First of all, what a brilliant idea to have a virtual conference on this issue. For what they're worth here are some initial thoughts of my own, which I offer merely as an opening gambit and in the spirit in which I hope this debate will be conducted - namely one of passion, generosity and good humour.
In the last issue of Storylines June Peters suggested that before the debate should take place we need to give time to considering what exactly we mean by 'tradition'. Whilst sharing her concerns about definitions, I was under the impression that this was going to be the substance of the debate itself. When (and if) we ever solve the problem of definitions, then I doubt whether there'll be an awful lot left to debate and very little energy left to debate it. So here are a few thoughts on the problems facing us.
Of course, central to the problem, is the fact that many of us (and I include myself in all of this) are often guilty of using the term 'tradition' rather too loosely, without fully considering what it means. We readily associate storytelling with some vague notion of something old and pre-industrial and then call this 'tradition'. No doubt this association of storytelling with the past has played an important part in attracting many people to the artform, especially those who may feel alienated by contemporary postmodern society. In this sense we use the word to mean old, genuine, uncontaminated and to engender a general feeling of pre-industrial simplicity and harmony with the environment. We want to convey a sense that these stories have been shaped by and are soaked in the wisdom of our ancestors, even if many of us are completely unaware who our ancestors were. (Maybe this is precisely the void that we are trying to fill.) And so, as professional storytellers, the term 'traditional' is something we use as a marketing tool, something with which to package our product and make it more attractive to our clients and our audiences. However, to suggest that tradition is about antiquity is really only a very small part of it, and a gross simplification at that.
At the SfS Inaugural Gathering in Birmingham in 1993 Muriel Bloch talked about our being 'orphaned to tradition'. However, in saying this she was really articulating a myth, rather than reality. She was expressing a feeling that has been around for at least two hundred years, (and no doubt longer than that), that tradition is dying out and that we are the last line of defence against the onslaught of modernity, which seeks to annihilate it. Yet we know that living traditions change and adapt continuously to meet new circumstances. Each generation redefines its traditions and each outgoing generation feels as if its traditions are dying out. The rapid social, political and scientific change that has occurred during the twentieth century has magnified this feeling, but it still doesn't mean that tradition is terminally ill.
When the folklore collectors of the 18th and 19th centuries went out collecting songs and stories from the rural populace, they were driven by a feeling that these stories were the final relics of ancient society and that if they weren't collected and preserved then pretty soon there would be no folklore left. Of course, today we understand that folklore is made of sterner stuff and is resilient to changes in society. Folklore is as much a part of modern society as it was to pre-industrial society. Nevertheless, the bemoaning of each adult generation of how tradition is dying out has become a tradition in itself. When the Opies began collecting childlore in the early 1950s they were told that radio and cinema had killed off tradition; collectors in the 1970s were told that television was the culprit; today the computer game, the video and satellite television are the bogeymen. And yet whilst, as storytellers, we are concerned with promoting the value of 'traditional' stories, we should also be wary of becoming aligned with the periodical conservative backlash against technological advances.
We also use the term 'traditional' in another way. Whenever I am asked by a teacher, "What kind of stories do you tell?", I often reply that I tell traditional ones. I am sincere about this (although some may argue that not all my stories are traditional!), but more importantly, in this sense I am using the term as a more user-friendly and fashionable synonym for the term 'folktale'. Now, I would guess that by 'folktale' most of us would mean a story that exists, or has existed, purely within oral tradition. And yet there are even problems with this. For the vast majority of us, our contact with the folktale is through 18th and 19th century literary retellings, or retellings of retellings, by folklorists who never shirked from rewriting and heavily editing their work. Whilst the central themes and structures of the stories may survive (although sometimes this is even open to debate), the extent to which these literary versions in any way reflect the original oral version, and the circumstances under which the stories were told, is highly questionable.
This is to say that the folktale, either in its literary form or its oral form, has always been susceptible to creativity, rewriting and innovation. Likewise, the use of structures, formulae and motifs derived from the folktale are evident in a wide range of other literature from Shakespeare to Stephen King. The relationship between oral and written literature, traditionality and non-traditionality, constancy and innovation, is extremely complex, co-dependent, mutually beneficial and by no means as clear-cut as we would often like it to be.
In addition we also need to differentiate between story traditions and storytelling traditions. We are far too often guilty, I feel, of concentrating on the traditional story and not giving enough emphasis to traditional contexts where both traditional and non-traditional stories are told. For example, the pub is a place where storytelling, usually of an informal nature, traditionally takes place. Some of those stories may be traditional jocular tales and jokes, many may be personal stories that have, through many retellings, acquired traditional features, and some may be completely non-traditional. Likewise the family get-together, perhaps at Christmas or at a funeral, is a traditional context for storytelling, even though many of the stories may be personal and family stories displaying varying amounts of traditionality in themselves. So, traditionality and non-traditionality do not readily separate themselves, but play happily in the same field with each other and an over-eagerness to segregate them may not only be well-nigh impossible, but also undesirable.
It could also (and indeed has been) argued that the current storytelling renaissance has little to do with established traditions, that it is not a revival, but rather an innovative use of traditional material within contemporary contexts, hence creating a new tradition. Maybe this is another debate to be had at another time, but it would surely do us no harm to recognise that traditions do not have to stretch back generations for them to have value.
It is, therefore, hardly surprising that we find ourselves engaged in this current debate when we are all using the term 'traditional' as a catch-all to mean many different things without fully considering the eclectic and changeable nature of tradition. So I would certainly welcome any debate that helps us focus on what we actually mean by tradition and how it precisely applies to the work that we do.
However, I must also admit to be a little sceptical as to whether we will ever (or should ever) reach a consensus as to a precise definition of 'tradition'. When I hear another storyteller talk about tradition I can usually, after a few minutes, get some idea of what they mean by the term. But I never precisely know. In fact, the only thing that I can be certain of is that my understanding of tradition is different to theirs and that is not to say that one of us is wrong and the other is right. The problem emerges because tradition and our understanding of it is culturally determined. We all have different traditions from each other because we all have different cultural backgrounds. As an example, I could tell you that the other week I was talking to a colleague from Cameroon about traditional storytelling. Although we could both agree on its value and we could hold an intelligent conversation on the matter, it also was quite clear that because of our cultural differences, we both had completely different concepts of what tradition is. In fact, it was these differences that came to dominate the conversation and became the most interesting and exciting things to emerge from it.
It would, therefore, follow that, although a huge amount can be gained from this debate and that it would do none of us any harm to focus our own thoughts around the terminology we so readily use. However, it is questionable whether we will ever be able to agree on precise definitions and it is arguable whether we should even try to do this, since this would mean the supremacy of one person's (or group's) definition over another.
Certainly, there are stories that I tell which I consider highly traditional, but others would not, and I'm sure the reverse is true. That is absolutely fine, but I would become extremely worried if one particular view of traditionality prevailed. If this were to happen, then traditionality would come to be worn as a badge of honour by storytellers and the assumption would be that stories which conform to the dominant definition would be inherently superior to those that did not. The thought of a small number of storytellers imposing quality control on everybody else is not one that fills me with joy!
It is precisely for the reason that there are any number of precise definitions that I would personally be unhappy with the SfS releasing some kind of mission statement or policy statement that specifically referred to traditional storytelling. Of course, to have this debate in the first place does us great credit, and it certainly does none of us any harm to focus our thoughts on the nature of tradition and to acknowledge that whoever we are and whatever stories we tell, we all owe a great debt to traditional stories and storytelling, because it is the basis of our work. However, to impose a definition and criteria on the whole storytelling world would, I feel, be divisive and destructive.
So, I suppose I am arguing for a simultaneous focussing and broadening of definitions - a focussing of definitions on a personal level so that we begin to give greater thought to the meaning of the key words we use in the day to day execution of out art, and a broadening of definitions on a collective level to recognise that traditional and non-traditional are not opposite forms, but close siblings that need not be differentiated between so aggressively, and that the very terms can legitimately mean different (even contradictory) things to different people, and this does not effect its validity. In this way my hope would be for tradition to be the meek, but acknowledged foundation from which creativity in storytelling can flourish, rather than the chains that bind us to a narrow dogma. My fear is that instead of being 'orphaned to tradition', we may end up being shackled to it. I hope not.
As previously explained, these are my own initial thoughts and opinions on the subject and I would welcome any comments (supportive or otherwise!) from the Conference. I certainly look forward to the ensuing discussions and to having my opinions become more informed, and perhaps even changed!
posted 24/7/98