A Walk on the Wey and Arun Canal

An unrestored part of the Wey and Arun canal

Back in days remembered best in sepia, the school children of this land used to study British social and economic history 1700 to 1945. This would give the successful students an O Level in History.

This wasn’t the study of war or conquest or empire, this was the study of how a small island nation became great - innovation, reform, experimentation and science. Throw in liberty, religious tolerance, property rights and you have an alternative history of Britain to combat the modern narrative of “It was all slavery, innit?”

Isambard Kingdom Brunel, Abraham Darby, Josiah Wedgwood, The Enclosure Acts, The Duke of Bridgewater, Robert Stephenson, William Wilberforce, The Great Reform Act all roll off the tongue of English of a certain vintage. The landmark acts of Parliament, the social reformers, the dark satanic mills, the sheep fanciers and anti Malthusians, all flash by in a parade of not quite forgotten factoids.

One of the accelerators of the industrial revolution was ‘canal mania’ - the twenty or thirty years before the advent and mass adoption of railways. Canals could move bulk commodities long distances safely and efficiently. Britain became criss-crossed by a network of canals, linking cities to the sea, factories to their markets. The longboat, pulled by horses along countless towpaths, complicated series of locks, was one of the unsung heroes of our island story.

But it wasn’t to last.

A restored part of the canal with bridge

The railways were faster and could carry more and for further distances. Gradually the canals were abandoned as goods transferred to rail. Slowly the canals disappeared, bit by bit, one by one. They were neglected, infilled, allowed to rot as nature took its course.

Which brings me to The Wey and Arun Canal.

The canal was built between 1813 and 1816 to link the river Wey in Surrey with the River Arun in Sussex. This vital link would thus connect London with the South Coast. But it was soon eclipsed by the railways and never brought in enough traffic to make it viable. It closed in 1871 and gradually was left to rot and re-wild.

I was there a couple of weekends ago. Storm Dennis was coming in hard, the wind was howling, the rain was falling and so - in Tim World - this meant “go for a hike”. Resolving to see somewhere different, a few clicks on Google got me to Loxwood and the Wey and Arun Canal. Hiking boots, walking trousers, bobble hat and Mars bar packed, off I went!

The story of this abandoned canal is one with an evolving happy ending. Since 1970, a preservation society has been gradually reclaiming this old waterway; getting planning permissions, digging it out, repairing bridges and locks, organising professional workers and armies of volunteers. They’ve restored several miles to make it navigable again. They have plans to get the whole canal operational. Big dreams.

I chose a walk incorporating both the restored and unrestored portions, starting and finishing in Loxwood. Technically this was a four mile hike but given the weather, the mud, my unfamiliarity with the route and a failing iPhone battery, it seemed a somewhat longer endeavour. But I live for wind and rain, soft challenges and middle-class war stories.

The restored part of the canal was like any other canal in a beautiful part of the country. The dreadful weather meant I had it all to myself. I walked along the tow path, dodged the falling branches and contemplated the rain on the water. What interested me more though was the unrestored the sections of the canal - untouched since the nineteenth century and left to their own devices. In places there was no flow of water, in others just a trickle. Obstructions abounded - trees grew right in the middle of where a canal was still clearly defined. Farmers had created the own bridges and accesses that cut the canal into pieces. Seeing this made me appreciate the restored part even more. What labours and fortitude must the merry volunteers of the Wey and Arun Canal Trust have suffered to turn basically a dip in the landscape into a functioning canal?

 

I turned away from the canal up the marvellously named Rosemary Lane (When I was in service in Rosemary Lane*) and then headed cross country back towards Loxwood. Across field and dale, woodland and track I wandered, head down.

There’s a point on a walk where - after stepping in one too many muddy puddles - you no longer beat yourself up about opting for hiking boots and not knee high wellies. You see, walking along woodland trails in mid Feb with a full on storm blowing was, shall we say, difficult. My hiking boots sank into the mud and got soaked (checking today, they still are). I got soaked. My phone ran out of battery. But I ate my Mars bar and found my own way back to Loxwood.

The solitude allowed me to ponder those long ago, semi forgotten lessons in British social and economic history. In truth it was a dry subject matter - no villainous Tudors lopping heads off, or epic Crown against Commons clashes or even little England alone against the united forces of fascism 1940. But walking along this partially restored piece of our industrial revolution got me thinking; it’s the inventors, the doers, the makers and builders that really make the lasting changes, isn’t it? What lasts is not the generals but the engineers. Canal mania was a brief but intense time in our development but they helped get us to where we are. Even in the wind, rain and mud

Julian: The Great or The Apostate?

Repost from November 2016 with updates. Where Tim discusses fourth century Roman history. Note, at this time, the Empire was well used to having more than one Emperor.

The Emperor Constantius II was a right bastard. For example, the massacre of the princes - where he killed off his male relatives in Constantinople during a family gathering following the death of his father Constantine The Great in 337 - was just the sort of ‘real’ history that gives Game of Thrones legitimacy.

One nephew that survived the cull was Julian. A bookish and pious prince, he was spared because he was so young and, well, a bit of a nerd. But ten years later - following the overthrow of Western emperor Constans – cousin Constantius needed a partner to share in the burden of the imperial purple. Turning first to Gallus, Julian's older brother – who he later killed - Constantius eventually elevated Julian into the family business as Caesar of the West in 355.

Here, in Gaul, the boy became a man. After kicking some serious German butt at The Battle of Strasbourg and other conflicts, Julian became popular with his legions. Cousin Constantius became jealous and there followed lots of 'come and have a go if you think you're hard enough' correspondence between the two emperors until Julian marched East at the head of an army in 361. And then – miraculously - Cousin Constantius died suddenly leaving young Julian the sole master of the Roman world. What to do?

Well, what Julian did - in his brief two year reign – was turn the clock back on Christianity and attempt to re-establish the old gods. You know, get rid of all this Christian rubbish legitimised by Constantine. He also thought Persia was up for a bit of Roman steel and so marched off deep into the Sasanian Empire, never to return. Killed by a random spear, Julian left his troops miles from safety on the Euphrates and in the feeble hands of his short-lived successor Jovian.

So why do I tell the story of Julian the Apostate? 

Well, unlike his uncle Constantine (the Great), he only had 2 years to make his mark. Constantine had 31 – with the 13 years in sole charge of the Empire. Constantine changed the course of history. Julian however flamed out quickly and his successors Valentinian, Valens and Theodosius reaffirmed the Christian hegemony (give or take the odd Arian, or semi Arian, heresy). Julian was an anomaly and Western history writes that Constantine looms large whereas Julian does not.

Can one person change the course of history? Or – as in this case – a solitary spear? What if Julian had lived and reigned twenty years? Would he have quashed Christianity and reduced it into a cult, one of many, like Isis, Mithra or Sol Invictus, that bubbled around in the later Roman Empire? It’s possible that Christianity could have gone underground only to re-emerge stronger, much as it did during the persecution of Diocletian sixty years earlier. It’s impossible to say. It’s a little like powerful newspapers; do they lead opinion or merely reflect it?

What’s of interest though for those who seek parallels in history, who look for patterns to help with understanding the present day, is the theory that there are turning points – yes kings and emperors – but social, religious, military too, that alter the course of history. The trick is to spot whether events have produced a Constantine the Great or a Julian The Apostate.

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In Praise of the USA

“O God the Lord, the strength of my salvation, thou hast covered my head in the day of battle.”

— Psalm 140 (KJV)

There's a strain of European opinion that looks down on the USA. They assume superiority in a sneering de haut en bas manner which never fails to infuriate me. With Donald Trump legitimately elected to the White House they can now indulge this awful vice even more vociferously (witness the pathetic demonstrations against Trump in London this summer as real dictators and thugs get the red carpet treatment with no protestations).

How short is the memory...

It was only 1989 that the Berlin Wall came down and that shred by shred the Iron Curtain was ripped away, an iron curtain, lest we forget that had held half of Europe in terror and prison camps for forty years (2018 is the 50th anniversary of the brutal suppression of the Prague Spring  and the 70th anniversary of the communist take over of Czechoslovakia.) Does anyone know this? Or care? 

But what forced the eventual emancipation of Eastern Europe? Sure, Western Europe banded together into NATO, and one mustn't forget our own Iron Lady, Margaret Thatcher, but it was the muscle and power and success of capitalism of the US that won the Cold War. Ultimately it was Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush and the resolve of all Americans, Democrat or Republican - people and Congress - that defeated this evil cult, communism and freed Eastern Europe. We should thank them more for this salvation from evil.

Omaha Beach, May 2018. Many Americans died here for the freedom of Europe from Nazis

So this year, I went to Normandy around the start of June as I always do. The residents of Normandy remember the mighty battle here in 1944 every year with a solemn punctiliousness that is moving. It's here, and maybe nowhere else in France, they remember the sacrifices of the US (and the UK and Canada) in liberating Europe. Driving down the Contentin peninsula in late May, I called in at Omaha Beach, scene of the most bloody fighting on D-Day (as graphically dramatised in Saving Private Ryan). It was here that American boys stormed the beach under heavy fire. Between 2000 and 5000 never got off the beach. It was a slaughter. But American grit and numbers got them through, eventually. Nazi Europe had been breached.

I took photos. My daughter asked me why I was taking pictures of the lone American flag fluttering above the beach as all around coach parties of solemn Americans wandered silently. I turned my face away, tears probably more than glistening. 

What could I say? That 74 years before, thousands of Americans (and their Canadian and British counterparts) stormed these very tranquil sands of this coastline to liberate Europe - the Europe now occupied by the smug EU - from fascism. Real fascism. Real Nazis. Killing people in gas chambers fascism. Torture and death of political opponents fascism. The killing of dissidents Nazis. 

Yes, the real bad guys (with the communists) of recent history.

And we now get people on the streets in the UK (and the USA regrettably) - ignorant of the sacrifice of young American boys on the beaches of France or the resolve of the US against the horror of communism -  shouting that their current US political opponents in democratic elections are fascists. Or Nazis.

Fucking idiots. Learn some history.

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Harold Wilson and the Decline of the West

“The main essentials of a successful Prime Minister are sleep and a sense of history.”

— Harold Wilson

I read history at university. I read history now.

What is the difference between the guided and autodidactic versions of myself? I guess specialism would be an obvious difference. Now, I tend to concentrate on Ancient Rome (both Republic and Imperial) whereas in the past I was more piecemeal in my choices.

As I write this, and think about my courses at university, I'm confused about what I actually studied - which periods of history were on my formal curriculum. In a way this haziness is a product of Sussex's convoluted degree structure which forced me to read Marx, Durkheim, Weber and Freud alongside my actual chosen subject. Actual history though, what do I remember? I know I studied American presidential history and wrote about Eisenhower and the Civil Rights Acts in the 1950's.

Looking through my personal reading record (yes I've kept note of every book I've read since 1982) I see that my reading whilst at university didn't support my actual degree. If I did specialise it was on recent UK and USA politics, the Wilson government of 1964-70 and maybe American post-war politics, Kennedy and Nixon being notable.

The Wilson government (Wilson, Callaghan, Healey, Jenkins, Crossman, Castle, Brown, Benn) seemed populated with giants. Giants who had served their country who meant well but were, ultimately, ineffectual. Though they did pass all the great liberalising measures - legalising divorce, homosexuality, abortion, Equal Pay - the country still seemed worse off in 1970 than it did in 1964.

So, why have I moved my locus from recent political history to the ancient world?

Tim of university days is different from Tim now. Then, I had worked in Parliament, I delivered political leaflets, supported campaigns, joined parties, engaged in politics. Now, whilst I keep up with the news, my expectations of personal involvement (apart from cryptic articles on this blog), is zero. My engagement in the political process is reduced to voting and cynicism.  

I suppose we all become disillusioned at some point.

And Rome? It's remote but foundational to that much derided concept - western civilisation. I seek answers from the beginnings, not the ephemeral. Optimates v populists, Senate v people, dictators v Senate, a common law and trading bloc across Europe, paganism v Christianity, the over-running of the Empire, stoicism; these are ideas that one can study dryly but whose resonance reverberates even now. Who can read about the Goths being allowed to cross the Danube in 376 and fail to see any parallels with today? Does one learn from history, does it repeat itself, does it rhyme or is it different each time? I don't know but I do know we've been here before.

But..

Who cares, ultimately? Wish I'd have read Law instead.

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Happy St George's Day!

Whilst undoubtably a great Emperor, Diocletian (284/305), has a couple of historical black marks against his name.

1) The Tetrarchy (a system 2 senior emperors and 2 junior emperors). Diocletian saw the problem of one man ruling such a vast empire and also observed the chaos created by usurping generals in the mid third century. The system was supposed to provide stable government with senior emperors bringing on juniors who in turn would have Caesars to support them. It failed however as soon as Diocletian resigned and the renewed civil war was only finished when Constantine eliminated Licinius in 324 and became sole emperor (though he in turn, left the empire to his three sons and two nephews and so created a another bout of civil wars after his death).

2) His persecution of the christians in 303. Diocletian - prompted by his anti Christian junior Caesar Galerius, imposed strict restrictions on Christians, banishing them from civil service and the army, making them hand over their scriptures and, most tellingly, perform a pagan sacrifice. Many Christians refused and were killed in a variety of awful ways. It is here that St George comes in. A top general in the army, but a Christian, George refused to recant his Christianity and so was martyred by having his head chopped off after torture. Hence St George. 

This story is probably a bit more likely than some nonsense about a knight slaying a dragon and rescuing a princess. The persecution did take place and many martyrs were created. To be honest, this is a better, more interesting story than the dragon rubbish. Why is it we were never taught this at school? It combines classical history, the early birth of christianity and - yes - fables. 

Anyway, whatever, Happy St George's Day.

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Dreadnought

When I was younger (so much younger than today?), I used to collect many things. Old coins, bus tickets, soldiers, Doctor Who novelisations and old battleship postcards. I recently scanned those very cards so that I might share then on this site and save the images for posterity amongst a similarly nerdy community.

I also used to read books about warships but the ones that especially caught my interest were 20th Century battleships, starting with the eponymous HMS Dreadnought (1906).

The arms race between Britain and Germany before the WW1 produced many huge ships - battleships, battlecruisers - as Britain sought to maintain her naval dominance and Germany sought to catch up. This race is classically cited as one of the causes of World War One along with the tinderbox of the Balkans, the Great Power alliance system, colonialism and German military ambitions. 

I've just finished Robert K Massie's book Dreadnought, a history so stately and magisterial you want to salute it as it hoves into view and leaves you bobbing in its wake. This near 1000 page book recounts the road to war told principally, though not exclusively, through the lens of the unfolding naval arms race. Thus we get to know characters such as Tirpitz, Jackie Fisher, a young Winston Churchill, the mercurial Kaiser Wilhelm 2.

The book dwells on the interconnected European royal families - how through marriage the crowned heads of Britain, Germany and Russian were grandmothers, uncles and cousins to each other. Famously, the Kaiser was half British, spoke English without an accent and revered his grandmother Victoria (he was present at her death). He was also an honourary admiral of the British fleet and often used to wear his admiral uniform.

The book describes how the scramble for colonies - a scramble that Germany came late to the party - led the Kaiser to want to protect trade routes which then generated a demand for a navy. Add Admiral Tirpitz into the mix and you have an arms race in the making.

Britain never had much of an army. As an island we always relied on the navy to defend our shores and so any acceleration of building plans would inevitably lead to Britain building more herself. This was - in British minds - not a nice-to-have but existential. First Sea Lord Jackie Fisher - an explosive character - also used this time to design a ship so far advanced of all previous ships, it made the others immediately obsolete. Once Dreadnought was built, the arm race started from zero again. Game on!

However, I left the book feeling somewhat depressed. The road from Sarajavo to the trenches (July / August 1914) is a slowly evolving car crash. How did the assassination of the heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire in the Balkans lead to the slaughter of the Western Front? 

1) Austria wanted to punish Serbia. Humiliate her.

2) Russia would not allow Austria to take over Serbia.

3) Germany would step in if Austria and Russia went to war.

4) France was bound to an alliance with Russia.

5) The German General Staff devised a two front war with Russia and France where the German army went through Belgium and took out France in six weeks (not unlike the previous war 40 years earlier) before starting on the Russians.

6) Britain was bound by treaty to protect Belgium's neutrality. Moreover, Britain did not want a potential hostile power with naval bases just across the channel. The German fleet would not be allow to parade in the English Channel shelling the Northern coast of France.

So there we have it. A shot triggered an escalating series of 'if you do this, I will do that' responses. Reading through the book as it gets to its climax one is left with the sheer inevitability of war and the powerlessness of politicians (Grey and Bethmann-Hollweg for instance) who couldn't prevent the outcome though seemingly they were in charge. A sobering lesson.

So did the big ships cause war? No. No they didn't. Although the one large naval action Jutland was a score draw that favoured Germany on the day, in the end the superiority of the British fleet kept the German High Seas Fleet at port. And then, after the war, the captured High Seas Fleet scuttled themselves at Scapa Flow where some of them still rest to this day - permanent reminders of the pre-war arms race.

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USS Texas a pre-war Dreadnought of course still floats as a permanent museum.

Whispers and Echoes

As we all know, Theodosius I was the last unified emperor of both the Eastern and Western halves of the Roman Empire. Clearing up the mess left by Valans at Adrianople, he battled Goths, usurpers and heretics to Nicene orthodoxy in a time of tumult for the Empire. 

It was also an interesting time in the history of the early church. During Theodosius' reign, Bishop Ambrose of Milan formulated the doctrine that whilst the Emperor ruled matters temporal, the Church was in charge of matters spiritual. This was an important development in the history of Western thought. One of the Emperors' many titles was Pontiff Maximus - the highest religious office in the Roman World. By the act of giving away this authority, the later emperors allowed the church to control both religious life on earth and - more importantly - the path to salvation in the afterlife. This segregation of church and state persisted until at least the Renaissance and, arguably, through to the Bishop of Rome even now.

Ambrose was a combative sort who liked to defend the church's rights. He excommunicated Theodosius following a massacre of civilians in Thessalonica in 390. More interesting to the modern world, perhaps, was his meddling in imperial matters. A christian mob burnt down a synagogue in Callinicum, Mesopotamia and Theodosius ordered the local bishop to rebuild the temple. Ambrose argued that Theodosius should retract this as he was ordering the local bishop to act against either truth or death. 

Theodosius backed down and the synagogue in Callinicum was not rebuilt.

Today Callincum goes by its Syrian name of Raqqa. 

History is somewhat wider than living memories.

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I Swear It's Not Too Late

“No more: - where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise.”

— Thomas Gray (Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College)

It's the gaps that hurt...

Helping with one of my girls' history homework recently. This is a pretty safe bet for a bit of daddy show-off time. I mean what can schools throw at me that I don't know? Backwards. Upside down. Usually, the only problem with me helping out with the homework is a) that it's either The Bloody Tudors because 1485-1603 is like, the only time in history. Ever.  b) Wet behind the ears 22 year old teachers doing lessons on how Britain was a racist, imperialist piece of shit that exploited the rest of the world and so caused all subsequent poverty, famine and wars with sidelines in - don't you know that Islam kinda invented everything in the 12th Century and that Christians persecuted everyone, everywhere and like, SLAVERY! man. Only Britain and the US had slavery and it was only brought to an end by some freed slaves doing a dance somewhere and, who's William Wilberforce and the West Africa Squadron anyway? Yeah.

But history lessons... Although the actual topics within the eras the school picks may be bollocks on stilts, I know the broad facts, right? Usually true but this week it was all about the pre Civil War reign of Charles I. And I know jack shit about this. Well, okay, I know more than 95% of the population, but that's a pretty low bar. Ignorance isn't bliss. I'm tortured by my lack of knowledge. It physically upsets me. Why don't I know? How can I be a sentient human being if I don't know about the Ship Monies? I'm the anti-noble savage. I have to know everything.

And as I write this three general thoughts occur to me:-

1) The shocking ignorance of our 'leaders' who feel they can invade Afghanistan, Syria, Libya with no understanding, appreciation or curiosity about the history of where they are committing troops. How can supposed sophisticated politicians make life or death decisions from total ignorance? It's really quite sickening. 

2) The flip side. Clearly, ignorance can drive decision making but pursuit of knowledge can make one appear weak, unsure; unable to make a decision. I have a split personality; on some things I always need more data before I form an opinion; on other things - mainly personal - I make my mind up in nano seconds. But for historical pronouncements, I've found it expedient to temporise fully aware that my high level of knowledge only makes me more conscious that I actually know nothing.

3) The universal truths of history. Always forgotten. Every generation thinks it is the first.

So what is the point of knowledge? What is the point of studying history? I heard the drumbeat of war for Afghanistan. For Syria. For Libya. It seemed wrong at the time, worse now. These days - inexplicably it's Russia that's the MSM bad guy. Why? Who is pulling the strings?  I get bombarded on TV and radio about Russia. Trump and Russia. But for what end? - Ukraine? Crimea? Georgia? Sanctions? Who understands these counties anyway? This region? I find ignorance so all-prevailing that the only sensible position to take is scepticism. 

And the main way we can fight back is to read. Read history. Ancient history. Understand the Renaissance. The Enlightenment. Understand why we are where we are where we are. It is no accident. See patterns. There is 'nothing new under the sun'. And then withdraw your support. Not in my name. Vote for anti war candidates. 

I'll leave you with one thought to think about. What is the difference between Russia/Syria booting nutters out of Aleppo and the US/UK/etc/Iraq booting nutters out of Mosul? One was daily charged with war crimes, the others painted as liberators. I see no difference. The bombs still kill innocents whether you're an evil bastard or saintly. All is vexation. And vanity.

Interestingly, Aleppo conjures up images of battles long gone, long forgotten, bigger, more catastrophic. I look at a map and see that Marcus Crassus met his end with his legions nearby at Carrhae. One of the great disasters of the Ancient World. Is that comforting? Possibly. 

“And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars; see that ye be not troubled; for all things must come to pass; but the end is not yet. For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be famines, and pestilences, and earthquakes in divers places.

All these are the beginnings of sorrows.”

— Matthew 24: 6-8 (KJV)

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And here's the Byrds singing the wisdom of Solomon (Ecclesiastes 3) with the tear-jerking modern addition of 'I swear it's not too late' after "A Time for Peace'.

The Great or The Apostate?

Where Tim discusses fourth century Roman history. Note, at this time, the Empire was well used to having more than one Emperor.

The Emperor Constantius II was a right bastard. The massacre of the princes - where he killed off his male relatives in Constantinople during a family gathering following the death of his father Constantine The Great in 337 - was just the sort of ‘real’ history that gives Game of Thrones legitimacy.

One nephew that survived the cull was Julian. A bookish and pious prince, he was spared because he was so young and, well, a bit of a nerd. But ten years later - following the overthrow of Western emperor Constans – cousin Constantius needed a partner to share in the burden of the imperial purple. Turning first to Gallus, Julian's older brother – who he later killed - Constantius eventually elevated Julian into the family business as Caesar of the West in 355.

Here the boy became a man. After kicking some serious German butt, Julian became popular with his legions. Cousin Constantius got jealous and there followed lots of 'come and have a go if you think you're hard enough' correspondence between the two emperors until Julian marched East at the head of an army in 361. And then – miraculously - Cousin Constantius died leaving young Julian the sole master of the Roman world. What to do?

Well, what Julian did - in his brief two year reign – was turn the clock back on Christianity and attempt to re-establish the old gods. You know, get rid of all this Christian rubbish legitimised by Constantine. He also thought Persia was up for a bit of Roman steel and so marched off deep into the Sasanian Empire, never to return. Killed by a random spear, Julian left his troops miles from safety on the Euphrates and in the feeble hands of his short-lived successor Jovian.

So why do I tell the story of Julian the Apostate? 

Well, unlike his uncle Constantine (the Great), he only had 2 years to make his mark. Constantine had 31 – with 13 in sole charge of the Empire. Constantine changed the course of history. Julian flamed out quickly and his successors Valentinian, Valens and Theodosius reaffirmed the Christian hegemony (give or take the odd Arian, or semi Arian, heresy). Julian was an anomaly and Western history writes that Constantine looms large whereas Julian does not.

Can one person change the course of history? Or – as in this case – a solitary spear? What if Julian had lived and reigned twenty years? Would he have quashed Christianity and reduced it into a cult, one of many, like Isis, Mithra or Sol Invictus, that bubbled around in the later Roman Empire? It’s possible that Christianity could have gone underground only to re-emerge stronger, much as it did during the persecution of Diocletian sixty years earlier. It’s impossible to say. It’s a little like powerful newspapers; do they lead opinion or merely reflect it?

What’s of interest though for those who seek parallels in history, who look for patterns to help with understanding the present day, is the theory that there are turning points – yes kings and emperors – but social, religious, military too, that alter the course of history. The trick is to spot whether events have produced a Constantine the Great or a Julian The Apostate.

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