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History may be written by the victors, but the voices of those who kicked against authority – whether for political or religious reasons, or simply for their own amusement – can still be heard, ringing deep into our past. Although much of this dissent relied on the spoken or written word, objects can also preserve stories of underground movements, open rebellion, and stinging satires. How many such artefacts, though, can be found in the collections of state museums, themselves often stereotyped as bastions of authority?
The answer, in the case of the British Museum, is more than you might think – and around 100 highlights are now on display in a new exhibition, I Object, that runs until early next year (see Further information). Its contents have been selected by Ian Hislop, the satirical broadcaster and editor of Private Eye – an organ that is no stranger to challenging the official view of events – who was invited to co-curate this collection of irreverent objects with the help of Tom Hockenhull, British Museum Curator for Modern Money within the Department of Coins and Medals.

Selecting suitably subversive artefacts from the museum’s nine million-strong holdings was no small task – at the exhibition launch we were told that the project took more than three years to come together – but the result is a diverse mix ranging across the globe and spanning a broad sweep of history. Artefacts from ancient Mesopotamia, Egypt, and the satirical heartlands of Greece and Rome vie for attention with much more modern objects – one of the most recent being a newly acquired pink knitted ‘pussyhat’, worn on a January 2017 women’s rights march to symbolise rejection of misogynistic remarks by the then newly elected US President Donald Trump.

Taken together, the displays represent an eclectic and international array that falls into three broad categories: openly political messages campaigning for specific causes; covert (and often carefully concealed) undermining of those in authority or expressions of support for opposing powers; and satirical or otherwise humorous items. In Britain, the ‘Golden Age of Satire’ is held to be the 18th century, when caricaturists like James Gillray and Richard Newton wielded their art against the powers of the day with devastating effect. Of these often-humiliating depictions, the British Museum has an embarrassment of riches to choose from, boasting as it does the largest collection of 17th- to 19th-century satirical prints in the country; six representative examples are included in the exhibition. Other artefacts from these shores reflect expressions of discontent from other periods – including times when dissent was downright dangerous.

Badge of honour?
We are fortunate today to live in a Britain where we can express our views openly – from protest marches and radio phone-ins to the proliferation of political commentary (whether witty or more crudely phrased) that can be found on social media. One of the clearest ways to wear your principles on your sleeve – or your lapel – though, is with a colourful pin badge. Modern examples displayed in the exhibition champion causes that will be immediately recognisable to contemporary viewers – anti-austerity messages, the 2016 US Presidential campaign, the NHS, the Free Palestine movement, and both sides of the Scottish independence referendum of 2014 – but older badges tell less well-known stories.
One of these was worn by supporters of the National League for Opposing Woman Suffrage – an organisation that campaigned vociferously between 1910 and 1918 against female voting rights, even though they counted many women among their members – who ultimately found themselves on the wrong side of history and have faded from view. (For more on the material culture of the women’s suffrage movement, see CA 336.) This group may have been trying to preserve the status quo, but another pin, shaped like the number 45, represents rather more revolutionary ideas.