This is a transcript of my first piece for the Pod Delusion podcast, back in May last year.
________
Right then class, settle down please.
Now,
at the risk of making history unacceptably “relevant” and
“accessible” to you all, I'd like to start off this session with
a short creative exercise.
If
you could travel back to any point in human history, to answer one
question, when would you go and what would you want to find out?
Personally, I'm as obsessed with the Tudors as the BBC seems to be,
so I'd use it to discover what Queen Elizabeth I was really like and,
in particular, ask what she thought of the possibility of using
artificial insemination to produce future heirs to the throne. But I
wouldn't - in fact couldn't - use it to complete my PhD in history
any quicker. Not just because I work on Nazi Germany, and the risk
assessment form for that trip would take months to complete.
There
are many straightforward questions that we could answer with a time
machine. We could find out for sure who or what killed the princes in
the tower. With some very careful positioning we could establish if
there really was a female Pope. We could park it on the grassy knoll
and learn very little indeed about the assassination of President
Kennedy. These questions are intriguing and engaging but they are
not the sort of concerns that are central to academic history.
Establishing “what really happened” is only a tiny part of what
historical research is about. What really motivates the discipline is
why things happened, and what effects this had. The gathering of
facts can only take us so far in this. The real work lies in the
interpretation of source material, and in writing this up as a
coherent account which people can actually use.
When
it comes to those really big events that every schoolchild (and all
of you) should know about – the French Revolution, for example –
sending a historian to observe things as they unfold would not
produce a definitive, completely accurate history. One person can
only do so much and what particular aspects they recorded would
depend on who we sent back and what they thought was most important.
The result would be just one more biased eyewitness account; more
useful for learning about the historian's own mindset and priorities
than those of eighteenth-century French citizens.
What
really drives history are factors that can't easily
be observed from the ground, and only emerge with hindsight: tensions
between different groups in society, the ways that people measure
success in their lives, generational conflict, the extent to which
people trust authority; all of these have an impact on events,
arguably more so that the “great men of history”. This,
incidentally, is why I wouldn't use my turn at time travel to kill
Hitler, or even send a robot assassin after his mum; you can pull
down a lightning rod but it won't make the storm go away.
So
maybe my future career as a historian is more under threat from
time-travelling social scientists?
I'm
still not worried, and not for boring, practical reasons such as the
fact that time travel is, sadly, impossible. No, the final, crucial
task of the historian, the task which is currently making me tear my
hair out and discover new, innovative methods of procrastination, is
the task of actually writing a history. Take something we have a lot
of information on: the riots that took place in London in 2011. We
could, from CCTV, camera phone and news footage, figure out pretty
much the exact movements of everyone involved, and we could also interview
them later about their motives. But how would we synthesise this mass
of data into a manageable, useful account? Which parts are open to
other interpretations? What's the actual story here? Does it lie in
the events themselves or in people's reactions to them? What bearing
might this have on future events, and what does all of this tell us
about our society and how much or little we've progressed since the
“olden days”? This is what the process of history research and
writing is all about, and, as I've hopefully made clear, every
resulting work of history has its own omissions and biases, and opens
up a world of questions for the next wave of researchers.
And
so class, that brings me on to your homework. If you could put
together a time capsule to tell people hundreds of years from now
about the London riots, what would you include? Would you go for
camera footage, rolling news reports, police reports, witness
accounts, or testimony from the resulting trials? Would you consider
the reactions of people not directly involved to be at all relevant?
Would you include newspaper opinion pieces from the weeks afterwards,
or maybe from the one year anniversary? Would you go back to before
August 2011 and include information on social tensions, race
relations or maybe on modern consumer culture? Think through this
properly and you'll have a better understanding of what's involved in
the research and writing of good history than many of those
responsible for the survival of the discipline.
Class
dismissed.
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