The introduction of slaves as a permanent labour force into Roman agriculture is not comprehensive without a clarification of the economic and social structure of early Roman society. How far back can the economic differentiation be traced? Who worked the land of the elite before the massive import of slaves, and how was the early labour force organised in relation to the Roman elite?
The archaeological sources testify to the existence of a surplus in the Pre-Republican period, and the domination of the well-known patrician clan names in the naming of 10 of the tribes in 495 BC indicates a considerable concentration of landed property among the strongest gentes at the beginning of the fifth century BC at the latest.
A permanent and steady labour force for the early Roman elite should not be sought for among hired labour or yeomen bound by nexum, but rather among tenant farmers. The almost complete silence of our sources as to the existence of tenant farmers in early Rome can be explained by assuming that the relation between the landlord and the tenant has been within the framework of the patronus-cliens relationship, as indicated by a late notice in Festus. The clientela is personal, and it is not subject to the laws of the society, and officially the economic aspects of the relationship are not mentioned.
The extensive wars of the fourth and third centuries imposed a great strain on Roman manpower, and they initiated the displacement of the tenant farmers, who formed the backbone of the army, by slaves on the landed property of the Roman elite. This development accelerated when the aristocracy invested a considerable part of their wealth acquired in the eastern wars in land-holdings in Italy. It can not be excluded, however, that the tenant system persisted down to the introduction of the coloni of the late Republic and early Empire.
The changed recruiting to the armies, and the termination of the Roman expansion set the Roman soldiers free for employment in the agricultural sector again, as a permanent and steady labour force. Owing to the changed structure of Roman society during the expansion of the empire, the personal relation between landlord and tenant was replaced by a strictly economic contract. Thus there seems to be continuity from the tenancy of the early Republic, based on clientela, to the more or less free coloni bound by economic contract in the early Empire, and further to the serf -like coloni of the late Empire.
Jørgen Christian Meyer
In the spring of 1928 construction workers and typesetters in several larger Norwegian towns went on strike to protest that their wages had been fixed by compulsory arbitration. The illegal strike was protracted, and an attempt by the authorities to force the workers to return to their jobs provokes the unions. The situation reached a stalemate, and the employers took their case to the Labour Court (Arbeidsretten). During the proceedings the president of the Labour Court, Paal Berg, suggested a historic compromise, for which he has always been given the credit.
He suggested that the controversial verdict of the Labour Court should be put into practice over a period of two years, allowing for new negotiations in 1929 if the living costs index changed. Both employers and employees accepted this compromise, and Paal Berg was hailed as a pragmatic negotiator. New material has shown, however, that the initiative did not come from Paal Berg, although it certainly was a solution that both he and his political party (Venstre) could accept. The compromise was in fact worked out in an informal meeting between the union (L0) and the employers' organisation (NAF). Paal Berg was asked to present the compromise so that neither organisation would be discredited.
Taking his point of departure in this incident, Per Ole Johansen discusses a number of informal agreements between NAF and LO during the 1920s and up to the General Collective Agreement of 1935. Johansen suggests that these examples form the contours of a diplomatic tradition. Johansen asserts, however, that this does not mean that these informal meetings constituted the fora where discussions were really made. Both formal and informal meetings were part of a larger process, as were negotiations and confrontations. However, in time marked by political controversy, informal contacts no doubt played a significant role in the development leading up to the important series of agreements on which the General Collective Agreement of 1935 were based.
Per Ole JohansenThe comprehensive research that has been done on relations between employers and workers in the inter-war years has concentrated on the interaction between the central organisations, the Norwegian Employers' Confederation (NAF) and the Norwegian Federation of Trade Unions (L0). These studies have confirmed that there was a turning point in industrial relations either in 1927-28 or 1931-32: industrial harmony had arrived. The writer of the present article emphasises the importance of analysing industrial relations at the level of the factory or individual industry. He begins with a concrete analysis of a factory and an industry: the Stordø Pyrites Mine and the Norwegian mining industry in the inter-war years. The analysis confirms that there was indeed a turning point during the 1920s; at Stordø it came early in the decade.
What characterised the turning point was, however, not a softening of the conflicts between employers and workers, but rather the domination of the interests of the latter by the former.
This did not happen without a conflict. By weeding out or blacklisting workers opposed to them, the factory leadership signalled the degree of trade union activity they were willing to tolerate. The rules laid down by the factory were then passed on to new employees by the established trade union leadership. These rules thus had a crucial function both for the trade union and for the factory's productivity. In regard to the latter, they guided the skilled labour towards particular work patterns and norms and created the basis for a high level of production.
Both the internal process of education. and the wages structure trapped the workers within a cycle that encouraged a practical and short-term interest in wages at the expense of the workers' collective but more diffuse interests.
An analysis of the Stordø Pyrites Mine shows that the 1920s did indeed see a turning point, but one somewhat different to that with which historians of industrial relations have traditionally been concerned. It remains to be seen whether a number of similar studies will require that relations between the Norwegian Employers' Confederation (NAF) and the Norwegian Federation of Trade Unions (L0) need to be analysed more precisely or completely reassessed.
Øyvind Bjørnson
Several theories have been put forward to explain the high and fluctuating mortality before 1815 as well as the reasons for the fall in the crude death rate occurring that year. Most Norwegian historians seem to link this decline with improvement in food-supply due to agricultural progress and/or increased grain-import during (or immediately after) the preceding years of war. In fact, there exists a strong tendency to make mortality a simple function of this single factor. The argument is overall very much in line with traditional Malthusian population theory.
One major implication of this view is a social differentiation of mortality due to the unequal distribution of food. Consequently, one should expect the lower strata of society to show a considerably higher mortality than the upper strata during the pre-1815 period. The main objective of this article is to try to test this hypothesis.
The data-material consists of the deaths recorded in 1802 and 1803 (two years with an average crude death rate of 24.1) from a random sample of 44 Norwegian rural parishes. The total population of these parishes was 117,730 according to the 1801-census (or c. 15 per cent of the total rural population). The total number of deaths was 5681. The social identification of each dead person was done by linkage to the census of 1801. C. 86 per cent were thus identified and attributed to one of the chosen social groupings thought to reflect differences in level of food-supply (the unidentified were distributed proportionately). The main line of social division is drawn between the farmers (plus some other minor groups) as the upper strata, and the cottagers (plus some other groups) as the lower strata (a more detailed division is also applied in some instances).
The main result is, surprisingly not, that the mortality of the lower strata was higher than that of the upper strata, but instead somewhat lower. Taking into account a reasonable amount of error, the results of this investigation show convincingly that the mortality of the lower strata could not have been substantially higher than that of the upper strata for 1802 and 1803. A subdivision of the data-material do not show any indication of the lower strata having substantially higher mortality when the level of mortality or social stratification on the parish level is taken into consideration. Thus there is no evidence of a general pre-1815 pattern of marked social differentials in mortality. Hence, the supposed dominating role of the food-factor in explaining high mortality is not verified.
Finally, an alternative hypothesis is suggested. The evidence indicates that the well-to-do farmers had the highest mortality. This could have been due to a higher exposure to infectious diseases because these households were large and located in the central areas of the parishes. The cottagers by contrast, who often lived on the periphery of the parishes in very small households, were less exposed to infectious diseases. The exposure to infectious diseases, and hence mortality, could have had a fundamental gradient reflecting the level of population density. The poor could well have had higher risks of dying due to their lower standards of living, but this could have been counteracted by living in low-density areas of the parishes.
Rolf EngelsenChanges in local administration during the century after the Reformation led to a characteristic and increasing disparity between the functions of the fogd (bailiff) on the one hand and his position within the administrative hierarchy on the other.
The government thus faced the problem of governing through the office of the fogd. This problem was aggravated as the fogd in the same period achieved an increasing degree of independence from his local superior, the lensherre. The latter was the representative of the King and the main link between the central and local authorities. Consequently, the independence of the fogd must also have hampered the trend towards increasing central control that was taking place in the period.
In the 1630's administrative problems led to a series of royal writs, attempting to control the fogds. These initiatives were, however, of little consequence, and did not imply any fundamental change in the relations between the fogd and his superiors. The tension between administrative functions and the traditional hierarchy remained unchanged.
Only after the establishment of absolutism in 1660 was the administrative structure decisively reformed. The collection of the public revenues and taxes was separated from the duties of the amtmann (the successor of the lensherre), and the fogd was directly subordinated to the central authorities. In this connection it must be pointed out that the Norwegian fogds had held a peculiar position in the management of the len districts before 1660. The article also calls attention to the political conflict between the King and the Council of the realm over fiscal policies and financial administration during the last decades of the old regime. For these reasons it may be relevant to consider the policy of the central government regarding the fogds in the light of the constitutional systems before 1660.
Nils Johan Stoa
Hans Hendriksen's theory (from 1972) about the existence of a connection between the rather intense labour conflicts in the rural parts of Eastern Norway in the 1920's and 30's and the relatively strong support for the fascist party Nasjonal Samling in the same areas has won general acceptance in the last decade. Hendriksen claims that many individuals from the working class became fervent supporters of Nasional Samling, when they were faced with the consequences of the financial crisis of the 1920's, the advance of the labour movement, and the consecutive strikes and blockades within forestry.
Opposing Hendriksen's thesis the author maintains that only a small percentage of the forest workers joined the fascists. The vast majority of the working class developed Socialist sympathies. Equally, the forest workers' trade union, founded in 1927, grew incredibly fast.
Contrary to Hendriksen the author also claims that the forest workers constituted a homogeneous group, socially, culturally and politically. After examining the work processes the author concludes that only minor groups employed in forest work can have differed in social or economical status. These groups ought to get special attention when future studies on NS-recruitment in this region are being made.
Hendriksen argues that the link between the labour conflicts and support for NS was made up by the yellow. unions, the Liberty of Work. (Arbeidets Frihet)-organisations. This supposition is not documented in Hendriksen's work. Pointing to the quite different patterns in the strength of the yellow trade unions in Elverum and Trysil and the many similar features in the support for NS in these neighbouring communities, the author finds the correlation between the strength of these unions and the strength of the party quite insignificant. This weakens Hendriksen's theory of these unions being a channel or a link between the conflicts and the fascist party.
In conclusion, the author presents a case-study, based on material from Elverum. A list of the strike-breakers from the important Julussa-conflict (in Elverum, 1927) is compared with lists of the members of Nasjonal Samling in 1935 and during the war. The comparison shows that only 7% of the 87 strike-breakers had become members of the fascist party in 1935, while nearly 20% became members during the war. Although these numbers clearly demonstrates that the strike-breakers, when compared with the average workers, are over- represented in Nasjonal Samling, the fact remains that more than 80% of the strike-breakers did not join Nasjonal Samling.
Gudmund Moren
The article discusses main themes in Jens Arup Seip's general conception of history and science, with particular emphasis upon his theoretical output. His theories of history and society are arranged in four main categories: general theory of society, conception of the relationship between determinism and voluntarism, different notions of historical time, and the relationship between norm-regulated and accidental behaviour. In the first three of these themes there is a recognisable development and change in his thoughts. The early version of his theory of society was influenced by the Marxist historical school in Norway in the inter-war period. This school laid heavy emphasis on means of production and class structure. In the 1960s his opinion gradually changed to a position that stressed the relative autonomy of political institutions. Much the same process was taking place in his thinking about determinism vs. voluntarism. The general tendency has been that voluntarism has occupied a more dominant position in his conception of historical processes. With regard to the third question Seip has moved from a position that paid most attention to history of the long term and cyclical change, to a conception of historical time which concentrates on short-term phenomena. His views on the fourth question have been marked by stability. As a result of his interest in institutions, he has been much occupied with norm-regulated behaviour.
Seip's opinions of history and society are characterised by evolution and change. In his theories of science, on the other hand, continuity prevails. The key question in Seip's conception of science is the relationship between empirical research and construction of theories and models. Seip's position is that the historian's approach to historical problems should be characterised by openness and flexibility. He insists upon an explorative attitude by the scientist. Consequently he has been vehemently attacking the sociologists for constructing theories and models before they start the empirical research. Highly formalised models have, according to Seip, a built-in dynamic of their own. They tyrannise the mind of the scientist, and they prevent a real confrontation between the hypothesis and the empirical material. Seip also argues that the historians should abstain from constructing general models. Instead, they should concentrate on exploring regularities within limited time-space contexts.
Seip's general opinion of historical method and his theory of scientific inquiry have been widely accepted by Norwegian historians. In addition to the general element in his theoretical writings, there is also a specific one dealing with the history of institutions. A large part of his theoretical writings is concerned with developing this specific field.
Seip has held a prominent position in the community of Norwegian historians in the post-war period. His writings combine meticulous empirical work with profound theoretical insight. In the debates with the expanding social sciences in this period Seip has been the leading spokesman for the historical profession. Through his brilliant prose and as a result of his many interventions in public debates with historical arguments, he has managed to transcend the confines of academic debate and has thereby made the historical science known to a wider audience.
Seip's total historical output consists of three distinct parts - empirical analysis, methodological and theoretical studies, and popular, polemical works. He has a good command of all these genres, but his greatness is most evident in his empirical studies.
Odd Bjørn Fure
The typical sets of data analysed by historians are not drawn as random samples from finite populations. For that reason, it is often held that historians, in these cases, should avoid using statistical tests. In this article it is argued that a random sample should never be a necessary prerequisite for the use of statistical methods.
Quantitative historical analyses often abound with phrases like: The observed difference is so small that it must be disregarded. or the number of observations is so limited that no firm conclusions can be drawn.. These expressions often serve to sort out what is worth further study; if one is sufficiently accurate in measuring, changes and differences can always be found. Moreover, such expressions imply the existence of an implicit model that helps the researcher to distinguish systematic trends from disturbances. How this distinction is made is, however, left to the discretion of the researcher.
A formulation of this implicit model as a probability (or stochastic) model will give the reader a better opportunity to evaluate the tenability of assumptions and conclusions.
A probability model implies the conception of a stable mechanism, which produces events, each event with a particular probability. A set of data is thus considered to be results produced by such a mechanism in real or hypothetical experiments. In history (and most social sciences) the experiments are hypothetical, since they cannot be repeated. The model will be a simplification of reality. The degree of simplification and the assumptions made will vary according to the problem studied. The model will never be completely specified; there will be parameters to be estimated and hypotheses to be tested. The study of relations and structures is thus transferred to the study of parameters within the model.
In the article the use of probability models is illustrated by two examples. The first investigates whether women and men had different probabilities of being accused and executed for sorcery. The other example examines whether
an observed reduction in number of children born can be interpreted as a systematic change in fertility.
By means of probability models conclusions to these questions are drawn, conclusions that do not necessarily deviate from discretionary conclusions. The assumptions leading to the conclusions are, however, explicitly presented, and
the certainty with which the conclusions are drawn, more clearly stated.
Eli FureThe application of psychological concepts to historical problems has been termed psychohistory. Two approaches have been used. Some psychologists have written historical biographies, using history to illuminate the psychological pattern they have tried to establish. A few historians have used psychological concepts and insights as a tool in their historical interpretations.
Generally historians have been sceptical about using psychological concepts and methods based on modern mentality and direct observation, and applying these to mentalities of the past, which were different from today's and are unavailable for direct observation. The construction of historical psychograms has been denounced as out of place, or downright unscientific. However, critics run the risk of discarding a systematic and reasoned attempt to identify psychological conditions in the past, in favour of an unsystematic, unreasoned, private intuition, presented as common sense..
The author of the present article is aware of his own lack of psychological training. But having sought advice from a professional psychologist, he ventures on an attempt at subjecting King Sverre (1177-1202) to a personality analysis, utilising theories of modern psychology. Or rather, he intends to test the validity of a personality portrait of King Sverre drawn by Kåre Lunden in volume 3 of the Cappelen's Norges historie, as well as the portrait drawn in the Sverre's Saga, in regard to psychological consistency.
In drawing a personality portrait, the historian will have to depend upon extant sources, subjecting them to necessary source criticism. In this process psychology may be of some help, preventing the historian from making psychologically incompatible combinations of career patterns and presupposed mental conditions. In applying modern concepts to the medieval mentality, it is assumed that the internal relationships between psychological elements have
remained fairly stable over the centuries, only minimally altered by shifting cultural colourings. As for the objectivity of the observations made by the author of the Sverre's Saga, a piece of propaganda literature, he obviously was
biased; but the author was subject to contemporary control and criticism. His task was to interpret the contemporary scene, but his potential audience prevented him from creating a fictitious world. This must apply also to the basic
personality features of his hero.
Kåre Lunden is of the opinion that King Sverre was a "pious" impostor: Sverre's goal was to rid the throne of Norway of the impostor Magnus Erlingsson, in order to bring kingship back into line with God's plan and order, which required the king to be a king's son. To obtain this end he proffered himself as king, well aware that he was himself no king's son. On the assumption that fraudulent practices were well nigh common stock of the times, especially within the Church, Lunden finds that Sverre's fraud must have appeared acceptable to him.
The Church through its ideological system could point to ends that were held to justify the fraudulent means. Sverre, however, would probably have lacked a comparable justification of his fraud, because it was only too obvious that the substitution of one impostor for another could hardly serve the purpose.
What is of main interest in this article are the psychological implications of this portrait, which offers the picture of a person simultaneously struggling to realise the truth. about kingship by means of the lie about his own identity, on an ideological and ethical basis, over a period of 25 years, without losing his grasp of the facts of reality.
This hypothesis seems to imply that King Sverre either lacked the ability to distinguish between right and wrong, or that he based his most important life project upon a deliberate, conscious ethical and mental conflict.
In the first instance Sverre's personality would bear resemblance to that of a psychopath. That would hardly form a sufficiently secure basis for a prolonged ideological crusade, with Sverre cast as a morally committed leader.
If, however, Sverre's life project was based upon a permanent, consciously perceived psycho-ethical conflict, such a pairing of career pattern and presupposed psychological constitution requires further explanations.
This hypothetical combination pattern may be evaluated in the light of psychological theories, in their treatment of personality structures, attitudes and psychological functions. For this purpose the cognitive dissonance theory, the psychoanalytical theory, and the incongruence theory have been chosen as frames of reference.
All of these theories seem to agree - using different metaphors and perspectives - that a condition of conscious psychological conflict will generate mental tension, which the person will seek to reduce or eliminate.
Such conflicts may be resolved rationally. In Sverre's case that would have meant either giving up his claim to the throne because he knew it to be false, or discarding his moral and ideological commitment. According to history he did not do the former; according to Lunden he did not do the latter.
According to psychological theory, a condition of unresolved psychological conflict will intensify tension to the point where psychological defence mechanisms are triggered. The operations of these mechanisms all involve loss of rationality to some degree. If such mechanisms were operational in the personality of King Sverre, the ensuing loss of rationality makes it difficult to understand how his career pattern could be implemented.
The personality portrait of King Sverre brought out in the Sverre's Saga offers the impression of a psychological constitution basically sound and well balanced. The problem of Sverre's identity is faced squarely; the contingent psychological difficulties are exposed and treated in a contemporary religious metaphor and context. The conflict is resolved in a rational way, which seems to preserve in Sverre an unimpaired grasp of reality. This is brought out in the saga's presentation of King Sverre's relation to heaven and hell, directly coupled to his identity problem. Sverre emphatically declined to spend eternity in the torments of hell, in order to obtain his kingdom by fraud. This answer to the key problem places Sverre in an existential context, and the logic of the argument is consistently incorporated into the saga story. This personality portrait appears reasonable, because it is rational and balanced, conforming to modern psychology's requirements concerning personality structures and functions.
The view of Sverre as a "pious" impostor calls for psychological explanations related to the person of Sverre, to the personality portrait of the saga, to the internal consistency of this portrait and its relation to the original and the propagandistic purpose of the text. Until such explanations are offered, it seems not unreasonable to assume that King Sverre, no matter who his father actually was, either truly believed him to be a king's son - probably the most credible alternative -, or that he was a non-pious fraud, or perhaps the victim of psychological defence mechanisms causing loss of rationality and original identity convictions. The last two alternatives will require further explanations, while the first seems to be in harmony with both the sources and modern psychology, providing a picture of mental balance that seems to be a necessary prerequisite for a career pattern like King Sverre's.
Edwin Torkelsen