Eric Vandenbroeck 5 June 2018:
Ever since David Hackett Fischer's book Historians'
Fallacies have been a hotly debated topic.
Each of us lives in overlapping geographical and temporal units that
affect our views about history. And especially world history since it is
concerned with everything that has ever happened. Most historians simple approach
it by reducing it in size, and condensing the events that we are interested
in investigating. Knowing how far to do this is very, very tricky, and depends
to a large extent on the level you are studying it.
Also, when history was first taking shape as a university discipline in
the nineteenth century, elite young men were fed a diet of Greek and Roman
history.
The misuse of antiquity and
the Holy Roman Empire
As a result of the above mentioned, including to a degree also today,
Historians in the early 20th Century viewed modern peoples as superior to the
ancients, and, as a corollary, portrayed Western Europe and eventually the West
as superior to the rest of the world. The belief in progress – validated by the
triumph of reason and science – helped solidify the Western sense of ascendancy
over other regions; the West and its version of secular modernity now
represented the future of the entire world.
In the early 20th century this racialized history has often been
perceived as somehow Germanocentric. Plus then next,
given the exclusionary nature of National Socialist racism, the Nazis were to a
degree obligated to embellish the history of Frederick’s Prussia and the Holy
Roman Empire and to illustrate the family tree that connected Hermann der Cherusker (Arminius the Cheruscan)
to Hitler.
But references to classical antiquity were legion in public discourse,
while the regime’s official architecture revived Rome’s monumental classicism
and Nazi sculptors rediscovered the Greek nude. The reinvention of history, the
fabrication of an origin myth, and the many alleged trials and tribulations of
the Indo-Germanic peoples helped create the Nazi subject, whose racial identity
and history was inflated by the annexation of a culturally prestigious past.
The annexation of antiquity gave the new man an identity he could truly
be proud like. The prestige of his predecessors required and commanded that his
contemporary exponents work to build a future that would be equally glorious.
The past showed that despite the vicissitudes of a mediocre and unpredictable
present, the inherent potential of the race remained and demanded to be
fulfilled.
The building of the present and the construction of the future would
lean upon the was achievements of the Nordic peoples of antiquity, just as the
great Greek and Roman thinkers would be read, contemplated, understood, and
followed.
But Nordicist theory on the Indo-Germanic
roots of the Greeks and Romans wasn’t restricted only to the cloistered, at
times almost confidential, a world of professional scholars. A much wider
readership awaited and was targeted in a variety of ways.
SS ideological propaganda, for example, repeated the point incessantly.
One booklet illustrated the Nordic origins of Greco-Roman civilization with a
series of blueprints retracing the evolution of the Germanic house in
comparison with the Greek temple: “It was from the Germanic house, with its
vestibule at the entrance, that the Greek temple developed, copying and
perfecting its form. . . . We see here a proud trace of classical architecture.
The Greek temple is thus additional proof that the great civilizations did not
come from the East, but from the North. (1) Another of these SS pamphlets(2)
presented a portrait of a young recruit side by side with the profile of “a
Roman head of state.” The virile pose of the young SS soldier apparently
displayed a familiar echo of Roman’s masculine gravitas: “The SS soldier, son
of a German countryman, carries the same Nordic blood as the men we are about
to see. We will show him side by side with a Roman statesman, to remind us that
the Roman Empire itself, like that of the Persians, the civilization of the
Greeks . . . [was] built by the creative force of the same Nordic blood.”(3)
Elsewhere I pointed out that the centralization
of the myth of the state clearly distinguished fascist totalitarianism from
Nazi and communist totalitarianism.
Nationalism based on Religion
and Language
As we initially have seen when I started this website, beliefs about political authority changed during the Thirty Years’
War. Around the same time, I also analyzed how religion and Nationalism
intertwined in countries like lceland,
ltaly, Latvia, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Macedonia,
Malta, Moldova, The Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, Romania, Serbia and
Montenegro, Slovak Republic, Slovenia, Spain, Switzerland, and Ukraine.
As seen in the above examples some of the factors that tend to shape
religious nationalism are religious frontiers and threats.
For example the lrish nation began to identify
in opposition to this new threat, but the lrish
sentiment did not begin to take on religious tones until after the English
Reformation, at which point the English became not just a threatening other,
but a religious other as well, and lasted in the N.Ireland
to this day.
In Poland, the threat from religious frontiers has also been clear. The
religious divide between Poland and its non-Catholic neighbors (Russia and
Germany) has been one of the more prominent features in the history of the
Polish nation. Significantly, the role of threat is also demonstrated through
the diminishing power of the Polish state following the Golden Era. The
subjugation of the Poles to Russian and Soviet rule further enhanced the
nation-building power of the Catholic Church.
In Greece, as in many nations formerly under Ottoman rule, the Orthodox
Church played a critical role in national differentiation. This was due to the
fact that Greeks were most dearly differentiated from their oppressors by
religion - the Ottomans were, of course, Islamic. The threat from Turkey
continues today on a variety of fronts, perhaps most notably in Cyprus. As a
result, the Greeks continue to emphasize the importance of Orthodoxy in their
national concept.
Also England reinforced this understanding by demonstrating that the
threatening nature of a religious frontier can change - and with it, the
religious links to nationalism. As British power expanded, the lrish threat diminished, and Protestantism was no longer
essential in national differentiation.
However many of the cases I investigated as indicated at the time also
be seen to be on a borderline. Italy, for instance,
is difficult to categorize. Is it a secular nation that is very religious? In
other words, are the Italian people largely religious, although the linkage
does not carry over into nationalism? Or is ltaly a
case of a weak religious nationalism, wherein there is a linkage between
religion and nation, albeit weaker than Ireland, Poland, or Greece? An argument
could be made either way.
Thus the basic problem with rational choice explanations of secularism
or religiosity (in this case at least) is that they get the process reversed.
The demand for religion is not fixed. Rather, demand for religion varies
according to a variety of factors, including religious frontiers and threats.
As such, the assumption that supply shapes overall religiosity is faulty.
Rather, as is true of most economic situations, supply is driven by demand. In
Poland, there was a strong demand for Catholicism due to historical and
political circumstances. In Britain, there was a more subdued demand (in
general) and a wider demand across the spectrum. In the end, the evidence
simply does not support the argument.
An interesting case as I pointed out is the American civil religion has
its own "holy scriptures," the Declaration of
Independence and the Constitution, which are treasured and venerated like the
Tables of the Law. It has its own prophets, such as the Pilgrim Fathers. It
celebrates its own sacred heroes such as George Washington, the American Moses.
Going beyond the aspects of religious frontiers and threats thereafter I
analyzed a number of other countries with a different Nationalist
setting, like those with language as the central subject of historical inquiry,
including more recently such like the concept of Han
Chinese.
Nationalism and the misuse of
History
And while in the case of the Nazi's or Italian Fascism (not to mention
many other forms of Nationalism), I pointed out nationalism and the misuse of
History there are of course governments who deliberately may create or support
an alternative narrative to mobilize people in rapidly changing societies such as we have seen, in the case of China. Thus the
recent national history of China has been characterized as a miserable past
when China suffered due to the force from the outside. This historical belief
has been institutionalized by the education system in China since 1991. In
combination with people’s pride of ancient Chinese civilization, the historical
education with an emphasis on the country’s miserable past resulted in the construction of Chinese nationalistic identity:
their collective desire to recover the central position of China in the world
became the driving force to build their modernity. This mythically projected
future leads to the concealment of internal conflicts and violence inside the
national history in many cases.
Also, educational institutions themselves can attempt to exert their own
perspective on history, as in Japan with the
debate over Japan’s history textbooks focusing on wartime victimhood and
victimization. Progressive and conservative power coexisted in the
education sector in Japan including the Yoshida
Doctrine. The former tried to emphasize malefaction done to Asians and
Japanese people’s responsibilities during that imperialism period. On the other
hand, the conservative force attempted to include remorse for the past and
Japanese nationalistic view of history. And as described in the above link this
narrative regarding the wartime suffering of the Japanese people can induce a
critical perspective on imperial wars and their disastrous impact on ordinary
people, apart from the original intention of the conservative branch of the
Japanese educational establishment.
Of course in industrialized society, there
are multiple narratives of national history, and depending on the kind of
historical schedules, different values are associated with national
identification. Especially, knowledge about identity construction could be
valuable in the globalized world: both to a country that is already
multicultural like Australia, to a country that has just become a multicultural
society, and to countries that are bewildered by globalization. The thesis and
further research in line with it could give practical implications regarding
how to avoid exclusive national identity in international contact settings, how
to resist to political manipulations of historical narratives, and how to
promote international relationships in the globalized world. More profoundly,
the thesis implies a prediction about future, that globalization would create a
more complicated map of culture in the world or even in a country, resulting
from conflicts and reconciliation between traditional values and modernity, and
between material development and mental life.
The future of History
What we need more than ever now are histories that are deep and wide and
histories that are minutely particular and histories of dimensions and units in
between because we live in a world of many dimensions, from the local to the
national and the global. History as an academic discipline assumed that humans
were the proper subject of history or at least humans who could write and
therefore produce documents. Increasingly, however, historians have recognized
that humans do not live and have not lived alone on the planet and do not make
history just about each other. People are always interacting with the
environment in which they live, with the animals and machines that inhabit the
same spaces, and with the microbes and pathogens that make human life possible
and sometimes miserable. Awareness of a deeper and broader sense of time has
helped draw historians to studying the interactions between humans and their
environment, settlement their animals and machines, and their diseases. Humans
do not entirely control these interactions, like hurricanes, epidemics,
recalcitrant animals, and crashing computers all show. The environment,
animals, microbes, and perhaps even machines have their agency in the world;
they act independently of humans and shape the human world. Histories of these
interactions enable us to recognize that humans are not masters of the universe
and that our disregard for the planet and other species has created problems
that we must now face.
Research on such questions is now popping up everywhere. Elephants,
common in China 4,000 years ago, were steadily pushed southward into smaller
and smaller areas as farmers claimed land, destroyed the forest habitat,
exterminated elephants who threatened their crops, and finally hunted them for
ivory. Medievalists have shown that access to water in Europe shaped settlement
patterns and conflicts over property rights. Studies of Native Americans in the
United States have demonstrated the devastating agricultural and social effects
of the acquisition of horses by some tribes at the end of the seventeenth
century. In what has been termed “the Columbian Exchange,” the European
conquest of the New World opened the way to massive transfers of plants,
animals, diseases, and human populations between the New World and Europe. To
cite only one more example among many, global cooling in the seventeenth
century encouraged Europeans to seek colonial outlets while also hampering
early attempts at settlement in North America: extreme weather produced high
mortality rates among would-be colonists in Jamestown, for example, and also
made the long ocean voyages even more dangerous. Attention to whole earth time
is enlarging the canvas of historical analysis, and the pictures that are
emerging are often very different from those familiar in the past.
While it might be said that humans, oceans, horses, airplanes, and the
syphilis bacterium occupy the same time frame, because humans have invented the
time frames that encompass them, they do not experience the progression of time
in the same way or even experience the passage of time as progression at all.
But more important still, the heterogeneous communities of humans in the
present and the past have experienced and conceptualized time in many different
ways. Another of the exciting new perspectives of historical research is the
study of different organizations and experiences of time. We live in a
globalizing world in which synchronicity and simultaneity are increasingly
important, but time zones did not even exist before the end of the 1800s, and
they only came into use because of the needs of railroad schedules. The
experiences of nighttime before gas lighting, of seasons before
industrialization, and of work before wireless communication is almost as
foreign to us now as the notions of time of the pre-Hispanic Maya, for example,
who recorded the passage of time in hieroglyphic texts.
The history of different systems of organizing time shows how contingent
and variable those systems have been and so reminds us that ours, too, is a
product of history and not universally valid. Not to mention that national and
global histories are constructed on the building blocks provided by a localized
history.
The tension between our own history and someone else’s is likewise very
productive of new insights. Every nation’s or group’s history tries to
establish its singularity, but identity histories tend to follow similar
narrative patterns: the search for roots, the story of overcoming obstacles,
and the laying out of challenges still to be faced.
Attention to groups that have been excluded in the past from the
narrative disrupts the familiar story and leads to the drafting of new
narratives. The conflict has been especially intense in settler societies.
Should the national history focus on the settlers, or those who were displaced,
or both?
The “Aboriginal history wars” of the 2000s in Australia provide a prime
example, and they show that resolution if it comes at all, comes from
discussing and debating the tensions, not from trying to make them
disappear.(4)
The tension between our history and theirs can extend to a global scale.
Earlier writers of the history of the West, have too often presumed the West’s
superiority over the non-West, but consideration of the long history of Western
relations with other regions reveals other possibilities. For the Romans,
Europe was the land of the barbarians, the very antithesis of civilization. The
thoughts of Greek thinkers such as Aristotle that was eventually posited as the
fount of Western civilization came to Europeans via translations from Arabic
into Latin between ca. 1150 and 1250. Many historians now
agree that the dominant economic power in the world between 1100 and 1800 was
China, not Europe. Much of the impetus for Europe’s interest in
international trade and hence for the development of trans-Atlantic slavery,
and even arguably for industrialization, came from the European desire for
goods from the east: at first spices, then later, and most significantly, silk,
tea, and porcelain from China and calicoes from India.
Superiority, whether in trade, technology, military power, or culture, has shifted
from region to region around the globe and will continue to shift in the
future.
One aspect is also that maintaining the tension between academic and
popular histories seems the most desirable option; historians have to find
their way between the profession’s and the university’s demands for new
information and interpretations, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, the
imperative to translate that knowledge into accessible forms.
Balancing past and future
Balancing past and future, the last of the sets of tensions outlined
here, presents unexpected difficulties. We want to know how we came to be where
we are now to be better prepared for meeting the challenges of the future, but
we also want to know where we have been in order to maintain a sense of
continuity over time with our families, nations, or the earth itself.
Unfortunately, the former – shaping the future – has begun to overshadow the
latter – preserving the sense of continuity.
But the future is meaningless without the sense of continuity. As the
discipline of history has evolved, and as popular and public history has drawn
more interest, the center of gravity of history has shifted toward the present.
It is inconceivable to us now that every Harvard University student would have
to take a course on Roman history. There is very little agreement among
professors or the public about what every educated person ought to know. Even
within the discipline of history, which is by definition about the past,
research now focuses more often on the last century or two than on the further
distant past. Until the 1970s, most scholars who aspired to be considered great
historians in Europe or the United States wrote about the foundational periods
of state formation, that is, either the Middle Ages or the sixteenth and
seventeenth century in Europe or the colonies and the early republic in the
United States. In France, the period ranging from the Renaissance of the
fifteenth century to the French Revolution is still called “the modern epoch,”
whereas history after 1789 is “contemporary,” by implication more suitable to
journalism than historical scholarship. Nineteenth-century history got a
foothold in France in the 1970s and the twentieth century followed in the
1990s. Now the great historians in France, like those in Britain and the United
States, are more likely to be those who write about the twentieth century.
AAs enrollment figures at just about any institution of higher education
will show, students prefer to take history courses on the most recent periods
of time. They can still be lured to ancient or medieval history by a
charismatic instructor, or a university requirement, but they flock to courses
on twentieth-century. Thus history is in danger, as an academic field, of
neglecting much of what has happened in the past. (5)
“Presentism” takes various forms and not just an interest in more recent
history. It also includes judging people in the past by present-day norms.
Hegel was presentist in the sense that he considered the German conception of
freedom as the benchmark for all people, but we are equally presentist when we
criticize Hegel for not sharing our understanding of the world today.
Presentism is an enduring tension in history’s relation to the past; history
would have no interest at all if it did not speak to our present-day interests,
so we need a dose of presentism, but if we only view the past from our own
standpoint, we simply impose our standards on it. The dose of presentism cannot
be too high, or it will lead us to commit anachronism, that is, the failure to respect
chronology. Then the past just becomes an inert mirror of ourselves rather than
a place that we can discover and from which we can learn. But the dose of
presentism also cannot be too low; sometimes we have to judge the past
according to our own values. Would we want to analyze Hitler as just another
politician or his treatment of the disabled, Jews, Roma, or Slavs as just
another policy option? Getting the right dose of presentism is a constant
challenge, and we probably only have a chance of getting it right if our
choices are constantly up for discussion and debate.
Even with the emergence of a deeper and broader notion of historical
time, the two earlier approaches are with us still, and each one provides a
unique access to historical knowledge. A globalizing culture still needs
exemplars, which can be found in many places and not just ancient Greece and
Rome. The Epic of Gilgamesh, the sayings of the Buddha, the teachings of
Confucius, and the oral traditions of countless African or South American
tribes are just a few examples. Wisdom is not fundamentally altered by changes
in technology, growth in population, or specialization of occupations. Wisdom
can be found in learning about how people in the past confronted their
challenges.
Progress may be in question, but the very act of telling a story – and
all history consists of stories in one form or another – requires a beginning
and an end and therefore some sense of progression. Not everything in the past
need lead inexorably to the endpoints that we choose for our stories, but the
end does influence the way the story is told. The tension between explaining
how the end came about and maintaining a sense of the choices being made along
the way is one of the most difficult to negotiate when writing history. The
story is not exciting if there is no sense of choice, but the story makes no
sense if there is no logic to the choices. We still need grand narratives,
therefore, though they need not be the story of progress. Thinking about what
those narratives should be is one of the undertakings that makes history as a
field so exhilarating.
New vistas are constantly emerging. As media have become more
omnipresent in our lives, historians have begun to pay more heed to the role of
visual representations of all kinds. History as a field has been defined by its
relationship to textual documents, and this focus will not disappear, but other
ways of delivering information are now being considered, too. In societies
without universal literacy, which means all societies before the end of the
1800s, visual forms played a major role: monuments, processions and parades,
reliquaries, and woodcuts spoke more directly to ordinary people than did
tracts, treatises, or official documents. Similarly, the advent of the digital
world is prompting new approaches. Historians now have access to massive
databases of all kinds that can be searched in seconds, and the number of them
will only increase. Scholars have to learn not only how to use them but also
how to evaluate their reliability.
The emergence of new fields such as visual and digital history reminds
us that history cannot predict the future but can benefit from the changes it
brings. Only our imaginations can predict the future, and we will not know
which predictions are right until the future becomes the present. But we can
know the past, however incompletely, and we do not need a time machine to get
there. All we need is curiosity and a willingness to learn how those before us
made sense of their worlds. Why we need to do so was explained by the Roman
politician Cicero more than 2,000 years ago. “To be ignorant of what occurred
before you were born is to remain always a child. For what is the worth of a
human life, unless it is woven into the life of our ancestors by the records of
history?”(6)
1) Deutsche Geschichte,
Lichtbildvortrag, Erster Teil: Germanische Frühkeit,
“Das Licht aus dem Norden,” ed. Reichsführer-SS, Chef
des Rasse- und Siedlungshauptamtes (Sonderheft, 1942, Bundesarchiv
Berlin-Lichterfelde/ RD/NSD 41/87, 16–17.
2) Das Blut, seine
Bedeutung, Reinerhaltung und Verbesserung, ed. vol.
1, Blut und Boden: Lichtsbildvortrag, ed Reichsführer-SS, Chef des Rasse- und Siedlungshauptamtes
(Bundesarchiv
Berlin-Lichterfelde/RD/NSD 41/87.
3) Ibid., 25. The men the book was about to show were Reichsgraf Maximilian von Spee and Horst Wessel, both of
whom “incarnated the German essence” and were “combatants for the Nordic blood
and carriers of its spirit, linked by blood to the modern German man.”
4) Bain Attwood, Telling the Truth About Aboriginal History (Crows Nest, New South Wales: Allen & Unwin, 2005)
5) Ben Schmidt, “What Years Do Historians Write About?” (Sapping
Attention, May 9, 2013). Available at:
http://sappingattention.blogspot.com/2013/05/what-years-do-historians-write-about.html
6) Peter G. Bietenholz, Historia, and Fabula:
Myths and Legends in Historical Thought from Antiquity to the Modern Age
(Leiden: Brill, 1994), p. 57.
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