Reenactments and the Realities of Historical Warfare

Do reenactments convey the realities of historical warfare? Well that's a question I tackled over at The Activist History Review this week. I was honored to have been asked by one of the editors to write up an article that discusses how reenactments do or don't show the realities of war, during a time that we honor our veterans--past and present. Since the article is on a topic I would normally address on this blog, I'm sharing the link here. As always, I hope you enjoy reading it and--more importantly--I hope it sparks conversation and contemplation.
While you're there, be sure to also check out some of the other articles!

"Who Are The Good Guys?": The Role of Reenactments in Conveying the Realities of Historical Warfare

Finally, and most importantly, to the veterans reading this article, I thank you for your service. While I can never truly understand or relate to the hardships you may have experienced, please know that your service--the sacrifices both seen and unseen and the lost comrades--will never be forgotten.

If you would not be forgotten...

Following Benjamin Franklin's advice, I thought I'd write something that might be worth the reading. In his Poor Richard's Almanac for May 1738, Franklin wrote one of my favorite phrases from this period: "if you wou’d not be forgotten, As soon as you are dead and rotten, Either write things worth reading, or do things worth the writing."

In a previous article, I addressed how reenactors can better engage the visiting public and make content relevant to their daily lives. After all, we want them to have a good time and to come back. Recently though, I've noticed that the issue isn't so much encouraging visitors to return, but rather it's allowing reenactors to return (just Google "future of reenacting in the US"). I don't mean to claim that reenactors are victims to public scrutiny, rather we need to prove to the public that we are a responsible source of historical information and interpretation. With an increased public enthusiasm for pulling historically-repugnant and presently-irrelevant statues from their pedestals, responsible and accurate public education for our history needs to fill the void. As living historians, we have a unique role in society and relationship with the public that almost compels us to step forward and responsibly teach the history.

Our Role

Before getting into the good stuff, we need to establish some ground rules first. Living historians are interpreters who portray what they learn from various sources. Our goal should be to relate what we learned from our sources to the public through an engaging "snapshot" of past events. As stated in the past, we are teachers whether we agreed to that title or not. If you work at a museum/historical site or just show up to an event dressed up, your appearance alone will present a history lesson to those who look at you.

Like any teacher-student relationship, if any learning is going to happen, the students have to trust you. If they can't trust you, they won't believe what you're teaching them, they'll consider it outright invalid, and/or they will contest it. So from the very beginning, you need to be well-informed and you need to be prepared. Too little information or a lack of confidence in your audience will lead you to trivialize or to make gross generalizations that lead to misunderstandings of larger concepts (i.e. the phrase from the Declaration of Independence, "all men are created equal," is a generalization that might lead some to believe that everyone was treated equally, until the historical context is explained). Ultimately, that may even permit members of the public to make inaccurate claims based on misunderstood or misinterpreted historical evidence to further modern issues.

I'm all for connecting the history you're interpreting to modern issues. The Museum of the American Revolution does this beautifully in a number of ways. One example of this is the idea that indigenous peoples, enslaved peoples and their descendants, and immigrants have always contributed in significant ways to our country (both during the Revolution and since then to today). When presenting your history through a relevant modern topic, especially hot-buttons ones (i.e. immigration, sexual preference, race, etc.), know your facts so that you don't fall into the trap of generalizing, and avoid modern biases that would derail your presentation. If you find yourself offering a ton of analysis instead of facts, take a step back and reevaluate your approach. Certainly help visitors to understand why the history is significant--some analysis is required--but at the same time, know the difference between historical significance and propaganda. You can take a horse to water, but you can't make him drink it. Similarly, you can bludgeon visitors with your modern take on historical events; they may listen and agree ("yup, uhuh, I hear ya") but there is also a good chance they'll consider you biased and unreliable. As a teacher, you want everyone to learn and appreciate what you have to say, not just those who'll agree with you.

"The defenestration of Prague was an inside job!"

Being Relevant

To contest the assertions that reenacting is a dying hobby and that it's so politically charged now that no one will want to host a reenactment, I instead suggest that reenacting is an excellent way to teach history. Full disclosure: I agree that people who represent hate or oppression in some form don't deserve a prominent and glorified stage for eternity. We place on a pedestal symbols of ideas that we desire to emulate and consider representative of who we are. Instead of fostering ignorant idolatry, we should instead glorify the pursuit of knowledge and lift education up onto the empty platforms once occupied by the "heroes" of an oppressive past.

To remain relevant we need to become an accurate outlet of unbiased un-trivialized information, not a hobby that glorifies outdated and ignorant ideas. Teach history, not propaganda. If we want reenacting to continue, we need to be seen by society as people who are serious about their responsibility to teaching history. One of the biggest problems our society has with certain historical monuments is that they glorify the individual and what they stood for. Removing them is not about erasing the past or disrespecting the men and women who died in the past, but rather a de-glorification of the individuals and the ideologies they were known for supporting. If we are seen as glorifiers of ignorant and inhumane ideas in history, then we will be removed from the same pedestal as those monuments. However, if we can present history from multiple perspectives and place it in its historical context while making meaningful connections, we will have effectively restored confidence in living history. We will have secured our place in society as reliable educators and sources of social, cultural, and political history.

Society could make incredible use of living historians. We are a means for the public to engage with history that books, movies, and statues just can't do. Living historians are in the best position to eliminate ignorance through sharing information and concepts in a way that engages most of the public's senses. We just need to insure that what we teach is supported with evidence, is not reliant on generalizations that serve to trivialize history or to misinform, and is presented in a way that is meaningful and relevant, but at the same time is not propaganda.

What all of this boils down to, for me anyways, is that humans are by nature experiential learners (i.e. by smelling the smoke and witnessing a battle, we are more likely to remember the event being portrayed and relate to it than if we read it in a book). Monuments are static displays that glorify people and the ideas they stood for. They don't move, they can't tell you their history, and they cannot explain why they're there. Living historians offer dynamic displays of information that can do all of these things. If done responsibly, living history will have an important and entertaining role in the future. Let's just all agree to not stand on the empty stone platforms where archaic principles and hateful ideas once stood in their glorified adamant, but to actively interact with and educate our future by standing on the firm ground among them.

Thanks for reading!

Reenacting in a Modern World

Finding Our Place

Photo: Wilson Freeman, Drifting Focus Photography

If you're a reenactor and you have a Facebook account, chances are you've seen the articles and videos with reenactors who are branded as oddballs, racists, etc. This is not a new phenomenon--academics have typically looked down on reenacting, too, as a world of hobby-historians who take creative license when they interpret history (after all, history can't be fun, but must be studied with a careful and objective eye). Ironically, whenever I've seen these articles or videos that denounce reenactors, they were posted by reenactors who felt unjustly represented. So how was this dichotomy born?

"Just a few bad apples."

Just the other day, I read a great blog article from the Dreamstress about costuming etiquette. In one of her points, the author explains that every costumer/reenactor represents the wider living history world, for better or worse. She asks the reader to consider this whenever dressed up (wearing the "uniform" of the hobby, as it were). A kind and generous manner will evoke positive responses from others while a snobbish and dismissive attitude will brand all reenactors as such by those who experienced that individual. This is generally why those reenactors who posted the negative articles and videos about reenactors typically argue that the journalist unfortunately found the "bad apples" of the hobby.

To give an example, let's look at this video by Vice. The long story short is that the journalist Wilbert Cooper--an African American man--was asked by a Confederate reenactor why he didn't join the Confederate unit. His reasoning was that since the Union did not practice racial integration in their units, but that the Confederacy did, that historically, Cooper would should have joined the South. Cooper felt affronted since, to reenact with the Confederacy would mean in a way to support a cause that historically championed the institution of slavery.

Reenacting And Race

So was it fair for the Confederate reenactor to ask this and thus unfair for Cooper to react the way he did? Or was Cooper justified?

Historically-speaking, there were no integrated Confederate units; more often than not, the black men who served in the Confederate army were placed into segregated units and were used for labor (not issued firearms). On occasion, some individuals did pick up a gun during battle, but that was a rare occurrence. So the reenactor was wrong on that account, but he technically wasn't wrong when he said that the Union didn't practice integration (neither side did).

So what about Cooper's reaction? He was absolutely justified, but that's not my opinion. As long as he felt insecure there's no changing it; that was his truth. That's also what got reported in the video. A white person who has not been persecuted because of the color of his skin cannot tell a black person who, perhaps daily, sees racial prejudice how he should perceive of an insensitive comment. Yes, the reenactor was talking to Cooper about joining a group of actors, but those actors are recreating the history of a country that supported slavery, who's approximately 3,000 black "soldiers" were used mostly as slave labor.

To offer another, albeit fictional example, it would be wrong for a person who reenacts a Nazi to address someone who has publicly declared himself as a Jew, asking him to join the Nazi reenactors (with the premise that the Jew would reenact the Jewish Police Service). That would be very wrong. Some might argue that because World War II was more recent than the Civil War, this example is invalid, but the truth is, both are equally wrong for two big reasons: they both require the reenactor to understand that the individual they're addressing was victimized by their historical "side" and the examples also require that the reenactor tries to justify the negative aspect of their side with a "but we did make exceptions!" (i.e. "we did support slavery, but we did have black soldiers," or "we did execute millions of Jews, but we also hired some to work with us"). Thankfully, I haven't heard of this latter example happening.

Unfortunately, racism is not the only problem that needs addressing in the living history community. One that is perhaps more pervasive due to the number of women in the hobby and the unfortunately few instances of public outcry is sexism. Like racism, sexism is a major issue in society today, and so it finds itself in living history. One issue I see and hear about a lot in 18th century reenacting is how some female camp followers are forced into cooking duty for their unit as the men soldier around. Historically speaking, cooking was part of a soldier's daily life; if they didn't want to cook, they could pay camp followers for their culinary service, but even that was rare. Instead, camp followers were often hired to clean laundry, mend clothing, and they sometimes also served as nurses. So from an historical standpoint, having your unit's camp followers do your cooking is just inaccurate. The unfair part? They feel chained to the kitchen (which can take a good deal of time for a large unit especially when cooking over a fire) and don't get to explore the event like the guys do. And I haven't even said anything about the historically sexist role of women fulfilling the "housekeeping" role for a family because their patriarchal society dictated what was "proper" for them.

So how can reenactors become more inclusive and fight rampant sexism? And how could Cooper's experience with the Confederate reenactor have been handled in such a way as to create a positive and comfortable living history environment?

One great take-away we can gather from this incident is that reenactors need to remember that it's still the 21st century. No matter how you're dressed, racist comments and sexist beliefs make you intolerant, hurtful, and unfriendly. If we as individuals represent a large community, we need to leave a good impression. We are also responsible for educating the public if we attend public events. Let's now look at what awareness of and sensitivity about modern issues can look like.

Presenting Race And Gender

When addressing race and gender as a living historian, you have to walk a fine but concrete line: there's the historical context within which you are reenacting and there's also the modern standard of respecting all humans. It is morally wrong for a white person to interpret historical racism as part of their persona--this should go without saying. Similarly, it is morally wrong for a male reenactor to perpetuate historically-sexist ideals around a living history site. You must always keep in mind that, despite wearing historical clothing, you are a 21st century human as is everyone else. That being said, I do not advocate for erasing the past; race and gender should be addressed, but because racism and sexism negatively affected so many people and parts of it are still alive today, we need to address it with care. This requires ceaseless research: reading and listening to stories from those who historically experienced the racism or sexism of the period as well as 20th and 21st century experiences. Hearing/reading modern experiences can help the living historian who may not have experienced it to better understand the wider context and to more tactfully realize a way to bring up the issue of racism or sexism in the reenacted period.

The best way to address the history of race and gender at a living history event is to plan it out first. If you follow the steps--goal, context, history, debrief--you can better prepare yourself and your audience for addressing sensitive issues.

So first, what is your goal? If you want to talk about it simply because "it needs to be talked about," there's a higher chance you'll get it wrong. Develop a clear goal--what you want your audience to get out of your presentation--before you work out the rest of the details. Three examples include: "women played a major role in the late-18th century army," "the White House--a symbol of a "free" nation--was built on the backs of slaves," or "the first black people in British North America arrived in chains, but were probably hired as indentured servants and eventually granted freedom by the Jamestown settlers."

After determining a goal, you should work out the details of your presentation--what you plan to explain to your audience. Within that though, you need to first consider two things: context and the history. When you first start your presentation, you should explain the role of race or gender in the society you're teaching about. It's often helpful to make connections to today. For example, if the society in the time period that you're representing supported the institution of slavery, mention that to your audience. Explain that although slavery was later abolished, issues around race are still prevalent. It's often also helpful if you explain here that while still prevalent, racism is abhorrent and none of the historical ideals of racism are accepted at your historical site. Similarly, gender can be contextualized by explaining that women did not have the same rights as men, and while we have made some strides in fixing this, it is still a patriarchal and sexist society. Pointing out that sexism is not tolerated here is a significant part of the context that you create. Establishing context is important as it sets the tone for your presentation while also teaching historical perspectives (i.e. "then" versus "now").

Once the context is explained, the history should naturally follow. This is usually the easy part for the living historian who has read-up on the topic. However, I do advise that if you plan to talk about race or gender, that the sources you draw from should be legitimate and unbiased and that you read many sources to get a wider perspective. As I wrote earlier, I recommend not just reading about historical race and gender, but also modern issues that relate to both. Knowing what to say and how to phrase things derives primarily from reading current publications on race and gender issues today.

The last planning step that I recommend is the "debrief." This is perhaps as crucial as establishing the context. This is the point after relating the history that you conclude your presentation, offer a "so what," and relate this back to today. This is when you remind your audience that everything you presented on happened X-number of years ago, but parts of that history still remain.

I recommend following this step-by-step planning process for any program or presentation, regardless of content. It basically follows the office presentation format of introduction, main points, and conclusion. When discussing sensitive issues though, each part needs to be meticulously planned so as to not offend the audience or relate inaccurate information, and because you represent living history. An audience that leaves an insensitive presentation will discredit not only your knowledge but the wider community of living historians (the example offered by Vice comes back to mind).

Walking The Fine Line

Presenting race and gender in sensitive ways to the public is a great way to improve the educational quality of your presentations as well as the image of reenactors. However, sexism inside the hobby is not just about presentation, it's also how you treat your own unit members. As I wrote earlier, women who followed an 18th century army rarely did the cooking. More often than not, they mended clothing, cleaned laundry, and served as nurses. These are phenomenal portrayals for camp followers to take up. These portrayals also draw the public in and allow the camp followers to talk about the skill they're representing and women's roles in a military camp. It's something to do that gets women out of the kitchen that they otherwise feel obligated to do (i.e. "none of us guys can cook, do you think you can handle it?" or "we're awfully busy marching around...") or are "volun-told" into doing it. Either the guys will figure out how to make cooking work or, worst-case scenario, you get to do some unit-shopping for a less sexist unit.

One other area I see a fair amount of is what reenactors sometimes call "women in ranks" or "galtrooping." The argument of old-style, male-centered units is that soldiering was done by men historically and therefore women can't portray soldiers. This needs to end. It's the 21st century--a time when we should theoretically be tolerant and inclusive. If a woman wants to portray a soldier, she should be afforded the opportunity to. Where it becomes an issue is if she is not held to the same standards as the men are. She is more than likely aware that, historically, only men were hired as soldiers, and so therefore, her appearance needs to reflect that. Steps should be taken to firstly pass herself off as a guy, and secondly, as a soldier. For more information on this, I refer you to my friend Wilson who published a wonderful article on his blog, Historically Speaking, offering advice to women who want to or already do portray male soldiers.

You Represent Living History

Photo: Alexa Price

This is what it all comes back to--you represent living history. You are a 21st century human who portrays an historical figure. You are not that person. You live in a modern world where we should be treating everyone equally and with respect. How you act outside of the living history community determines your character as a person, but how you act while dressed in kit has implications for the thousands of other reenactors that the people you encounter may meet. If we want to see a change in how the public views reenactors, we need to be that change. As someone who wants to hoist up living historians as positive examples and fonts of knowledge, I just ask my readers this:

1. Never forget that you and everyone around you are 21st century people who deserve respect.
2. Remember to approach modern sensitive issues with the awareness that they demand.
3. Do your research, and not just of historical things, but modern issues such as race and gender that may spill over into living history.

Thank you for reading! I hope this article inspires some change and gets fellow living historians thinking about the role of modern issues in reenacting. I'd love to hear what you thought in the comments section below.

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Upcoming Topics:

• Experimental Archaeology: On Drying, Curing, and Aging Tobacco

The Role of First-Person Interpretation

Photo Credit: Lee Winchester

First-person interpretation in a living-history context is when a reenactor adopts a specific persona and does not wander from it; they are that one person in that one year. Historic sites often use this method to make the site seem more "real" for the visitors. Or does it?

I was first inspired to write this post when I read the comments on a friend's Facebook posting. My friend tossed out a question as her status about what her friends felt was "the opposite of fun." One of the responses, from a teacher, was: "historical reenactors [when] I'm supposed to indulge their solo performance like it's normal. It gives me the WORST secondhand embarrassment of all time." What surprised me was not this comment but my lack of surprise at reading it.

What if most visitors really just get lost right from the beginning with the initial greeting from a first-person interpreter? Perhaps you've been to one of these historic sites or events--maybe you did first-person interpretation yourself. When the historical figure greeted the visitor ("Good day," "Madam," "Sir," etc.), how did the visitor react? In my experience, I've seen them hesitate, uncomfortably return the same reply, not respond while walking away, or sometimes just awkwardly reply "hi." Regardless of their response, they've almost always crept back within themselves, becoming more reluctant to respond for fear of "ruining the moment," answering in a way that is inappropriate to the period (i.e. using 21st century phrasing), or non-consentingly feeding a performance, as in the earlier example. So does first-person historical interpretation have a role in living history when the goal is education and visitor-involvement?

My personal philosophy at living history events is not to be in character while talking to the public. I want the spectators to be comfortable to the point that they will ask their own questions and actively learn. When put on the spot or compelled to partake in a performance unexpectedly, most people experience anxiety and embarrassment. If a spectator purchased a ticket to see a reenactment or visit a museum, they consented to a form of learning involving the receiving of information. What if you bought a ticket to see a movie, sat in your seat at the theater, began watching the film, and then suddenly the movie pauses and one of the actors greets you and expects you to respond in front of the audience without providing any context or information? It'd probably startle you and, being put on-the-spot, you might feel unsure of how to answer properly and perhaps a little embarrassed. But what if you knew this was going to happen?

Bridging the Gap

First-person interpretation has an important role in living history, but one that must be carefully instituted otherwise it would lose its raison d'etre. I believe that there are two main "disconnects" between spectators and first-person interpreters: understanding what is a "show" versus what is "interactive" and knowledge of history.

Photo Credt: Helen Wirka

To address the first: understanding what is a "show" and what is "interactive." I wonder if spectators would feel more comfortable if museums or historical sites prepared them in advance for first-person interpretation. Perhaps when advertising for an event, the historical site could promote it as "interactive." By listing it as such, it might allow the visitors to prepare themselves and to go in knowing that their participation is expected. That being said, many museum-goers are still accustomed to the "look but don't touch" mantra of the traditional museum. One possible way for spectators to voluntarily opt in to interacting would be if the historical site offered a sticker or similar object that would indicate that the visitor wearing it is willing and ready to participate. Those interested in the old-school museum/historical site experience can also enjoy the event, but in their own way and through observation.

The museum or historical site might also indicate "boundaries;" that is to say, when a spectator could interact with the living historians and when it would be inappropriate to. This might apply more to reenactments where battles or demonstrations are happening or at sites like Colonial Williamsburg where they put on reenactor-only performances.

As for the second disconnect--the lack of knowing what the reenactors know--perhaps museums or sites could distribute the information. When purchasing tickets, it might be helpful for the first-person interpretation site to offer the visitors a "conversation" card (example at left) that lists things most people would know at that time and place, talking-points about "current events," as well as common phrases. This wouldn't have to be complex, and indeed it should be simple, but it would help to bridge the anxiety and pressure that spectators often feel when not knowing how to participate.

To download a .pdf of this example I made using the Braddock Day event (at the Carlyle House in Alexandria, VA) as my inspiration, click here. If you would like the Word template I used for free, please send me a request using the "Contact Me" form on the right; I would love to see this used!

As a Reenactor

Photo Credit: Alexa Price

Now these ideas only apply to the historical sites, so how can an individual reenactor navigate through all this? As I mentioned before, I personally don't care to take on a first-person role. I feel that keeps the spectators at an arms-length away and it prevents me from using all my resources as a teacher. They tend to be shy and unsure of themselves (even if they really know the history) and while I can explain how to start a fire with flint and steel, I found that by connecting it to a modern lighter, spectators tend to relate more effectively. All of that being said, sometimes I do have to adopt a person for a special event. How can I also reach out to spectators and not alienate them?

The biggest take-away from this (as I might say to my students), is that if the person is unwilling to participate, then do not force them to. If the museum or historical site does not offer a way for spectators to opt-in or -out (like the aforementioned stickers), then it's on you to decide whom to interact with and when. Obviously, the best scenario is one in which the spectators start the conversation, but you can't always rely on that. You need to use your best judgement to determine who wants to engage in dialogue with you.

One of my favorite things to do is present an easy question that almost forces the spectator to agree with what will become my argument. "Bonjour madam. I am _____ sent here by the governor of Canada to seek justice. Tell me, do you agree that it was unjust that Washington killed a French ambassador in cold blood?" Of course the event surrounding the "Battle" of Jumoville's Glen was far more complicated, but if I'm a French officer trying to gain support for France, I'm going to manipulate the facts. Call it propaganda. Regardless, I usually get a "yes." That's all I need. I greeted the visitor, didn't stand there awkwardly waiting for an embarrassed reply, but went right into my question. I put the effort of starting a dialogue in my hands, since I was prepared for this whole event and she wasn't. I also purposefully asked a question that was void of many facts and provided my own information (propaganda). She didn't need to know any background information (and I was kind of counting on it). I then immediately follow-up with a brief background on why I'm here, provide a little more specific information and ask a follow-up question that's purely opinion-based and gets the spectator thinking about the current issues.

This manner of interacting with the public is different than what I wrote in a previous post about engaging spectators. When doing first-person interpretation, you can't link modern things, people, or events to what you're doing; that would be anachronistic. Instead, the greatest tool in your kit is your--and their--humanity. Human traits like greed, lust, survival, and pride are present in most historical events. If you can't be a 21st century person in period clothes, then your best option for staying in character while interacting with 21st century spectators is to appeal to their humanity.

So my suggestion, as a living historian, who wants to engage spectators while doing first-person interpretation is to:

1. Decide what human trait you plan to hook the spectators with when you begin your conversation. Are you going to emphasize survival at your frontier fort/town? Are you going to emphasize honor in your military cause? How about pride in the family you've started?
2. Greet them (this notifies them that it's time to interact) and immediately provide some context (don't wait for them to respond to your greeting).
3. Ask an opinion-based question that does not require any background knowledge but works with your earlier-chosen human trait.
4. Following their answer, feed them more information and be slightly more specific.
5. Ask them more opinion-based questions about what you just told them. If you're really good, this is when you can get a feel for what really interests them and where you can turn to next in your conversation.

One way that I've seen go wrong (unbeknownst to the sites) is when two reenactors debate each other and then turn to individuals in the crowd and demand their opinion (usually looking for support). While I admire the idea and know that this works very well in a classroom, as a reenactor who doesn't have a whole year to establish a comfortable learning environment, this is not the best plan. When asked to join in an active argument, most spectators shut down or are hesitant to participate, lest they get something wrong or offend the other character. You'll occasionally see someone--like at the Salem Witch Museum--shouting "burn her!" but that is a rare customer. By creating a performance and demanding participation at the end, the switch from "observation" to "interaction" is too quick for comfort and results in the example I mentioned at the very beginning of this post: embarrassment. If you're trying to get them involved, you're more apt to confuse them and make them anxious. It's much clearer to the public if you leave the performance as an "observe" experience. Perhaps the reenactors can then separate after the performance and interact with the public as previously mentioned.

Before you participate in any event, think to yourself: why am I doing this? If it's for the public (some events are not), then determine what you want the spectators to get out of it and which approach will be the most successful: first- or third-person interpretation. Regardless of what you choose, just remember that you're a teacher, whether you acknowledge it or not.


Upcoming Topics:

• 1710s Kit: Part 2
• "A doublet of fustian... and breeches of canvas"
• Camp Diversions

Engaging Spectators

"Is that fire real?"

Photo credit: Jess Bruce

Back in February, I attended a brief class on historical interpretation at Jamestown. As a new volunteer for the site, I needed to attend a class on how Jamestown suggests that living historians engage and interact with the members of the public. My biggest take-away from that session was making your mundane, every-day task/gear/clothing relevant to the public. When I first understood that this was the point of the session, I reflected on how I teach in my high school classroom. It was much the same way--if I don't make the content relevant to my students, they won't care enough to stay awake.

Now, to be fair, reenactments are not classrooms in the usual sense of the word. Spectators also voluntarily spend money to attend; they're there to see a show and learn something. For that to happen though, we need to engage them, ourselves. Certainly, some members of the public will be outgoing enough to ask a ridiculous question like "is that fire real?" just to get the conversation started, but if you want to avoid that question and future embarrassment, be the one to initiate the conversation.

Engaging spectators is much like television ads. It has to be brief, entertaining, and relevant. Just last May (2015), Time published an article about how humans' attention span has dropped to eight seconds. You don't need to be a high school history teacher to notice this on a daily basis though. So how can you make a total stranger understand in a short amount of time why some complicated historical concept or artifact is important? You need to first make them connect with it.

Ask Simple Questions:

The truth is we ignore what we can't identify with (tell me this isn't true about today's American society). I see it in the classroom and I see it in politics. Here's a great way to make your history "lesson" come alive, in a way that I've personally tested in the classroom and at events:

Ask simple questions. This was something I picked up in my master's program for teaching as well as at Jamestown's training session. When you see a member of the public walking by your camp or your demonstration, create a discussion with them. The old "sage on the stage" model of relating information (think Ben Stein as the economics teacher in Ferris Bueller's Day Off) is no longer considered the most effective way to teach (surprise!). Instead of telling the spectators everything you know about the role of women in an 18th century military camp, try instead to hook them with a question and encourage them to apply themselves to your "lesson."

Photo credit: Helen Wirka

"Have you ever been camping before?" This question requires little effort to ask, but now I've hooked the spectator who was planning to stroll by my lean-to like they did for all those tents nearby. I made the spectator identify with my 250 year old camp. I just made the first step to establishing a personal connection. Most spectators have either been camping or have at least heard about it to understand the premise. It just helps me to bridge their prior knowledge of camping as a hobby to camping as part of an army.

When formulating questions for discussion, you should keep in mind the goal (what you want the spectators to get out of your short interaction) and the relevance (the connection to them). My goal while asking the camping question is to ultimately relate how French militia in the French and Indian War lived in a military camp. My relevance was camping as a pastime versus camping with the army. The "relevance" is a modern connection that is usually a common activity that people experience or have seen. From my training session at Jamestown, I realized that the "relevance" could also be a common emotion or motivation. When you have a moment, think about what aspects of the reenactment you want to talk to people about and what the relevant point could be. Almost every activity at the reenactment could be explained with modern parallels, but some examples of emotions and motivations to consider as your "relevance" include survival, greed, protecting family, hunger, power lust, etc.

Asking basic questions is an easy way to quickly grab the attention of a spectator since, by the nature of being a question, they know you're expecting them to deliver an answer. It's also a great way to mentally prepare the spectator to enter the imagined 18th century camp you so effortlessly entered Saturday morning. Finally, it provides you with a glimpse at what they may already know so you may work off that. There are certainly other ways to hook spectators and students, but I've found this method to be the easiest and quickest.

Great conversation-starter examples:

• "Why do you think a farmer like me would need a gun?" could lead to a discussion on defending your family from frontier raids, hunting for survival, or opposing a tyrannical government.
• "When might I need to wear this apron?" could lead to a discussion on cooking (since aprons are still used today) or other work that might otherwise dirty your clothing.
• "What are some ways you know of or have used to start a fire?" could lead to a discussion on flint and steel, flintlock muskets, or cooking.
• "Why do you think my friends and I are all dressed the same?" could lead to a discussion on uniforms (connected with sports teams or a job hat requires uniforms) and military life.
• "Just looking at my setup, how might doing laundry today be different to how it was done 200 years ago?" could of course lead to a discussion on cleaning clothing before the use of washing machines.

Conversation-deterrer examples:

• "What do you want to know?" usually leads the spectators to answer something like "I'm just looking around." What else should you expect when, chances are, they haven't learned anything yet to be able to ask questions on their own.
• "Why do you think Cornwallis went to Yorktown?" Unless you told them the answer previously, the only ones who could answer this successfully are the Revolutionary War historians, and even then, that's a loaded question. They know that getting the answer wrong may be embarrassing, so they might not risk responding.
• "Yes" or "No" questions: these usually don't go anywhere and they don't allow the spectator to share their experience and thus make the connection.

Keep It Simple:

I fall into this trap every so often both in teaching in the classroom and at reenactments. I get so excited while explaining historical strategies, for example, that I don't realize that I lost the attention of my students or spectators. Start a conversation by asking a simple question. Get the spectators hooked. Then gradually feed them information, remembering that they are trying to find how it could be relevant to them. If you start going off the deep end about cloth-covered buttons, you might lose your audience's attention. Describe concepts--the big ideas--and constantly ask them follow-up questions to keep them thinking and connecting (and remember, keep those questions simple, too).  Those follow-up questions can also be useful at gaging interest and how well you've been relating your information. You know you did it right when they start asking questions, themselves. That shows their comfort with the level of engagement you created as well as with taking the social risk that comes with asking a question.

So how can we as living historians encourage spectators to come back and learn the history we love so much? Make your information relevant, involve them through questions and discussion, create a comfortable learning environment, and keep what you have to say short and simple until they ask for more. Most importantly, and it should go without saying, be patient; that might even mean starting your conversation with "why yes, that is a real fire."

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Have you tried any of this before? Did something not quite make sense? Please let me know what you think by writing a comment below.

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