Desiring the Past. Retrophilia and Queer Temporality in the "18th Century"
”Desiring the Past” presents an innovative queertheoretical perspective on theory of history, focusing on desire as a historiographical driving force. This theoretical investigation is necessitated by the last decade’s burgeoning interest in the past, materialized in various expressions such as nostalgic fashion trends, political retrotopias, historical novels, biopics and popular history and reenactment. The original perspective of the project at hand consists of putting mainstream theory of history in dialogue with the research field of queer temporality studies, a manoeuvre that brings new focal points and research questions into the fore. Mainstream theory of history has hitherto been oblivious of the insights presented in the dynamic field of queer temporality studies, while queer temporality research has not been fully conversant in classic historiographical research. The study starts out from the thesis that increased public interest in history can be explained by a multidimensional model of what is here conceptualized as desiring the past, which has not only erotic but also cognitive, emotional and political aspects. By extension this proposition might even enable an explanation of something which many researchers consider a ”time crisis”, or breaking point, in contemporary Western historical consciousness, i. e. the notion that the future no longer appears promising and desirable but instead bleak and frightful in times of climate change, pandemics and war.
Final report
The monograph Begäret efter det förflutna. Retrofili och queer temporalitet i 2000-talets historievurm (Desiring the Past. Retrophilia and Queer Temporality in the History Boom of the New Millennium, Makadam 2025) examines how the new millennium’s fascination with the past takes on pleasurable expressions in a time when it is no longer possible to even get a glimpse of a brighter future beyond climate threats, wars, and pandemics. Perhaps the growing interest in history is simply about a moment’s escape, dreaming and fantasizing, or perhaps the dream of the past is not an innocent one. But whatever the purpose and consequence may be, the desire for the past has something important to say about our own present.
The insights of the book have been pieced together into a queer-temporal theory, a retrophilia, consisting of pleasurable phenomena such as ecstasy, authenticity fetishism, and identification fantasy. The desire for the past is about pleasure and a longing to sensualize and encounter what once was. Throughout, the book's case studies have explored various ways of approaching the past, all characterized by alternative temporalities that break with linear progression in interesting shifts between to be and not to be, and between reality and fiction.
In the present study, desire is understood as a complex of affective effects rather than an expressive manifestation of an inner essence. Emotions and drives both construct and are constructed by us in a social and cultural context, meaning that desire tends to function performatively. Therefore, the book studies how desire is represented, rather than seeking to define what it is. The multidimensional continuum of desire, as argued in the book, involves a cognitively charged longing to understand history, and the emotional experience of feeling, touching, and sensually encounter another era—that is, lära känna (learning and feeling) the past. It can also involve a politically inclined presentation of an alternative history. But above all, a desire-driven retrophilia is about an erotically charged longing to merge with something that no longer exists. The desire to encounter another epoch results in temporal border crossings, and time can thus be defined as queer. Ultimately, a queer perspective on attempts to make sense of the past has considerable analytical potential, as it not only focuses on the pleasurable aspects of interest in what has been, but also avoids placing the normative in the seat of honour by instead linking several dimensions of desire in the form of a continuum without a center.
The analytical tools of the research process have crystallized over time from a diversified empirical material that, with a focus on Swedish representations of the 18th-century, has consisted of historical novels, popular historical TV programs, historical reenactments, and political retrotopias. Through the identification of the kaleidoscopic facets of desire, three main patterns have emerged: first, the ecstatic moments of immersion, when you suddenly find yourself not not being in history; second, the desirable objects of authenticity fetishism, whose perceived "authenticity" bridges the gap between the present and the past; and third, identification fantasies where the past is viewed as though it were an old acquaintance.
The representations of the "18th century" in the book are viewed as a feminist figuration, which constitutes a kind of materially-based fantasy with emancipatory potential. The figuration, as such, shows other temporalities—not the 18th century, or even the "18th century," but a perception of time where now and then are not two entirely separate ontological entities but intersect in ongoing processes. In the first case study's analysis of Gabriella Håkansson's retrophilia fiction, the portrayal of the (partly) fictional antiquarian society Dilettanti highlights the sexual pleasure evoked by Priapus figurines, which ultimately generate a desire for aesthetic and political change. Her historical novel series Aldermanns Arvinge and Kättarnas Tempel The Heir of Aldermann, The Temple of Heretics), in turn, represents a queer reclamation of the 18th century, rewriting history by focusing on the bodily erotic aspects of the desire for the past.
In Lyra Kolis’ autofictive novel Blödningen (Bleed) the readers are invited to an 18th-century larp. Here, as in Håkansson’s novels, libertines are represented when having intercourse, blow jobs, whippings and murders. LARPing, like historical reenactment, focuses on evoking a pleasure-filled immersive experience that transcends the boundary between then and now, aiming to summon actual felt emotions and experiences. The ecstatic moment's "reality slip" here refers to the dissolution of time and border-crossing encounters with other eras. Although the experience of being in the 18th century is not literal, the feeling of being there is very real. Koli compares the ecstacy of larp with BDSM-sessions, and points out their common paradox of both to be and not to be at the same time. Researchers have referred to the paradox of real affect and unreal context as performative authenticity, and they view it in terms of doing. This authenticity process seeks an indexical encounter with an original, something "genuine," which in turn can create true feeling. And in this sense, it's entirely possible to make out with history, if you fully surrender to it.
In the chapter about learning (and) feeling the past (lära känna), it is assumed that sense and sensibility are inseparably intertwined. In the popular historical TV series Historieätarna (History Eaters), history is sensually brought to life as the hosts "lend" their bodies to different time periods, crawling "under the skin" of historical figures by living their lives. The program's premise is part of the contemporary trend described by Alison Landsberg as a "profound popular desire to touch and be touched by history." Both cognitive and emotional aspects of the desire for the past are thus set into motion. It is not enough for the historically interested to simply learn more; it is also about sensualizing and being able to touch, to feel, what has been. The absence of the past is both concealed and repressed, and the fantasy that re-creation is still possible is kept alive. However, the authentic representation is an impossibility, even as Historieätarna and other popular genres like reality TV shows and autofiction are structured precisely around the idea that it can be made possible through the right objects, clothing, and environments. The desire for what is perceived as authentic objects is what is here referred to as authenticity fetishism. The difference between then and now is both marked and left out in the dual movement in which authentic objects can be said to function as a bridge between the present and the past.
Most people encounter the past in popular cultural forms, and historical writing can be viewed as a broader social form of knowledge, historical work, as Jerome de Groot calls it. The distinction between history-interested amateurs and professional historians therefore needs to be complicated, which the book seeks to do by examining historical reenactment in the role of expertise in the popular science TV program Vetenskapens värld (The World of Science). Historical reenactment in terms of "reproduction" of the past can, in this sense, be compared to, for example, experimental archaeology. As in Historieätarna, it involves practically using objects and knowledge of things like fencing, cooking, and craftsmanship to see how they actually function in practice. In this way, the desire in authenticity fetishism for what is perceived as authentic objects can contribute to different knowledge and new perspectives on what has been.
The aspect of authenticity is deepened in the final empirical chapter, which discusses Ernst Brunner’s “history” of the king’s assassin Anckarström and Anna Laestadius Larsson’s “herstory” of the duchess, and later queen, Charlotta. By joining critics of the classical opposition between fact and fiction, the book's investigation reflects on the construction of authenticity in their portrayals of history. In this sense, the political aspects of the desire for the past are focused on here, specifically in terms of identification fantasy. For example, the ideological retrotopia of the Sweden Democrats (SD) is defined by identification fantasies about a formerly ethnically homogeneous Sweden. In the analysis of the, in a broader social sense, political Kulturprofil scandal in the Swedish Academy, the identification fantasies are centered around the later part of the 18th century. For example, the Swdish Academy member Katarina Frostenson places herself in the position of the beheaded Marie Antoinette and allows her husband, the Kulturprofil, to take the place of Axel von Fersen, who was lynched by the mob. Another member of the Swedish Academy parallels the #MeToo movement with the French Revolution. The chapter argues that the clichés and narrative patterns of historical "conspiracy thrillers" form the resonant backdrop in the conspiracy theories surrounding the Kulturprofil scandal, which ultimately are seen as an eroticized politicization—meaning the sexualization of an already politicized history.
The desire for the past can thus be both significant and pleasurable, but at the same time, it is necessary to take responsibility for its cultural and political consequences. The book’s findings show that there are no watertight divisions between the erotic, cognitive, emotional, and political dimensions of desire for what has been; instead, they are loosely intertwined, whether they serve more or less virtuous purposes. The question of which stories we choose to tell therefore becomes decisive for what is to come, and the excessive lust and longing of retrophilia is worth taking seriously—especially when the future is on fire.
The insights of the book have been pieced together into a queer-temporal theory, a retrophilia, consisting of pleasurable phenomena such as ecstasy, authenticity fetishism, and identification fantasy. The desire for the past is about pleasure and a longing to sensualize and encounter what once was. Throughout, the book's case studies have explored various ways of approaching the past, all characterized by alternative temporalities that break with linear progression in interesting shifts between to be and not to be, and between reality and fiction.
In the present study, desire is understood as a complex of affective effects rather than an expressive manifestation of an inner essence. Emotions and drives both construct and are constructed by us in a social and cultural context, meaning that desire tends to function performatively. Therefore, the book studies how desire is represented, rather than seeking to define what it is. The multidimensional continuum of desire, as argued in the book, involves a cognitively charged longing to understand history, and the emotional experience of feeling, touching, and sensually encounter another era—that is, lära känna (learning and feeling) the past. It can also involve a politically inclined presentation of an alternative history. But above all, a desire-driven retrophilia is about an erotically charged longing to merge with something that no longer exists. The desire to encounter another epoch results in temporal border crossings, and time can thus be defined as queer. Ultimately, a queer perspective on attempts to make sense of the past has considerable analytical potential, as it not only focuses on the pleasurable aspects of interest in what has been, but also avoids placing the normative in the seat of honour by instead linking several dimensions of desire in the form of a continuum without a center.
The analytical tools of the research process have crystallized over time from a diversified empirical material that, with a focus on Swedish representations of the 18th-century, has consisted of historical novels, popular historical TV programs, historical reenactments, and political retrotopias. Through the identification of the kaleidoscopic facets of desire, three main patterns have emerged: first, the ecstatic moments of immersion, when you suddenly find yourself not not being in history; second, the desirable objects of authenticity fetishism, whose perceived "authenticity" bridges the gap between the present and the past; and third, identification fantasies where the past is viewed as though it were an old acquaintance.
The representations of the "18th century" in the book are viewed as a feminist figuration, which constitutes a kind of materially-based fantasy with emancipatory potential. The figuration, as such, shows other temporalities—not the 18th century, or even the "18th century," but a perception of time where now and then are not two entirely separate ontological entities but intersect in ongoing processes. In the first case study's analysis of Gabriella Håkansson's retrophilia fiction, the portrayal of the (partly) fictional antiquarian society Dilettanti highlights the sexual pleasure evoked by Priapus figurines, which ultimately generate a desire for aesthetic and political change. Her historical novel series Aldermanns Arvinge and Kättarnas Tempel The Heir of Aldermann, The Temple of Heretics), in turn, represents a queer reclamation of the 18th century, rewriting history by focusing on the bodily erotic aspects of the desire for the past.
In Lyra Kolis’ autofictive novel Blödningen (Bleed) the readers are invited to an 18th-century larp. Here, as in Håkansson’s novels, libertines are represented when having intercourse, blow jobs, whippings and murders. LARPing, like historical reenactment, focuses on evoking a pleasure-filled immersive experience that transcends the boundary between then and now, aiming to summon actual felt emotions and experiences. The ecstatic moment's "reality slip" here refers to the dissolution of time and border-crossing encounters with other eras. Although the experience of being in the 18th century is not literal, the feeling of being there is very real. Koli compares the ecstacy of larp with BDSM-sessions, and points out their common paradox of both to be and not to be at the same time. Researchers have referred to the paradox of real affect and unreal context as performative authenticity, and they view it in terms of doing. This authenticity process seeks an indexical encounter with an original, something "genuine," which in turn can create true feeling. And in this sense, it's entirely possible to make out with history, if you fully surrender to it.
In the chapter about learning (and) feeling the past (lära känna), it is assumed that sense and sensibility are inseparably intertwined. In the popular historical TV series Historieätarna (History Eaters), history is sensually brought to life as the hosts "lend" their bodies to different time periods, crawling "under the skin" of historical figures by living their lives. The program's premise is part of the contemporary trend described by Alison Landsberg as a "profound popular desire to touch and be touched by history." Both cognitive and emotional aspects of the desire for the past are thus set into motion. It is not enough for the historically interested to simply learn more; it is also about sensualizing and being able to touch, to feel, what has been. The absence of the past is both concealed and repressed, and the fantasy that re-creation is still possible is kept alive. However, the authentic representation is an impossibility, even as Historieätarna and other popular genres like reality TV shows and autofiction are structured precisely around the idea that it can be made possible through the right objects, clothing, and environments. The desire for what is perceived as authentic objects is what is here referred to as authenticity fetishism. The difference between then and now is both marked and left out in the dual movement in which authentic objects can be said to function as a bridge between the present and the past.
Most people encounter the past in popular cultural forms, and historical writing can be viewed as a broader social form of knowledge, historical work, as Jerome de Groot calls it. The distinction between history-interested amateurs and professional historians therefore needs to be complicated, which the book seeks to do by examining historical reenactment in the role of expertise in the popular science TV program Vetenskapens värld (The World of Science). Historical reenactment in terms of "reproduction" of the past can, in this sense, be compared to, for example, experimental archaeology. As in Historieätarna, it involves practically using objects and knowledge of things like fencing, cooking, and craftsmanship to see how they actually function in practice. In this way, the desire in authenticity fetishism for what is perceived as authentic objects can contribute to different knowledge and new perspectives on what has been.
The aspect of authenticity is deepened in the final empirical chapter, which discusses Ernst Brunner’s “history” of the king’s assassin Anckarström and Anna Laestadius Larsson’s “herstory” of the duchess, and later queen, Charlotta. By joining critics of the classical opposition between fact and fiction, the book's investigation reflects on the construction of authenticity in their portrayals of history. In this sense, the political aspects of the desire for the past are focused on here, specifically in terms of identification fantasy. For example, the ideological retrotopia of the Sweden Democrats (SD) is defined by identification fantasies about a formerly ethnically homogeneous Sweden. In the analysis of the, in a broader social sense, political Kulturprofil scandal in the Swedish Academy, the identification fantasies are centered around the later part of the 18th century. For example, the Swdish Academy member Katarina Frostenson places herself in the position of the beheaded Marie Antoinette and allows her husband, the Kulturprofil, to take the place of Axel von Fersen, who was lynched by the mob. Another member of the Swedish Academy parallels the #MeToo movement with the French Revolution. The chapter argues that the clichés and narrative patterns of historical "conspiracy thrillers" form the resonant backdrop in the conspiracy theories surrounding the Kulturprofil scandal, which ultimately are seen as an eroticized politicization—meaning the sexualization of an already politicized history.
The desire for the past can thus be both significant and pleasurable, but at the same time, it is necessary to take responsibility for its cultural and political consequences. The book’s findings show that there are no watertight divisions between the erotic, cognitive, emotional, and political dimensions of desire for what has been; instead, they are loosely intertwined, whether they serve more or less virtuous purposes. The question of which stories we choose to tell therefore becomes decisive for what is to come, and the excessive lust and longing of retrophilia is worth taking seriously—especially when the future is on fire.