Your research focuses on women intellectuals during the 1821 Greek Revolution. Who were the women you are studying, and what characterised their struggle for access to knowledge?
In my research, I examine the “Age of Revolutions”, focusing on a diverse group of women intellectuals who understood themselves as Greek patriots. I describe them as “intellectual activists” because their writings and political lives testify to how a marginalised group can access political participation through knowledge.
My research follows the tradition of scholars from the late 1980s and early 1990s who aimed to rectify the gender-related omissions and distortions in historical narratives. In these scholars’ writings, one can find the hope that female historical actors would be reinstated through demanding work and that we could write a history that would include the “other half”. In 2024, we cannot afford to be as optimistic when thousands of pages have been written toward this goal with minimal results. Although there have been decisive steps towards histories that better portray the past, a lot remains to be desired. It is thus exceedingly difficult to author a thesis on women and not get carried away by this injustice. Within this framework, I have also tried to fill in gaps and write the history of the unacknowledged ones. I have tried to see how, apart from setting the wrongs right, writing women’s history can help us better understand the intellectual worlds of the “Age of Revolutions”. A time of revolution is always inviting to those who live at the margins of society, because the upsetting intellectual and material norms a revolution brings affords them a voice and a vision for a fair future. But those who live in the shadow of power relations have also more to lose when they revolt.
The historian who authors their story can ask questions about agency and structure. How do people understand what they can do and at what cost? How do they utilise traditions in social practices in order to gain political power? How do local hybridities influence vocabularies and practices? How do power relations of knowledge work? What do all these observations tell us about ideas and experiences of nationalism and revolution?
The setting of my research, the Southeastern Mediterranean at the beginning of the nineteenth century, provides fascinating answers to these questions. Empires crumbled, geographies changed, and people constantly reassessed their political and patriotic affiliations. In this turmoil, women tried to reposition themselves in the political landscape. Yet, at the same time, there was a “defeminisation of politics”: the traditional routes of political participation for women of the elites, like the salons, were dwindling. I focus on women of the aristocracy and the bourgeoisie who authored plays and memoirs but also translated French/Italian works and ran philhellenic secret societies in order to understand how they adapted to these unfavourable changes.
While internationally recognised as a fundamental right, the right to education is still far from being achieved, and gender disparities in this field are still extremely relevant worldwide. What can we learn today from the Greek women’s struggles you are researching?
Discussions about the right to education can be quite intricate, partly because the concept of "education" itself is subject to debate. Its definition varies across different times, places, and social contexts, ranging from basic literacy to the broader idea of every societal influence that shapes our identities. Interestingly, even in formal declarations and legal documents, more specific and narrow interpretations of education, such as "literacy," are often avoided. This suggests that the right to education is not merely an instrumental right—ensuring individuals the means to earn a livelihood or exercise other rights—but rather carries deeper, more profound implications.
Legal and political theories of rights emphasize that denying educational opportunities to certain members of society is not just a policy shortfall; it is a serious moral issue that warrants indignation. Philosopher Hayden White, for instance, has argued that the right to education extends from the right to life, but more specifically the right to a meaningful human life. This concept goes beyond mere biological existence and encompasses the acquisition of knowledge, which can only be imparted by other human beings. It also includes access to the language and cultural tools necessary to communicate effectively within society, ensuring that one can be heard and understood. If we push White’s idea even further, the right to education can be seen as a fundamental aspect of the right to political participation in its broadest sense—the right to speak and be heard.
The stories of the women in my research, along with others historically excluded from the right to education due to their race, gender, class, physical ability, or other marginalised identities, reveal that the right to education functions as a Trojan horse. While it may seem unassuming and is often regarded as relevant only to children, this right actually conceals a powerful political imperative for equity and inclusivity. It offers a means to challenge and negotiate with oppressive structures, demanding that society recognise and address the deep-seated inequalities that persist. In this way, the right to education is far more than a mere entitlement; it is a crucial instrument for fostering a more just and inclusive world.
Photo credit: Woman Reading in the Studio, c. 1868. (National Gallery of Art. Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Mellon)