The Baron’s Cloak: A Study in Dynamic Continuity?

In my previous post, I made the case for a more dynamic understanding of historical continuity. Having tried to illustrate what this might look like in practice, I now want to turn to one story in particular. That story is told in Willard Sunderland’s The Baron’s Cloak.

This brilliant book details the extraordinary and troubling life of Baron Roman Feodorovich von Ungern-Sternberg, an eccentric mystic, reactionary nationalist, and ruthlessly violent Russian nobleman of Germanic origins. It follows Ungern’s life, from his birth in Graz to his family’s settling in Estland (modern-day Estonia) via Georgia, through his stuttering induction into the Russian army before the Great War to his career as a military commander in the anti-Bolshevik White movement during the Russian Civil War.

The book can be read in a several different ways: as a riveting story in its own right, as a tale of competing nationalism and radicalisms, as an exploration of huge upheaval and change. In Sunderland’s own words, it is “a study of the Russian Empire told through Ungern’s life” (p. 5), especially in its final years, as it collapsed and was then (partially) reconstituted by a new Soviet state.

However, reading this book, I found it to provide a highly stimulating narrative of dynamic historical continuity.

Here, using several short excerpts, I’ll retell key parts of the narrative in order to draw out some of the examples of continuity it seems to reveal. As I go, I’ll return to the diagrams of historical “paths” which I provided in my previous post, illustrating how I think the excerpts illustrate these.

What happens when “nothing happens”? Rethinking continuity as a dynamic process

 

Claire Holliss was kind enough to offer her thoughts and critique on an earlier draft of this and the subsequent post, which were significantly improved by her generous and insightful comments.

A decade ago, I was given the recommendation to read Willard Sunderland’s newly published book, The Baron’s Cloak. I should have set aside the time to read it then. Better late than never, though. A decade later, I’ve finally gotten round to doing so.

Subtitled A History of the Russian Empire in War and Revolution, the book is a masterclass in microhistory, telling through the life and experiences of one man the story of the Russian empire as it lurched into the Russo-Japanese War, 1905 Revolution, First World War, Revolution of 1917, and Civil War. That man is Baron Roman Feodorovich von Ungern-Sternberg.

Baron Ungern-Sternberg, shortly before his execution in September 1921. Credit: Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Responding to SHP 2025: Part 2, Claire Holliss on Stories at A-Level

The 2025 Schools History Project (SHP) conference was, as ever, a highlight of the teaching year and a stimulus for all sorts of thoughts.

Inevitably, the best workshops at such an event are those that leave you with more (interesting) questions than answers.

In these two posts (including my last one, on Arthur Chapman’s presentation on stories and narratives), I’m going to try to formulate some coherent thoughts in relation to two really excellent sessions in particular, both of which sent me away with a number of very interesting questions. The second post, here, discusses Claire Holliss’ workshop on stories at KS5.

 

Sometimes, new directions in pedagogy develop their own momentum and give rise to new orthodoxies and (near-)universally accepted wisdom. When this happens, it’s important to take a step back and evaluate the evidence to establish how sound that wisdom actually is.

This is what I understood Claire Holliss’ fantastic SHP 2025 workshop to be honing in on.

In her very clear-minded, critical, but open discussion of using stories at KS5, Claire gave a well-deserved nod towards some very interesting and valuable work done on integrating stories into classroom teaching. She then asked how far doing so would actually benefit teaching History at KS5.

Claire’s work links to an ongoing research project, involving the selection and use of specific stories in her own teaching. This was also of interest to me, as our department has also been starting to develop stories in our own KS5 teaching of Russian and Soviet History (I’ll explore this a bit below).

Responding to SHP 2025: Part 1, Arthur Chapman on Narratives

The 2025 Schools History Project (SHP) conference was, as ever, a highlight of the teaching year and a stimulus for all sorts of thoughts.

Inevitably, the best workshops at such an event are those that leave you with more (interesting) questions than answers.

In the following two posts, I’m going to try to formulate some coherent thoughts in relation to two really excellent sessions in particular, both of which sent me away with a number of very interesting questions. The first post, here, discusses Arthur Chapman’s workshop on stories and narratives.

What is a story? This deceptively tricky question lay at the heart of Arthur Chapman’s workshop.

Here, I want to pick up on one issue in particular which was discussed during that workshop. It’s an issue which has prompted a number of very interesting questions and got me thinking again about stories, narratives, and arguments.

That issue is: narratives as historical interpretation.

Language and Substantive Concepts: Part 3 – Turning Students into Sceptics

This is the third of a three-part post focusing on what I term, following Caroline Coffin, the “language of history” and substantive concepts.

After the first post set out a broad theoretical framework, and the second post proposed approaches to foreign-language terms as substantive concepts, this post argues that we should aim not just to teach students to use substantive concepts but also to question and critique them.

I’ll be presenting on this topic with colleagues at the upcoming Schools History Project (SHP) conference in Leeds in July 2025, so this is also a first attempt to set out and develop a broad methodological approach to this work.

Questions, comments, and criticisms are very much welcome!

 

George Orwell once argued, “The worst thing one can do with words is to surrender to them.” If language is there "for expressing and not for concealing or preventing thought, let the meaning choose the word, not the other way about." (Orwell, quoted by Brubaker and Cooper, 2000)

Accepting uncritically the words others give us is to surrender to them. It means us and our world being defined by others in their terms. Mastering and manipulating words to our own ends means we can define ourselves and our world in our own terms.

In that case, words in the classroom hold enormous power. They give us, the teachers choosing the words and how to use them, power. They can also give our students, if they can master those words for themselves, power.

In relation to substantive concepts – those weighty conceptual terms we use to group together different phenomena the past – we have a responsibility to not just teach our students concepts, but also to invite them to question and critique those concepts.