volume 2, Issue 1, Spring 2010: 31–54 © GEI ISSN 2041-6938 (Print), ISSN 2041-6946 (Online)

Eleftherios Klerides

The Textbook as Discourse With reference to systemic linguistics, especially the concept that language in texts functions ideationally in representing experience and reality,4 the history textbook—as a discourse—is defined as a particular way of writing about the past. It is a systematically organized group of statements that linguistically represents aspects of the historical world—the material world, the social world, and the mental world of thoughts, feelings, and beliefs. Three specific features of any textbook are derived from this reading: textbook discourse as a multilayered medium, as an inter-discursive field, and as a multifunctional domain.

Multilayered Domain Any given textbook discourse is a domain of at least two interrelated layers: the semantic, or content layer, which comprises the thematic choices of a textbook discourse and its particular propositions; and the layer of the linguistic realization of the textbook semantics. Having been influenced by metahistory5 and borrowed insights from narratology,6 textbook semantics (the first layer) often take the narrative form and tend to be clustered around three categories: the actors (the characters of a narrative), the setting (information about place and time), and the plot (the types of action in the story, bound up together by a common theme). This point can be illustrated with evidence from Cypriot textbooks. The discourse of any given post-1974 Greek Cypriot textbook is often divided into three narrative strands.7 The first is the narrative of autonomy and heteronomy. The setting of this narrative is the island of Cyprus, and its major actors are the “self” (the Cypriot people who can include both Greek and Turkish Cypriots), and the various “others” (the Phoenicians, the Assyrians, the Egyptians, the Persians, the Romans, the Venetians, the Franks, the Arabs, the Ottomans, or the British) who made their way to the island or conquered it at different historical moments. The plot of this narrative describes how a small and weak people fought for freedom against larger and more powerful peoples who desired the island because of its strategic location at the crossroads of east and west. The second narrative strand is the Hellenizing narrative, and the third is the narrative of Christianity. These last two strands share the same organizing principle in which the major actors are the “self”—the Greco-Christian people of Cyprus, and the “others”—non-Greek, non-Christian (nonOrthodox). The setting is now the Hellenic and Byzantine world while the plot aims to explain the persistence of the Greco-Christian identity and culture on the island over the longue durée, despite the constant threats of dehellenization and religious conversion posed by the “others.” 32

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The narrative strands of a textbook do not appear as distinct semantic configurations. Rather, they tend to be tightly interwoven and not easily distinguishable. It is frequently up to the analyst to impose a sense of order. This is illustrated by an example from a textbook: “King Evagoras did not manage to liberate Cyprus from the Persians. He nevertheless managed to maintain it as a Greek place.”8 The motif of failure to set Cyprus free from foreign rule taken from the narrative of Cypriot autonomy and heteronomy, and the motif of safeguarding the Greekness of the island, which in turn alludes to the Hellenizing narrative, are blended together. The second layer of textbook discourse—the linguistic realization of its semantics—refers to the lexical and grammatical means and devices that are involved in the expression of narratives about the past. It is based on the idea that language and semantics “are connected via a process of ‘realisation’: lexico-grammar ‘realises’ semantics, the linguistic ‘realises’ the social.”9 First, the lexical realization of textbook discourse is exemplified. As Norman Fairclough points out, “the most distinguishing features of a discourse are likely to be features of vocabulary—discourses ‘word’ or ‘lexicalize’ the world in particular ways.”10 This means that the narrative strands of a given textbook have their particular encoding in vocabulary choices. For example, the narrative of heteronomy and autonomy tends to lexicalize foreign administrations of the island using a vocabulary of despotism as “tyranny” and “dictatorship,” which are often qualified by such adjectives as “brutal,” “harsh,” “violent,” “authoritarian,” “unbearable,” “cruel,” “unfair,” or “oppressive.” In contrast, a vocabulary of developmentalism is often recruited to signify times of independence. Such terms as “growth,” “progress,” and “development” tend to concur not only with adjectives like “rapid,” “considerable,” “exceptional,” “great,” and “unprecedented,” but also with such categories of human activity as “agriculture,” “industry,” “transport,” and “trade.” Moreover, the discourse of a textbook is materialized in the grammatical features of the textbook. This point is illustrated with transitivity, the grammatical representation of relationships among processes, associated participants, and circumstances in a clause.11 Four types of processes tend to predominate in accounts of periods of heteronomy in Greek Cypriot textbooks: conquests, oppression, suffering, and uprisings. In this typology of action, two sorts of actors prevail: the people of Cyprus—“us” and the other peoples who ruled the island at different times—“them.” A general pattern of transitivity is that conquests and oppression are ascribed to “them”; suffering is related to “us” and attributed to “them”; and finally, due to circumstances brought about by “them,” “we” were obliged to engage in uprisings against “them.” This pattern can be illustrated with a few examples from two textbooks.12 An example of a transitive process

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with an active clause is provided by the sentence: “The Turkish rulers [agents] imposed [material process] heavy taxation on the population of the island [affected actors].” The following sentence contains a transitive process with a passive clause: “Cyprus [affected personified actor] was subjugated [material process] successively to the Assyrians, the Egyptians and the Persians [passive agents].” A relational process with a carrier and attributes of nominalization (i.e., the transformation of concrete verb processes into abstract nouns) is exemplified by the following sentence: “This period [carrier] was [relational process] one of exploitation and oppression [attributes] of the indigenous Greek population of Cyprus [affected actors] by their Frankish rulers [agents].” And the following passage demonstrates a process as a reaction to circumstances: “the Venetians rigidly demanded the shipping of wheat in Venice, even during difficult years of drought. This was causing starvation, threatening even the physical survival [circumstances] of the inhabitants of the island [agents], and led to uprisings [process] against the oppressors [affected actors].”

Interdiscursive Domain Every textbook discourse is generated from combinations of discourses, which frequently originate outside the education field. History textbooks, primarily, though not solely, draw on discourses of academic historiography, archaeology, and literature, and tend to be linked to political discourse. These discourses, as they move from their original sites of production external to education to their new positioning as textbook discourse, morph in certain ways. This perspective on textbooks is influenced by critical discourse analysis, especially its notion of interdiscursivity, and by the sociology of education, particularly the concept of recontextualization. Interdiscursivity is the co-articulation of different discourses in a communicative event,13 while recontextualization denotes the appropriation of elements of one discourse within another, placing the former within the context of the latter, and transforming it in particular ways in this process.14 The following example, found in an English textbook account of the character of the English people,15 highlights its colonization by English national discourse: Englishmen dislike change: nearly all our institutions are the result of the work of our fathers and grandfathers and of their fathers before them. Englishmen love independence: every citizen, man or woman, is expected to share in managing or in choosing those who manage the country’s affairs, as we have been learning to do for a thousand years. Englishmen like order: they submit willingly to regulations which their elected assemblies have imposed for the good of everyone. Englishmen

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Imagining the Textbook: Textbooks as Discourse and Genre are loyal to the king; we are not ashamed of feeling pleased when we recognise the royal car, carrying no number, as it is driven through the streets.

In this excerpt, the traces of the colonization of the history textbook by the political discourse of Englishness involve a finite cluster of clichés about a typical English national habitus. The group label “Englishmen,” the pronoun “we,” the possessive pronoun “our,” and the term “country,” all evoke the English nation. Textbooks also routinely appropriate elements from literary and archaeological discourses. This can be illustrated by the theory of the Mycenaean colonization of Cyprus and its subsequent Hellenization, which established Greek culture on the island. Nineteenth-century German literary scholars such as W. Engel and A. Enmann were among the first to put forward the idea that during the Late Bronze Age, the island was colonized by the Mycenaeans and was subsequently Hellenized.16 In his Handbook of the Cesnola Collection of Antiquities from Cyprus, the British archaeologist J.L. Myres advocated in the early twentieth century that the Mycenaean colonization rendered Cyprus the outpost of Greek civilization, establishing Greek language and Hellenic sentiment on the island.17 The following excerpt highlights how Greek Cypriot textbooks tend to incorporate the theory of the Hellenization of Cyprus with the Mycenaean advent without any explicit reference to literary or archaeological sources: Many peoples (or groups) made their way through Cyprus or conquered it: Phoenicians, Assyrians, Egyptians, Persians, Romans, Arabs, Crusaders, Franks, Venetians, Turks and English. However, the inhabitants safeguarded the Greek character which had been formed since the Mycenaeans had settled on the island, at the end of the Later Bronze period; this is evident in the language as much as in the tradition.18

Moreover, textbook discourse is articulated by elements drawn upon from academic historiographies. To clarify this point, I compare John Robert Seeley’s late nineteenth-century book, The Expansion of England (1883), with a textbook written in the 1990s, The Making of the United Kingdom. Seeley was the first to put forward the thesis of the internal and external expansion of England: the expansion of England within the British Isles and in the world. In the last years of Queen Elizabeth England had absolutely no possessions outside Europe … Great Britain did not yet exist; Scotland was a separate kingdom, and in Ireland the English were but a colony in the midst of an alien population still in the tribal stage. With the accession of the Stuart family commenced at the same time two processes, one of which was brought to completion under the last Stuart, Queen Anna,

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Eleftherios Klerides while the other has continued without interruption ever since. Of these the first is the internal union of the three kingdoms, which, though technically it was not complete till much later, may be said to be substantially the work of the seventeenth century and the Stuart dynasty. The second was the creation of a still larger Britain comprehending vast possessions beyond the sea. This process began with the first Charter given to Virginia in 1606. It made a great advance in the seventeenth century; but not till the eighteenth did Greater Britain in its gigantic dimensions and with its vast politics first stand clearly before the world.19

The thesis of the internal expansion of England and the creation of the United Kingdom or Great Britain is taken up by a late twentieth-century textbook in a chapter titled “Uniting the Kingdoms”: The United Kingdom today is made up of four countries: England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. Before the time of the Tudor monarchs these were all independent countries apart from Wales. Wales had been conquered by England in the 13th century. Scotland, on the other hand, had defeated the English at the battle of Bannockburn (1314) and had kept its independence, with its own monarch. The English attempted to hold on to Ireland but their efforts met with little success. By the time of the Tudors, they had only managed to keep a toe-hold in Ireland in the area surrounding Dublin, known as the “Pale.” By 1750 the situation was very different. Scotland, Ireland and Wales were under the political control of England.20

The above excerpts highlight that the thesis of internal expansionism tends to show up in divergent linguistic forms in academic texts and school textbooks. The view that the United Kingdom was formed by the northwestern expansion of England from its southern position is realized differently in Seeley’s text and in the late twentieth-century textbook. It is explicitly designated as a process of expansion in Seeley’s text. However, in the textbook it manifests itself implicitly, in the setting up of semantic relations of opposition (politically independent vs. politically subjugated) between two different historical periods: the time prior to the thirteenth century where all British nations were independent, and the epoch in which “Scotland, Ireland and Wales were under the political control of England.” Transformation in discourse is evident not only at the level of linguistic realization of semantics; it is also manifested in relation to semantics themselves. A comparison between academic and school historiography in Cyprus exemplifies this point. Yiannis Papadakis remarks that the idea of peaceful coexistence, which stresses the long symbiosis of Muslims and Christians on the island and the recent emergence of their separation, is

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prevailing in post-1974 academic texts.21 The following excerpt highlights the colonization of a post-1974 history textbook by this idea: “thousands of Turkish Cypriots were moved from their villages where they had been living peacefully with the Greek Cypriots until then, and settled in pure Turkish Cypriot areas.”22 Here, the idea of peaceful coexistence is appropriated from the field of academic history, therefore decontextualized first and then recontextualized, and modified: academic historians project coexistence between Muslims and Christians, and school historians promote coexistence between Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots.

Multifunctional Domain The discourse of any given textbook produces, reproduces, and sustains; challenges, transforms, and dismantles reality in certain ways. This perspective on textbooks derives from social theory on discourse. The sociologist Stuart Hall points out in this regard that “just as a discourse ‘rules in’ certain ways of talking about a topic, defining an acceptable and intelligible way to talk, [and] write …, so also, by definition, it ‘rules out’, limits and restricts other ways of talking … in relation to the topic”.23 Thus for example, in promoting the Hellenization of Cyprus with the Mycenaean advent, the Greek Cypriot textbook, History of Cyprus: From the Neolithic to the Roman Period (1990), was at the same time reproducing a theory that was articulated in the nineteenth century and consolidated in the early twentieth century. In this way, it contributed to the preservation of the Greek Cypriot belief in the historically Greek character of Cyprus. Likewise, the English textbook, The Making of the United Kingdom (1992), was taking an active part in sustaining the myth of English hegemony over the British Isles by reproducing a historical thesis from the nineteenth century: that of the internal expansion of England. Textbooks can also participate in the dismantling and transformation of particular systems of knowledge, as illustrated by two examples. The first example refers to the way in which English textbooks address the Magna Carta. Often, late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century history textbooks depict it as “the foundation of our liberties” or “the groundwork of English freedom,”24 insinuating through the possessive pronoun “our” and the adjective “English” that the Magna Carta was valuable for all the English. This depiction signals the colonization of textbooks by the so-called Whig interpretation of history: the story of the ancient and timeless English freedom that dominated British and English academic and popular historiography in the nineteenth and first half of the twentieth century.25 Drawing on post-war academic critique of Whig historicity,26 textbooks written since the late twentieth-century have sought to transform this view into one that sees this Charter as beneficial to the bar-

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ons of the realm rather than to the villains. The following example demonstrates how a textbook text sets up the following historical inquiry for its readership in its account of the Magna Carta: “Nowadays people often remember Magna Carta as a charter that laid down the rights of ordinary people. (i) Why is that wrong? (ii) Why do you think people made that mistake?”27 By ascribing the negative qualities of “wrong” and “mistake” to the way in which people interpret the Magna Carta, this extract aims at advancing the reading of the Magna Carta as beneficial to “some” at the expense of the view that it was useful to “all.” The second example refers to attempts to transform prejudiced opinions about other peoples, as in the following passage from an English textbook: “the English thought of Scots as foreigners, living in a poor and uncivilised land.” The negative stereotype of the backward Scot is reported first and then framed by the writer as “biased and unpleasant” and as representing “the hostile attitudes of many English people.”28 This disparaging framing is a sign of an effort to dismantle well-established English attitudes toward the Scots, and by implication, to transform them for the future: the Scots were not a backward people. A different textbook by the same author then seeks to reconstruct British attitudes toward the former colonized peoples, again for the future: “When the British came across native peoples who lived in different ways and held different beliefs they described them as ‘uncivilised,’ and they felt superior to them.” After citing a number of sources illustrating the racist way in which Britons thought about the peoples of their empire, the textbook author concludes, “Today we know that all these statements are wrong and some races are not superior to others.”29

Mixing of Discourses: Textbook Discourse as a Merged Domain Textbook discourse tends to blend together a wide range of synchronic and diachronic discourses from various social fields in order to create its own order. The hybridization of textbook discourse produces a great deal of ambivalence and inconsistencies as extremely diverse discourses are drawn on, and often combined ineffectively. The merged discourse of a textbook therefore often fluctuates between different fields and identities, between different versions of the same reality, between past and future, and between tradition and change. Such oscillations have their logic in dilemmas and difficulties that lead to compromises reflected in the heterogeneity of textbook discourse. A crucial question to ask is how the diverse narratives of textbook discourse are related to each other. The three narrative strands running through post-1974 Greek Cypriot textbooks as detailed above appear in two sorts of relationship: the narratives of Hellenism and Christianity are

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in a complementary sort of relation while the narrative of autonomy and heteronomy is in a relationship of opposition to the narratives of Hellenism and Christianity. The co-articulation of opposing narratives is a major source of ambivalence in textbooks, for the tendency to changeably depict the inhabitants of Cyprus as “Cypriots” (the narrative of autonomy and heteronomy) and as “Greeks” (Hellenizing and Christianity narratives) tends to leave the reader puzzled: Who are the people of the island? This is a sign of “the dilemma of the Greek Cypriot identity.” As Papadakis has noted, “On the one hand, Greek Cypriots’ dependence on Greece and belief in their Greek origins and cultural heritage requires emphasis on the ‘Greek’ aspect. On the other hand, the need for rapprochement with the Turkish Cypriots leads to an emphasis on the common ‘Cypriot’ dimension.”30 English textbook authors have also faced difficulties with their identity, resulting in an ambivalent textbook discourse which, in turn, derives from its inter-discursive nature, as in the following example: Just as a child grows up to maturity, learning by experience and teaching, so a country must develop its own institutions and ideas, growing through its history into a responsible nation. Some of the lessons are hard, some of the experiences are shattering, like the Civil War in the reign of Charles I, but all play their part. We in Britain have developed gradually towards a country where the law protects our liberties and Parliament represents the majority of our wishes.31

In this text, elements from English and British discourse of nationhood are articulated together. For example, Whig historicity conjured up by the episode of the Civil War and the doctrine of the gradual evolution of liberty is drawn on from Englishness, while the British Parliament and its depiction as the representative of the people’s will allude to Britishness. This results in a certain ambivalence: it is unclear whether the terms “country” and “nation,” the deictic “we,” and the possessive pronoun “our” refer to the English or the British. This ambivalence is a reflection of the conflation and confusion of national identity in England. Because Englishness has played a large part in the creation of Britishness and Britishness has in turn affected the meaning of Englishness, “Englishness and Britishness are so interfused as to be virtually indistinguishable.”32 Although it is often up to the readership to arrive at partial reconciliations of the tensions of textbook discourse, in many cases textbook authors attempt to resolve them by compromise. As Gunther Kress puts it, “the task of the author/writer is precisely this: to attempt to construct a text in which discrepancies, contradictions, and disjunctions are bridged, covered over, eliminated.”33 In the example with King Evagoras cited above, the dilemma of Greek Cypriot identity is tenuously reconciled for the readers. Through the contrastive conjunction “nevertheless,” Greekness (promoted by the narratives of Hellenism and Christianity) and Cy-

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priotness (projected by the narrative of autonomy and heteronomy) are implicitly placed in a hierarchical relation to each other with the safeguarding of the Greek character of Cyprus being more important than Cypriot autonomy. This is a sign that identity was struggled over in Cyprus after 1974 and that textbook authors were seeking to textually reconcile being simultaneously Greeks and Cypriots. A second example further illustrates this tendency to resolve the inconsistencies of textbook discourse. We have seen that a Greek Cypriot textbook incorporates the thesis of the Hellenization of Cyprus. At the same time, this textbook makes use of another archaeological theory promoted by Swedish archaeologists in the 1940s: the theory of the Eteocypriots, an ethnic group with its own distinctive language and culture who were descended from the pre-Hellenic habitants of Cyprus and lived alongside the Mycenaeans in antiquity.34 The textbook portrays Amathous as “the city of the Eteocypriots. Elements of their culture are found on the island until the fourth century B.C.”35 These traces of a rival archaeological discourse contradict the textbook’s overall thesis of homogeneity along Greek cultural lines in ancient times by generating an image of cultural heterogeneity. Yet the authors attempt to cover this contradiction and reach a compromise by foregrounding the Hellenization of the island and placing the Eteocypriots in the background. While the Hellenizing theory manifests itself as a whole chapter section, the Eteocypriot theory appears as a footnote. The co-articulation of diverse and frequently competing discourses in a textbook is also embedded in its multifunctional nature. The inherent historicity of textbook discourse underpins multifunctionality by positioning itself in relation to existing, pre-constructed discourses. This means that any given textbook draws on other discourses for both normative and creative purposes. Some of its features function to preserve and perpetuate entrenched discourses whereas others serve to contribute to their renegotiation and reshaping for the future. By appropriating the English expansionist thesis, for instance, English textbooks written since the end of the twentieth century have contributed to the perpetuation of the discourse of English lordship over the British Isles. At the same time, English textbooks have taken an active part in restructuring English society. They have incorporated, for example, stereotypes from prejudiced discourses against the colonized peoples and the non-English inhabitants of the British Isles with the aim of initially delegitimizing them and then substituting them with anti-racist semantics based on tolerance and understanding. As such, then, textbooks are ambiguously balanced between past and future, oscillating between tradition and change. Most examples of discursive transformation are brought about via the specific generic properties of the textbooks they are taken from, especially an underlying belief in the fluidity of history. The features of textbooks

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are therefore derived not only from the diverse discourses that are voiced in them; they also emanate from the meanings of genre. As Kress notes, “texts are therefore doubly determined: by the meanings of the discourses which appear in the text, and by the forms, meanings and constraints of a particular genre.”36

The Textbook as a Genre The history textbook, as a genre, is defined in terms of how interaction takes place in the course of history writing, based on the concept that language in texts also functions interpersonally in constituting social relationships between participants in discourse.37 More specific, the textbook as a genre refers to a particular conventionalized way of using language in connection with writers’ perceptions of their task, their view of the discipline of history and its constitution, and their perception of themselves and their audience. Based on this imagining of the textbook, it is possible to distinguish between two different types of history textbook genre: the traditional and the new. Each is associated with a different context in the historical trajectory of education and is legitimized by a different paradigm of history teaching, a different pedagogic model, and a different philosophy and epistemology of history. As Kress puts it, “in considering any genre, it is necessary to bear in mind the total interconnectedness of features of the social occasion and features of the genre.”38

The Traditional History Textbook Genre The traditional genre of the history textbook emerged in the context of the establishment of mass schooling throughout the nineteenth century and in the early twentieth century in Europe and North America. Many scholars point out that a national form of education was endorsed during this period, stressing that the main aim of schools was to develop notions of national citizenship and identity in children.39 In this context, history gradually became a compulsory subject in primary and secondary curricula as it was given a major role in the process of constituting subjects loyal to the nation-state. History’s task to produce national subjectivities was grounded on the view that history teaching is an effective medium of handing on a certain kind of knowledge concerning the nation’s past, homeland, culture, and character. In John Slater’s terms, traditional history sees “history primarily as a socializing instrument, emphasizing the knowledge and acceptance of society rather than a critical understanding of it.”40 The content of history was also accepted as “truth.”41 This perspective on historical knowledge is associated with the grand narrative conception of the nature of history, which stresses that history is a body of knowledge

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about past reality that merely reflects, in Ranke’s famous phrase, “how it actually was.”42 This, in turn, is based on the ideal of scholarly objectivity and its assumptions that there is a scientific truth corresponding to the past and that this truth is value-free. Such views equate the past with history, position historians as disinterested arbitrators of knowledge, and construct accounts of past events as neutral and definitive.43 The articulation of historical knowledge as “truth” was also compatible with the traditional model of pedagogy. According to this model,44 the core element of the pedagogic act is the transmission and acquisition of knowledge. School historians, history teachers, and history students are thus all subordinated to disciplinary knowledge. The potential of education in general and history teaching in particular to produce national subjects and the grand narrative conception of the philosophy of history and traditional pedagogy have entered the constitution of the traditional history textbook genre, which has five principal defining features. First, its authors perceive their task as that of explaining to the readers “what actually happened” in the past in a concise and simple way. Second, their role is that of an informed and neutral narrator—a “knower” who tells the readers the truth about the past as it unfolded in real time. Third, both the authors and the readers are explicitly addressed as members of a nation. Fourth, the readers are positioned as passive assimilators of historical knowledge, which is causally ordered and organized in terms of external time, and attributed—either implicitly or explicitly—with historical significance. Last, history is viewed as an authenticity that merely reflects the truth about events and processes of historical reality; that is, a body of knowledge for readers to engage with, uncritically accept, and assimilate. This textbook genre can be illustrated with an example from a textbook formerly used in English schools and rewritten immediately following the end of World War II. The following excerpt, titled “The Revolution in Industry,” refers to the narrative representation of events, processes, and peoples related to the Industrial Revolution and, in the original, is illustrated by two pictures that show the domestic and the factory systems of manufacturing: These two pictures tell the story of the revolution which turned Britain into the Workshop of the World. The one shows how spinning had been carried on for centuries. A hundred years ago, after the revolution in industry, spinning and weaving came to be done in great mills like the one in the other picture. Ever since the days when man first learnt to spin, weave, make pottery, and work in wood and iron, nearly all manufactured goods had been made by hand in the homes and little workshops of the craftsmen. The yarn was spun by women and children in their cottages, and the weavers went round the countryside to buy it for weaving. During the eighteenth century the demand for cloth became so great

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Imagining the Textbook: Textbooks as Discourse and Genre that men of invention devised machines which could spin and weave much more quickly than the spinning-wheel and the hand-loom. One invention followed another, till machines were found in almost every branch of industry. With the machines came a new and wonderful power to drive them – the steam-engine. With steam power the industry left cottages and small workshops and became concentrated in factories and mills. Thus grew up the great towns which mark the North and Midlands of England. The steam-driven machines made the Industrial Revolution, and as it took place first in Britain our country became the leading industrial nation of the nineteenth century, and supplied the other countries with manufactured goods.45

This excerpt is written within the traditional genre. The objectivity of the historical account and the denial of the historians’ significance in its constitution are signaled by impersonality. This is partly manifested in the use of pictures that take on the agentive role of “telling” the story of the revolution. The use of the present tense (e.g., “tell,” “shows”) and the reconfiguration of processes as abstract entities with human agency (e.g., “the revolution turned Britain into,” “the industry left cottages”) contribute to making the text impersonal, as does the fact that judgments (e.g., “wonderful power,” “the demand for cloth became so great”) are made without any indication of their source. Taken together, these rhetorical and linguistic forms seem to have three functions: to give the status of factuality to the subjective act of history writing going on at the textual surface, to give the status of immutable truth to the product of historiography, and to lend the status of unquestionable authority to the invisible historians. They also highlight that the authors are at one with what they are writing, and their involvement in textbook discourse points to their subordination to knowledge and their participation in its naturalization and distribution within society. At the same time these forms of impersonality endow textbook discourse with great persuasive power, strongly inviting the reader to identify with the voice of the historians and leaving little space for challenge and subversions. The school historians avoid deploying any mitigating devices—such as modal auxiliaries (e.g., might, could) and modal adverbs and adjectives (e.g., probably, probable)—which would attach a modality of uncertainty to their discourse. They also exclude any alternative interpretations of the Industrial Revolution (e.g., the view that the Revolution had negative effects on the lives of many people), which would disturb their chosen and privileged perspective. This story therefore appears logical and factual, and history is presented as an uncontested truth for the readers to uncritically accept and passively absorb. Although the historians appear to be letting events “speak for themselves,” they color them with a significance that highlights the reason

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for the narrative to be told. The authorial intent is to pass on a certain kind of knowledge about the nation (e.g., “our country became the leading industrial nation of the nineteenth century”) and by means of this knowledge to develop a sense of national pride, identity and citizenship in readers. This emphasis of school history had dominated the production and consumption of textbooks until the social transformations of the 1960s and 1970s, where a change in the teaching and writing of history took place.

The New History Textbook Genre The new genre of the history textbook evolved together with “new history.”46 In the eyes of the advocates of new history, the main purpose of the subject was to teach history as a scientific process, emphasizing the acquisition of the skills and concepts that define history as a unique discipline rather than the mere assimilation of knowledge. Historical thinking—collecting evidence, forming arguments based on evidence, studying events from different perspectives, empathetic understanding, the realization that every conclusion is a hypothesis to be modified or rejected in the light of fresh evidence—was now held to be essential for teaching. “Historical thinking,” as Slater puts it, “is primarily mind-opening, not socializing,” and stresses inquiry methods, the use of sources, the cultivation of a variety of skills, both of a specifically historical and of a general nature, and teaching “how” rather than “what.”47 This shift in emphasis on history’s purpose has roots in progressive, child-centered pedagogy. This pedagogic model articulates new relations among knowledge, teachers, and students. Knowledge is a medium for educational ends and not an end in itself; the teacher is no longer the monopolist of knowledge but the facilitator of learning; and, the student is an active learner who can create his/her own understanding of the world.48 The redefinition of the priorities of history education was given further value by the shift of teaching history at university, from “the ideal of the Voice of History to that of heteroglossia.”49 This new philosophy underlines the multiplicity of diverse and often opposing interpretations of the past. To use Frank Füredi’s terms, “there is no history with a capital H; there are many competing histories.”50 The underlying assumption of this paradigm is that historical reality is socially constituted and this means that “history” is now separated from “the past,” that the act of writing history is one of human creation depending on the historian’s values and stance on the epistemology of knowledge, and that history is never definitive.51 Not all historians, however, have subscribed to this philosophy. Paul Kennedy, for example, having rejected relativism but recognized hetero-

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glossia, subjectivity, and fluidity in history writing, urges that the quest for a less biased, more objective understanding of the past should be the aim of historical study. This task, he argues, can be reached through a process of analysis and debate in which a range of positions and arguments are considered.52 Keith Jenkins notes that the process of seeing both sides, weighing and adjudicating things is the dominant mode of creating historical knowledge in late modernity.53 The new philosophy of history, progressive pedagogy, and the educational model of new history have shaped in part what this article calls the new history textbook genre, which has four principal constitutive features. First, history is both a creative art, cultivating the child’s empathetic, imaginative, logical and deductive thinking, and a literary subject that involves reading and making sense of a range of historical sources. Second, students, as young historians, can actively construct their own understanding of the past by being engaged in historical inquiries that need resolution. Third, the authors’ task, like that of teachers, is to create an environment that supports both the readers’ investigation of the past from a range of competing perspectives and historical sources, and, the readers’ appreciation of historical skills. Finally, the writers are not monopolists and neutral carriers of historical knowledge but rather facilitators of historical learning. The new genre of the history textbook can be illustrated with an example from an English textbook written in the mid-1990s and still used in schools today. It is excerpted from a chapter about the Industrial Revolution, accompanied by a range of historical sources, both verbal and visual, and appears under the heading “Different Interpretations.” Some people in the nineteenth century disliked the factory system. They saw the domestic system of the eighteenth century as a golden age when things were made by families living happily in cottages in the countryside. Since then many historians have taken the same view. Other historians argue that the domestic system had as many problems as advantages for the people working in it. They saw the benefits of the factory system brought to workers outweighed the hardships. Who is right? You will have to make up your mind about two things: • How good was life in the eighteenth-century domestic system of manufacturing? • Was life in the nineteenth-century factory system much worse or a bit better?54

Compared to the traditional genre, the new history genre encodes different views about the writer’s task and the science of history. Unlike the traditional genre, the focus here is on the promotion of historical thinking. Perhaps the most obvious manifestation of this emphasis is the title of the text, which serves as a triggering device highlighting that the

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assimilation of knowledge is subordinated to the acquisition of the skills and concepts that mark out history as a unique discipline; in this case, the idea that historians construe the change from domestic to factory production in various ways. A more complex image of history, as a contested site in which different discourses compete for hegemony, also emerges from this text. This complexity is expressed not only by the inclusion of different views about this change but also by the finely nuanced linguistic constructions of change at the textual surface (e.g., “as many problems as advantages,” “benefits” vs. “hardships”). There is also a different perception of readership and authorship embedded in this text. Rather than merely passive recipients, the readers—through a number of syntactic ways—are positioned here as active and agentive. Using questions for inquiry, encouraging the students to weigh things, and transferring to them the responsibility of resolving differences of opinion, all serve to construct the readers implicitly as meticulous young historians in search of their own understanding of change in the production system. The use of the direct command along with the pervasive use of clauses of indirect reporting also highlight the writer’s distance from the textbook discourse. These features are signs of a shift in his perceived role: from a monopolist of knowledge to an agent of giving instructions and assisting the students’ engagement with the past by choosing sources and perspectives. This means that the authority, objectivity, and impersonality of the writer are still evident in the text, only now they take on different forms.

Genre Mixing: A Merged Textbook Genre The new history textbook genre exists only as an ideal type. In reality, textbooks written since the 1980s often mix the two genres. This process leads to a hybridization of the textbook genre and the emergence of a new, fused genre. This generic heterogeneity is also a major source of ambivalence in textbooks that tend to oscillate between historical objectivity and subjectivity, between passivity and agency on the part of the audience, and between authorial detachment from and involvement in the making and naturalization of textbook discourse. Such oscillations also have their logic in dilemmas; in this case, in the authors’ dilemma of how to inculcate historical thinking in students without abandoning their socialization with basic historical facts. The stereotyping of the non-English inhabitants of the British Isles in an English textbook of the late twentieth century is an illuminating example of this mélange of genres. The following utterances with prejudiced negative content against the Welsh and the Irish are found in chapters dealing with England’s relations with the other British nations during

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the medieval period.55 Each of these utterances alludes to a different kind of genre. Of the Welsh, the textbook claims, “They were hardy, warlike folk who fought and stole from each other and from the English.” In its description of the Irish, however, it refers to a source: “The Irish live like beasts, are more uncivil, more uncleanly, more barbarous in their customs than in any part of the world.” (“An Englishman reporting in Elizabeth I’s reign”). The hybridization of the textbook genre is manifested here in the degree of directness with which the stereotypical image of the nonEnglish inhabitants of the British Isles as “uncivilized” is projected. There are two distinctive modes of constructing this image, each corresponding to a particular textbook genre. The first mode is apparent in the statement about the Welsh and refers to directly expressed prejudice by the writer who, by means of a relational clause, claims to convey a historically generalized truth to the reader. This way of ascribing prejudices is associated with the traditional genre. By implication, it positions the readers as passive assimilators of a well-established fact, the writers as agents of factual knowledge, and history as a value-free discipline. The second mode is the direct reporting of prejudice via the use of a historical source, which is made possible by the new history genre. Direct reporting is a marker of the writer’s detachment from the biased content and positions him not as agent of truth but as facilitator of the reader’s investigation of the past. Its application serves to minimize the persuasive impact of the stereotype on the readers, generating space for them to critically reflect on it. The mixing of the modes in which the stereotypical image of the “uncivilized,” non-English inhabitants of the British Isles is expressed is a manifestation of the new merged textbook genre. This genre, which seems to be hegemonic in the current historical moment in many countries across the world, is a major source of ambivalence in this textbook as it leaves the reader oscillating between truth and opinion. The making of a hybrid textbook genre can be further exemplified with an example from an English textbook introduction to the Norman conquest.56 The textbook begins its account of the conquest with the usual setting up of a historical inquiry that needs resolution: “William, Duke of Normandy, is thinking of invading England. On pages 7–8 you are going to be a spy for the Normans to find out if England was a strong country in 1066.” To resolve this inquiry, the reader is given two sources. The first consists of a map of Britain surrounded by several boxes containing information about conditions in England in the 1060s, such as the following information on the topic of the army: The English army consisted of: • around 3000 “housecarls,” tough soldiers who fought with doublebladed axes which could split a man in half • earls in command of the mainly untrained peasants they brought with them from their villages

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Eleftherios Klerides • soldiers paid by townspeople to fight for them. It was a good fighting force but difficult to gather together.

Some of the information on the topic of the army consists of evaluative statements (“tough soldiers,” “untrained peasants,” “a good fighting force but …”). These are made without any indication of their source, which gives them a modal force of certainty: they are well-established facts that the reader should merely accept and learn. This is perhaps the most overt trace of the traditional textbook genre. In contrast, the second source is a manifestation of the new history textbook genre; the voice of expressed evaluations is clearly demarcated at the surface of the textbook. The source contains “descriptions of the English and the Normans in the 1060s written by William of Malmesbury, a monk. He was half English and half Norman by birth.” His portrayal of the English runs thus: The English, at that time, wore shorts garments reaching to the midknee; they had their hair cropped; their beards shaven; their arms covered with golden bracelets; their skins covered with punctured designs. Drinking parties were very common and they drank until they were sick. Drunkenness weakens the human mind and they often fought with rashness and fury rather than with military skill.

The fact that some narratives about conditions in England in the 1060s appear to be objective statements and others subjective judgments results in ambivalent writing and reading positions: a writing position that fluctuates between the writer as a servant of truth and as a servant of the reader’s investigation of the past, and a reading position that oscillates between the readers as passive consumers of truth and as active creators of their own understanding of the past. These forms of ambivalence are one of the effects of blending together the traditional and new history genres of textbook. The constitution of a hybrid and ambivalent genre of textbook can be interpreted as a way of reacting to the dilemma that textbook writers face in late modernity. There is a strong desire among them to be able to develop historical thinking skills and an understanding of historical methodology in students. At the same time, they do not wish to abandon chronological perspective, an appropriate depth of content and the opportunity to use the dramatic storyline, features of traditional genre still considered important for history teaching.57 This dilemma is reflected in the writings of history educators. For example, a leading history educator in Cyprus stressed in the early 1990s that “new history’s inquiry approach with the use of historical sources is, I believe, impressive and particularly attractive” and urged school historians “to write history schoolbooks adopting the new approach.”58 He pointed out that new history “should not be

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seen as an end to itself and the one and only way of teaching history.”59 He supported his view by emphasizing the necessity for pupils to be given an appropriate depth of content in the chronological form in order to be able to interpret historical sources and decode their messages. This dilemma also comes to light via the hybridization of the declared purposes of textbook writing. For example, the back cover of every textbook of the English textbook series A Sense of History (Harlow: Longman) describes each textbook as using “a combination of narrative and intriguing and unusual sources to tell good stories well. It invites the pupils to explore some of the choices faced by men and women at the time, the decisions they made, and the ideas they held”; activities in textbooks “enable pupils to investigate and use the wide range of sources and viewpoints offered.” On the one hand, the aim is “to tell good stories well,” associating textbooks with the transmission and acquisition of knowledge. On the other hand, the verbs “to explore” and “to investigate” and “to use” trigger a view of textbooks as a means of developing historical thinking in students through a predominantly evidence-based approach. This means that textbook writers seem to respond to their dilemma by accommodation and compromise, attempting a balancing act between the two genre types.

Conclusion: Ambivalence, Dilemmas, and Compromises of the Hybrid Textbook In order to contribute to a better understanding of textbooks, this article seeks to open a dialogue between the domain of textbook research and other academic fields of study. Using history textbooks as a case study, the article argues for an imagining of the textbook as discourse and genre: the textbook signifies the world from a particular perspective and constitutes certain modes of social interaction. The textbook, however, is more than discourse and genre; it is a blend of discourses and genres. I conclude that textbooks constitute an instance of hybridity, ambivalence, dilemmas, and compromises, as an effect and manifestation of co-articulating diverse, and often competing and conflicting discourses and genres. This conceptualization is based on and reflects a particular reading of the social world, which in turn is a direct impact of postmodern thought.60 This article is underpinned by the idea that the certain properties and features of textbooks are partly shaped by struggles between diverse discourses and genres offering, alternative or contradictory ways of writing about the past, and of social interaction. This reflects a multiplicity of social voices, which originates in the very nature of society. Any society comprises a number of institutional and individual actors that interpret

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reality and interaction in different ways. Differing views on historical reality and diverse modes of interaction compete for hegemony. Heteroglossia and contestation leave their traces at the surface of textbook in the form of co-occurrence of inconsistent elements: mixtures of diverse narratives and vocabularies, markers of authority and familiarity, active and passive agency, signs of change and tradition, knowledge as truth and as opinion, and so forth. This hybridity is the source of much textbook ambivalence. If the surface of a textbook is multiply determined, then the various discourses and genres that go into its composition may not be effectively placed in relation to each other and their meaning may be ambivalent, even contradictory; different meanings may coexist uneasily, and it may not be possible to determine “the” meaning. Often, forms of ambivalence have their conditions in dilemmas at the societal level. They are then an effect of operating in accordance with divergent constructions of reality and social relationships simultaneously. Dilemmas lead to accommodations and compromises that tend to be manifested in the ambivalence and hybridity of the textbook. This imagining of the textbook gives rise to a range of new analytical priorities for textbook research. As many scholars have suggested, the meaning or possible meanings that we give to a text affect “what” we research and “how” we interpret what we find.61 The study of the form and motivations of heterogeneity, ambivalence, dilemmas, and compromises in textbooks within a given society, and the examination of their different shapes and sources across sociocultural settings are of particular relevance for textbook researchers, particularly in the field of comparative textbook research. This set of concepts—hybridity, ambivalence, dilemma, and compromise—possesses the analytical power to capture what is common in different contexts, and at the same time, they do not gloss over culture, history, politics, the very themes that render textbooks comparison intellectually interesting and challenging. Comparative textbook research along these “theoretical and conceptual bridges”62 is an extremely difficult task. It is, however, a research task that evolves from a more realistic reading of the world and a theoretical option that we have not yet fully explored.

Acknowledgements The earliest version of this article was given as an invited lecture at the Georg Eckert Institute for International Textbook Research, Braunschweig, in August, 2009. I would like to thank Felicitas Macgilchrist for organising the lecture and Eckhardt Fuchs, Hanna Schissler, and Barbara Christophe for inviting me to submit the article to the Journal of Educational Media, Memory and Society. I also wish to thank the two anony-

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mous referees whose constructive criticism helped me to revise the earlier draft.

Notes 1. See, for instance, Theo van Leeuwen, “The School Book as a Multimodal Text,” Internationale Schulbuchforschung 1 (1992): 25–43; Caroline Coffin, “Constructing and Giving Value to the Past: An Investigation into Secondary School History,” in Genre and Institutions: Social Processes in the Workplace and School, Francis Christie and J. R. Martin, ed. (London: Cassell, 1997), 196–230; Falk Pingel, UNESCO Guidebook on Textbook Research and Textbook Revision (Hanover: Hahn, 1999); Keith Crawford, “Researching the Ideological and Political Role of the History Textbook—Issues and Methods,” International Journal of Historical Learning, Teaching and Research 1 (2000): 1–8, http://centres .exeter.ac.uk/historyresource/journal1/journalstart.htm (accessed 23 October 2009); Jon Nichol and Jacqui Dean, “Writing for Children: History Textbooks and Teaching Texts,” International Journal of Historical Learning, Teaching and Research 3 (2003): 1–29, http://www.centres.ex.ac.uk/historyresource/ journal6/6contents.htm (accessed 23 October 2009); Kyriakos Bonidis, Textbook Content as a Research Field: A Diachronic Study of Relevant Research and Methodological Approaches [in Greek] (Athens: Metaichmio, 2004); Yasemin Soysal and Hanna Schissler, “Teaching Beyond the National Narrative,” in The Nation, Europe and the World: Textbooks and Curricula in Transition, Hanna Schissler and Yasemin Soysal, eds. (Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2005), 1–9; Jason Nicholls, ed., School History Textbooks Across Cultures: International Debates and Perspectives (Oxford: Symposium Books, 2006); Stuart J. Foster and Keith Crawford, “Introduction: The Critical Importance of History Textbook Research,” in What Shall We Tell the Children? International Perspectives on School History Textbooks, Stuart J. Foster and Keith Crawford, eds. (Greenwich, CT: Information Age, 2006), 1–23; Achilleas Kapsalis, and Dimitris Charalambous, School Textbooks: Institutional Development and Contemporary Problematique [in Greek] (Athens: Metaichmio, 2008); and Jeff Bezemer and Gunther Kress, “Visualizing English: A Social Semiotic History of a School Subject,” Visual Communication 8, no. 3 (2009): 247–262. 2. M. A. K. Halliday, Introduction to Functional Grammar, 2nd ed. (London: Edward Arnold, 1994); Norman Fairclough, Critical Discourse Analysis: The Critical Study of Language (Harlow: Longman, 1995), 4–10; Norman Fairclough, Analysing Discourse: Textual Analysis for Social Research (London and New York: Routledge, 2003), 26–28. 3. Stuart Hall, “The Work of Representation,” in Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices, Stuart Hall, ed. (London: Sage, 1997), 13–74; and Marianne Jørgensen and Louise J. Phillips, Discourse Analysis as Theory and Method (London: Sage, 2002), 1–24. 4. Halliday, Introduction to Functional Grammar; Fairclough, Critical Discourse Analysis; and Fairclough, Analysing Discourse. 5. Hayden White, The Content of the Form: Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989); Robert F. Berk-

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6.

7.

8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

13.

14.

15.

16. 17.

18.

19. 20. 21.

22. 23.

52

hofer, Beyond the Great Story: History as Text and Discourse (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1997). H. Porter Abbott, The Cambridge Introduction to Narrative (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002); and Bethan Benwell and Elizabeth Stokoe, Discourse and Identity (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006), 129–162. Eleftherios Klerides, “The Discursive (Re)construction of National Identity in Cyprus and England with Special Reference to History Textbooks: A Comparative Study” (PhD diss., University of London, 2008), 152–199. “Team of the Ten,” History of Cyprus: From the Stone Age to the Age of Christianity (Lefkosia: Printko, 1980), 104. Benwell and Stokoe, Discourse and Identity, 108. Fairclough, Analysing Discourse, 129. Halliday, Introduction to Funcional Grammar; Fairclough, Analysing Discourse, 141–143. “Team of the Ten,” History of Cyprus; and A. Pantelidou and K. Chatzikosti, History of Cyprus: Medieval and Modern Period (Lefkosia: Department of Curriculum Development, Ministry of Education and Culture, 1992). See, inter alia, Martin Reisigl and Ruth Wodak, Discourse and Discrimination: Rhetorics of Racism and Anti-Semitism (London and New York: Routledge, 2001), 37; and Jørgensen and Phillips, Discourse Analysis as Theory and Method, 73. See, inter alia, Basil B. Bernstein, Pedagogy, Symbolic Control and Identity (New York and Oxford: Rowman and Littlefield, 2000); and Eleftherios Klerides, “National Identities on the Move: Examples from the Historical Worlds of Greater Britain and Hellenism,” Comparative Education 45, no. 3 (2009): 435–452. Caroline Firth, History Second Series. Book 4: The Growth of British Democracy, Part 1: “British Democracy at Home” (London: Ginn and Company, 1949), 11–18, 139–143. Natasha Leriou, “Constructing an Archaeological Narrative: The Hellenization of Cyprus,” Stanford Journal of Archaeology 1 (2002): 1–32. Michael Given, “Inventing the Eteocypriots: Imperialist Archaeology and the Manipulation of Ethnic Identity,” Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology 11, no. 1 (1998): 12. A. Pantelidou, K. Chatzikosti, and I. Christou, History of Cyprus: From the Neolithic to the Roman Period (Lefkosia: Department of Curriculum Development, Ministry of Education and Culture, 1990), 2. John Robert Seeley, The Expansion of England (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, [1883] 1971), 13. P. Hepplewhite and N. Tonge, The Making of the United Kingdom (Ormskirk: Causeway Press, 1992), 48. Yiannis Papadakis, “Perceptions of History and Collective Identity: A Study of Contemporary Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot Nationalism” (PhD diss., University of Cambridge, 1993), 45–49. Pantelidou and Chatzikosti, History of Cyprus, 280–281. Stuart Hall, “Foucault: Power, Knowledge and Discourse,” in Discourse Theory and Practice: A Reader, Margaret Wetherell, Stephanie Taylor, and Simeon Yates, eds. (London: Sage, 2001), 72. See also Norman Fairclough, Discourse and Social Change (Cambridge: Polity, 1992), 65; and Ruth Wodak, “DiscourseAnalytic and Socio-Linguistic Approaches to the Study of Nation(alism),” in

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24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37.

38. 39.

40. 41.

42.

43. 44. 45. 46.

The Sage Handbook of Nations and Nationalism, Gerard Delanty and Krishan Kumar, eds. (London: Sage, 2006), 112. Klerides, “The Discursive (Re)construction of National Identity in Cyprus and England with Special Reference to History Textbooks,” 118. Krishan Kumar, The Making of English National Identity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 202–206. Paul Kennedy, “The Decline of Nationalistic History in the West, 1900–1970,” Journal of Contemporary History 8, no.1 (1973): 91–99. James Mason, Medieval Realms (Harlow: Longman, 1991), 34. James Mason, The Making of the United Kingdom: Crowns, Parliaments and Peoples, 1500–1750 (Harlow: Longman, 1992), 117–118. James Mason, Expansion, Trade and Industry (Harlow: Longman, 1993), 68–69. Papadakis, “Perceptions of History and Collective Identity,” 136. L. Stewart, A Course in British History: 1688 to the Present Day. Book 1: 1688–1870 (London: Arnold, 1966), 17. Kumar, The Making of English National Identity, 156. Gunther Kress, Linguistic Processes in Sociocultural Practice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), 15. Given, “Inventing the Eteocypriots,” 18–20. Pantelidou et al., History of Cyprus: From the Neolithic to the Roman Period, 40. Kress, Linguistic Processes in Sociocultural Practice, 20. Kress, Linguistic Processes in Sociocultural Practice, 18–31; J. R. Martin, “Analysing Genre: Functional Parameters,” in Genre and Institutions: Social Processes in the Workplace and School, Francis Christie and J. R. Martin, ed. (London: Cassell, 1997), 3–39; and Fairclough, Analysing Discourse, 65–86. Kress, Linguistic Processes in Sociocultural Practice, 26. See, inter alia, Andy Green, Education and State Formation: The Rise of Education Systems in England, France and the USA (London: Macmillan, 1990); Andy Green, Education, Globalisation and the Nation State (London: Macmillan, 1997); and Antonio Nóvoa, “Europe and Education: Historical and Comparative Approaches,” in Historical-Comparative Perspectives: Festschrift in Honour of Andreas M. Kazamias, Josef Bouzakis, ed. (Athens: Gutenberg, 2000), 47–69. John Slater, The Politics of History Teaching: A Humanity Dehumanised? (Institute of Education, Special Professorial Lecture, 1989), 7. Keith Crawford, “Researching the Ideological and Political Role of the History Textbook,” 3–4; Peter Yeandle, “Lessons in Englishness and Empire, c. 1880–1914: Further Thoughts on the English/British Conundrum,” in History, Nationhood and the Question of Britain, Helen Brocklehurst and Robert Phillips, ed. (Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 277. Peter Burke, “Overture: The New History, Its Past and Its Future,” in New Perspectives on Historical Writing, Peter Burke, ed. (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1991), 1–24. Keith Jenkins, Re-Thinking History (London: Routledge, 1991), 5–26. Jon Nichol and Jacqui Dean, “Writing for Children,” 9–10. S.A. Williams and R.C. Williams, The Four Freedoms Histories or the People We Are: A History for Boys and Girls, Vol. III (London: George Harrap, 1949), 15–16. See, for example, Trifonas Skouros, New History: The New Approach in the Teaching of History with the Use of Sources [in Greek] (Lemesos: Self-publication,

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47. 48.

49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60.

61.

62.

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1991), 11–14; Robert Phillips, History Teaching, Nationhood and the State: A Study in Educational Politics (London: Cassell, 1998), 15–21; and Richard Aldrich, “New History: An Historical Perspective,” in Lessons from History of Education: The Selected Works of Richard Aldrich (London: Routledge, 2006), 161–165. Slater, The Politics of History Teaching, 16. Robert Cowen, “On Pedagogic Forms, Educational Space and Political Principles,” in Historical-Comparative Perspectives: Festschrift in Honour of Andreas M. Kazamias, Josef Bouzakis, ed. (Athens: Gutenberg, 2000), 364–365. Peter Burke, “Overture,” 6. Frank Füredi, Mythical Past, Elusive Future: History and Society in an Anxious Age (London and Boulder, CO: Pluto Press, 1992), 8. Jenkins, Re-Thinking History, 5–26. Kennedy, “The Decline of Nationalistic History in the West,” 77–100. Jenkins, Re-Thinking History. Mason, Expansion, Trade and Industry. Richard Cootes, Medieval Realms (Surrey: Thomas Nelson, 1992), 52–54, 67– 77. Colin Shephard and Alan Large, Re-Discovering Medieval Realms: Britain, 1066– 1500 (London: John Murray, 2001), 7–8. Phillips, History Teaching, Nationhood and the State, 22–23. Skouros, New History, 7. Ibid., 50. See, for example, Michael Billig, Susan Condor, Derek Edwards, Mike J. Gane, David Middleton, and Alan Radley, Ideological Dilemmas: A Social Psychology of Everyday Thinking (London: Sage, 1988); Stuart Hall, “The Question of Cultural Identity,” in Modernity and Its Future, Stuart Hall, David Held, and Tony McGrew, ed. (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1992), 273–316; Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (New York: Routledge, 1994); Manuel Castells, The Power of Identity (London: Blackwell, 1997); and Zygmunt Bauman, Identity (Cambridge: Polity, 2004). See, for example, John Berger, Ways of Seeing (London: Penguin, 1972), 8; Stephen J. Ball, “What Is Policy? Texts, Trajectories and Toolboxes,” in Sociology of Education: Major Themes, Vol. IV: Politics and Policies, Stephen Ball, ed. (London: Routledge, 2001), 1831. Eleftherios Klerides, “National Cultural Identity, Discourse Analysis and Comparative Education,” in International Handbook of Comparative Education, Robert Cowen and Andreas M. Kazamias, ed. (Dordrecht: Springer, 2009), 1237–1244.

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