Making Friends and Enemies: Marginalisation throughout History

An interview with Naomi Pullin and Kathryn Woods

“Exclusion isn’t limited to marginal or persecuted groups; it’s something that most people experience, in one form or another, over the course of their lives.”

Dr Naomi Pullin is Assistant Professor in Early Modern British History at the University of Warwick. She specialises in the 17th- and 18th-century history of the British Atlantic and its North American colonies, with a particular focus on gender, religion and politics.

Dr Kathryn Woods is Dean of Students and a Visiting Research Fellow for History at Goldsmiths, University of London. Prior to this, she was a Teaching Fellow in the History of Medicine at the University of Warwick. Her research interests encompass popular medicine, the human body, embodied identity and appearance in Britain from 1650 to 1800.

Naomi and Kathryn are co-editors of Negotiating Exclusion in Early Modern England, 1550–1800, which was published by Routledge in 2021.

You’re both evidently passionate about history. Do you remember what sparked your interest in the subject? How did you decide which areas to specialise in?

KATHRYN: The thing that really got me into history was reading. As a young person, I munched through books — Horrible Histories was a particular favourite. It was a combination of expanding my horizons through reading as a child and then, at school, learning how different factors fit together and how historians’ interpretations vary.

I studied at the University of Edinburgh, where there’s a huge medical school and the best medical museums. Visiting different sites to look at all the anatomical specimens piqued my curiosity. My course also covered global medicine, which opened a completely new window to the world.

So, like a lot of historians, my interests are informed by context and happenstance. My dissertation was about an 18th-century doctor who wrote a conduct book for his daughter, which was fascinating. I just came across it randomly in the library one day; it’s as if these things find you.

NAOMI: My interest in history was sparked by reading lots of historical novels when I was at school. I went on to study it at university and I think my passion for early modern history came from having inspiring teachers. That’s where I ended up feeling most at home.

When I was writing my undergraduate dissertation on women’s involvement in the sectarian movements of the English Civil War (1642–1651), I came across a group of radicals called the Quakers. I was fascinated by their defiance of conventional gender expectations; they allowed women to preach, minister and travel — leaving their husbands at home to look after the children while they went on missionary tours. That’s how my interest in exclusion and persecution came about.

Over the years, my research interests have evolved; I now think about exclusion more broadly, including the conditions that create social isolation and how relationships break down. While I was doing my PhD, I discovered that one of my ancestors was among the first Quakers to travel to North America and was heavily involved in the colonial government of Pennsylvania. It was really nice to find that personal connection.

You worked at the University of Warwick around the same time. Is this how you met, or was co-editing the book your first interaction?

NAOMI: Warwick was where we connected. I did my PhD there before I became a teaching fellow in the History department. I think Kathryn joined in 2015. We had lots of conversations over coffee and realised that we shared an interest in early modern and 18th-century history, as well as sociability and how people interact with one another.

We were frustrated by the current scholarship on sociability and friendship because there was limited discussion about exclusion, making enemies and the role of social relationships in communities. We felt that there was more we could do, which was the starting point for this book.

KATHRYN: It felt strange to be discussing exclusion when I was just beginning to make friends! I think it’s a relevant topic for undergraduates as well; going to university is all about constructing a community, experiencing exclusion and seeing how boundaries can change.

Our book originated from a conference we organised in 2017: ‘Cultures of Exclusion in the Early Modern World’. We were delighted by the range of papers submitted — some from really senior academics across the world. The idea of exclusion seemed to capture something in people’s imaginations. As soon as we saw the standard and volume of submissions for that conference, we knew there would be value in compiling an edited collection.

Kathryn, you mentioned that exclusion is a relevant topic for undergraduates. Is Negotiating Exclusion in Early Modern England intended as an introductory text, or is it aimed at more advanced students and researchers?

KATHRYN: In some ways, I think it does both. Before this book, exclusion had not been identified as a common aspect of social relations in the early modern period. We wanted to provide a general introduction to the topic, aimed at undergraduates, while laying the theoretical and historical groundwork for further analysis.

The volume covers a diverse range of topics over an extensive period of time, during which there was a great deal of change. Each chapter advances a specific area of scholarship, in new and emerging aspects of early modern history. We showcase research into deviant groups and religious minorities, offering different ways to think about gender and gendered inclusion/exclusion.

NAOMI: We wanted to offer the best of both worlds. As Kathryn said, our introduction is intended as a useful resource for teachers and students. The goal is to encourage readers to think about different theories and reasons for which certain groups are excluded — not just in the context of early modern history, but also by drawing on anthropology and sociology. What it boils down to is the fact that, in order to cement the inside, you have to create outsiders.

There are a few chapters in the volume that would appeal more to professional historians because the writers engage concretely with, and expand on, an established body of scholarship. For example, Charmian Mansell contemplates mothers of illegitimate children, while Carys Brown studies female sociability and religious coexistence. The volume contains a lot of original work; it doesn’t just provide an overview of exclusion, it attempts something new as well.

So, it’s an inclusive volume that caters to different levels of knowledge and understanding. Aside from the examples you’ve already given, what types of exclusion existed in England between 1550 and 1800?

NAOMI: That’s a big and fairly difficult question. What we’re trying to convey is that exclusionism is commonplace and can happen for many different reasons — such as ethnicity, gender, sexual preference, religion or social status. There was already a lot of scholarly interest in social minorities, but our edited collection explores how exclusion was embedded into everyday life. Exclusion isn’t limited to marginal or persecuted groups; it’s something that most people experience, in one form or another, over the course of their lives.

We sought to understand the structure of early modern society and how relationships, politics, religion and legal culture might determine individual feelings of inclusion or exclusion. In my chapter, the case study of a failed friendship exposes the fragility of inclusion for women who were part of an elite social group; it highlights how easily they could be excluded because of a bad decision. Essentially, we’re interested in studying exclusion as a natural consequence of social relationships.

KATHRYN: Historians love a period of change, and the 18th century is one of our favourites. This book sits on the cusp between the early modern and the modern. It’s a time of demographic change: people are more mobile — both within Britain and across the world — and communities start shifting. It’s the beginning of commercialism, so people have got money to buy things. We also see urbanisation and the rise of state bureaucracy.

These changes forced society to reconsider the rules and apparatus of entry and exit, of belonging and rejection. What’s noteworthy about our volume is that it explores the roots of modern understandings of inclusion and exclusion. The 18th century is a period of change, but we’re also looking for patterns of continuity with the contemporary era.

How do historical conceptions and practices of inclusion/exclusion compare with contemporary British and European societies? Are there many differences, or do you think the same rules apply?

KATHRYN: That’s a really interesting question, and one that historians often grapple with. As we discuss in the introduction to Negotiating Exclusion in Early Modern England, the questions that historians ask tend to be informed by the context in which they live. Although we try to treat historical material in a way that is sensitive to the actors of the time, there’s also an irresistible desire to view the past through the lens of contemporary conceptions.

That said, there is a remarkable level of continuity in the factors that inform inclusion and exclusion. You see it at both the micro and macro levels of community. For instance, Naomi’s chapter discusses the relationship between two women who are friends one minute and arguing the next, while Bernard Capp explores how inclusion and exclusion are navigated within a stepfamily. I think that similar dynamics are experienced in contemporary family and community spaces.

Economics is another theme that is closely related to these social interactions; we noticed a general trend towards exclusion during periods of financial difficulty. Religion was hugely significant in the early modern period, and it remains so today. You also start to see other factors like class, race and gender come into play. Some of the research in this volume reveals that inclusion/exclusion for both men and women was not as clear-cut as traditional histories suggest.

NAOMI: I totally agree with Kathryn. The book begins with a quote from Samuel Johnson, who wrote the Dictionary of the English Language. He defined exclusion as ‘the act of shutting out or denying admission’, whereas include meant ‘to enclose, encircle, to shut’. What is distinctive about this period is the perception of inclusion as enclosed and selective. Ironically, that’s actually rather exclusive.

I think this is partly a result of the intensely communal nature of early modern life — especially within parish communities. Religious legions engaged in extreme tribalism, so it would have been difficult for Protestants and Catholics to coexist. That’s not to say that it didn’t happen, but there is something exceptional about the threat of persecution for your religious beliefs.

In our introduction, we also cite the work of historian Alexandra Walsham. In Charitable Hatred, she explains that persecuting someone for their religious beliefs was regarded as an act of charity; anyone who committed the sin of holding false beliefs was endangering their own salvation, so persecution helped to guide them back to the right path towards God. At the time, tolerance was seen as a dirty word. These aspects of early modern social life differ from current interpretations.

Kathryn, your research encompasses social and medical history. How do notions of health/illness, physicality and (dis)ability factor into the history of exclusion in Britain?

KATHRYN: In the early modern period, a regular illness became quite the social event; if you were sick, the local community would support your recovery and offer advice. Things that we would keep private today, such as childbirth, were a public concern in that era.

The 17th and 18th centuries are particularly interesting because the population was more mobile, resulting in the emergence of new illnesses. The plague and other fatal diseases became increasingly common among the younger generations. Once people started to associate movement and migration with disease, it became a social problem.

The state and the third sector tried to address some of the challenges associated with poverty and disease — especially among people outside the communities that were traditionally responsible for their care. For example, my chapter looks at the establishment of institutions like volunteer hospitals, as well as the Foundling Hospital in London for orphans and unwanted children. The institutionalisation of these issues raises fascinating questions about who is deserving and who isn’t.

Likewise, COVID-19 emphasised socioeconomic patterns of inclusion and exclusion. Rather than bringing us closer together, the pandemic caused a greater divide — with ordinary people losing out.

KATHRYN: Particular social groups found COVID more challenging because of the existing forms of exclusion they were subject to. We noticed a similar pattern in the early modern period; there was a clear correlation between falling outside the mainstream and being regarded as a source of disease. An obvious example is sexually transmitted infections.

In the book, we discuss how exclusion can become a coping mechanism during intense periods of widespread sickness. This is what happened during the COVID-19 pandemic, in the form of government-mandated isolation.

Naomi, your chapter explores ‘Failed Friendship and the Negotiation of Exclusion in Eighteenth-Century Polite Society’. What do you mean by ‘polite society’?

NAOMI: These concepts are fairly difficult to define, which says a lot about how exclusion and inclusion functioned at this point in history. ‘Polite society’ can broadly be defined as an informal set of codes that govern manners, behaviour and appearance. It’s like social etiquette — how you converse with others and carry yourself in social situations — but it’s associated with a select group of people at the top of the hierarchy. Polite society is seen as the preserve of the nobility, the elite and eminent intellectuals.

During this period of significant change, social boundaries were not clear-cut because people became wealthier, especially in the cities. It was increasingly easy for people to infiltrate a sphere that had traditionally only been available the top strata of society. If someone dressed and behaved in a particular way, did that make them polite? Would they have automatically been included in the groups they aspired to?

These are some of the questions I grapple with in my case study about a woman who had all the makings of polite society: wealth, friendships and conduct. However, she had a different background; she didn’t grow up in the city or receive the same quality of education as her female acquaintances. So, when she does misstep by marrying without her friends’ approval, her entire social network breaks down. She’s shunned as a result of her behaviour.

How important was friendship in comparison to familial and romantic relationships?

NAOMI: As a central aspect of early modern life, friendship was — in many ways — indistinguishable from familial and romantic relationships. At the time, the word ‘friend’ could be used to describe a family member and a variety of individuals who we wouldn’t necessarily regard as friends nowadays. Historian Naomi Tadmor’s research reveals that people might refer to their spouse, extended family, distant relatives, employer and business associates as friends.

Compared with today, people in early modern society didn’t have as much freedom to choose their friends. These relationships relied on reputation and trust; friends were expected to do an awful lot for one another, so they had to be selected very carefully. That’s why failed friendships are so serious, especially because women had much less choice about who they could socialise with. If they were married, a lot of their relationships centred around their husband.