"How about I Told You So, You F*cking Fools?"

From a wonderful (and unfortunately hilarious) article, Fools for Communism: still apologists after all these years:

The end of the Cold War has produced many such numbing silences. The speed with which the Soviet empire imploded and the economic ruin and popular revulsion that were revealed have made it clear that baby boomer intellectuals and journalists, viewing the world through the distorted lens of Vietnam, overwhelmingly got it wrong. Peasants ate less and were slaughtered more on the other side of the Iron Curtain; the jails were fuller; the KGB's list was a lot longer and a lot deadlier than Joe McCarthy's. A team of French historians calculated the worldwide death toll of communism during the 20th century at more than 93 million. When Hoover Institution historian Robert Conquest used newly available data from the Soviet Union to update The Great Terror, his account of Stalin's murderous purges of the 1930s, his publishers asked for a new title. "How about I Told You So, You Fucking Fools?" Conquest suggested.

And I'm happy to see nut-job Eric Foner coming in for his fair share of abuse:

Columbia's Eric Foner, a past president of both the American Historical Association and the Organization of American Historians, staking his bid as founder of what might be called the Smiley-Face School of History, denounces "the obsessive need to fill in the blank pages in the history of the Soviet era." He wasn't talking about pesky American historians using the Freedom of Information Act to ferret out new horror stories about J. Edgar Hoover but about a Moscow exhibition on the Soviet gulag. What possible good could come of learning the details of that?

Read on to the end. There's a response by Foner and a reply by the author.

The image is from the notebooks of Eufrosinia Kersnovskaya.

H/T Instapundit.

Narrative vs. Analytical History

The following quote comes from Michael J.C. Taylor's H-Net review of Mark A. Graber's book, Dred Scott and the Problem of Constitutional Evil (which I haven't read yet):

"What this author should consider--as should all historians whether of a scholarly or popular bent--is the ultimate value of history if but a very few ever read it. The whole point of writing of the past is to convey its importance and relevance to an audience that will digest the lessons it has to offer. If the work is to be savored by but a few scholars, the whole purpose of writing history is futile--it is akin to preaching to the faithful. An idea expressed in but a few eloquent words can prove timeless, while the most intelligent effusion of expression will be forgotten by the time it is uttered."

Although the reviewer's immediate point seems to be a narrow one (he is addressing Professor Graber's use of a writing style allegedly so opaque as to discourage all but the most intrepid specialist), the quote also raises a broader issue somewhat akin to the old question about trees falling in uninhabited forests. In that broader context, I'm not at all sure I agree with the proposition. Is "[t]he whole point of writing of the past" really "to convey its importance and relevance"? Or is it, simply, to get the facts and inferences right, popular or not?

Perhaps the answer lies somewhere in the middle, in the sense that there should be room for both species of historical writing, both more broadly read narrative histories of the sort written by Doris Kearns Goodwin or James McPherson, as well as more detailed analytical monographs destined to be read only by scholars and specialists.

Popular histories will not always absorb the discoveries of specialists, but I do assume that the most significant changes will eventually come to be reflected in more general works. I've read several "popular" biographies of George Washington recently, and both went out of their way to point out a number of warts to go with the virtues. And did you know that he didn't chop down that cherry tree after all?

Popular History Vs. "Real" History?

Dmitri Rotov at Civil War Bookshelf has a post discussing James McPherson-type narrative history (which he seems to deny is “history”) versus “the discipline of history.” Although it’s a thoughtful post (and although he’s kind enough to quote me – thanks!), I must say I still don’t get it. To explain why, let me start by quoting from Dmitri’s post:

“On the contrary, the overwhelming experience of history begins at some point after the facts, dates, and (yes) storyline have been mastered. Fail to master those, and you cannot begin to engage this as hobby or discipline. The reading (and listening) experience called history rests on combinations of details that never stop surprising, delighting and challenging.

“History taught as story cuts out the legs from under those who might eventually learn to love history - perhaps even study or write history - and converts them into readers of nonfiction genre narrative, usually second rate literature with appallingly low history content.

“The question is how many of those nonfiction readers cross over to discerning history readers: direct mail specialists call this the "conversion rate" and I personally think it is miniscule. . ..

“Well, it is not history except that it uses historical materials more or less the way a novelist would use them. It is genre literature written to entertain - not in the way a crossword puzzle does, or even a detective novel, but in the same way a Western works - black hats, white hats, a struggle, a showdown, the end.

“I am selfishly concerned that a generation of people with no historical sensibility to whom McPherson and Goodwin have been portrayed as "historians" is making my life miserable. If McPherson and Goodwin were represented to newbies as the starting point in a long journey, then I should keep quiet. But if held up as representatives of this discipline called history they merely encourage newbies to read more authors like DKG and McP. They become a gateway to more Goodwinism, not to history.”

History as Narrative

To begin with, I just don’t understand why narrative history isn’t “history.” Herodotus called his work “Historiai” – “Inquiries” – because he was for the most part recording tales told to him by locals in response to questions he asked in the course of his travels. What he produced, naturally enough, was a series of dramatic narrative stories.

Even if you do not consider Herodotus a true “historian,” no one doubts that his successor, Thucydides, was. And yet he, too, recounts the history of the Peloponnesian War in chronological terms, using techniques (such as reconstructed speeches and dialogs) that would be condemned if used today, to create “you are there” excitement.

And so on with all the great Roman historians, such as Livy (whose histories are called “The Annals” because they tell their story in chronological format), Sallust and the superb Tacitus. All tell riveting stories in largely narrative and chronological format. All intentionally strive to relate their stories in ways and using techniques designed to heighten dramatic tension and get their readers to “experience” the past. And talk about black hats and white hats! Livy described his task as “putting on record the story of the greatest nation in the world.” Nobody reading the Annals is going to mistake Tarquin the Proud for one of the good guys.

Is Narrative History Dangerous?

Putting aside whether narrative history is “history,” I am also confused by the sense I get from Dmitri’s post that narrative tales of the past are somehow dangerous (“convert[ing people] into readers of nonfiction genre narrative, usually second rate literature with appallingly low history content”). I have no idea what the empirical evidence shows (or even whether there is any), but it certainly is at odds with common sense and, in my case, personal experience.

As even Dmitri concedes, you can’t begin to understand or appreciate “real” history (as he understands it) until you master “the facts, dates, and (yes) storyline.” But how do you do that? By reading your Livy – or your James McPherson. You may decide that Hannibal crossing the Alps, or Lee invading Pennsylvania, is not your cup of tea, and that you want to play video games instead. But you presumably learned something and know more now than you did before you read them. Can that possibly be a bad thing? And if those stories don’t grab you, you’re never going be reading monographs anyway.

And how else does one become interested in history? I’d guess that most classical history professors were inspired by “simplistic” accounts of Thermopylae, or Horatio at the Bridge, or the Rape of Sabine Women, or Hannibal Crossing the Alps.

I have not reviewed a list of the histories in the libraries of, say, John Adams or Thomas Jefferson, but I’d guess their libraries were heavy with narrative histories, including narrative histories that in some respects were wildly inaccurate – far more inaccurate than anything in McPherson. (I think it’s widely known that Jefferson’s views of early English history, for example, were downright bizarre; I assume he got those views from somewhere.) And yet they seem to have turned out all right, because, I suspect, the histories they read inspired them, even though those histories may not have satisfied Dmitri’s rigorous standards.

Those ancient stories inspired me (I am not a historian, but I wound up majoring in Classics in college). Barbara Tuchman’s dramatic narrative The Guns of August inspired me to read a good deal of World War I history. And McPherson and Ken Burns were the starting points of Civil War reading. They didn't do me many any harm.

Finally, I’m not aware that “popular” historians such as McPherson explicitly or implicitly tell their readers that they should not or need not read more on the periods or topics they cover. I presume most readers of McPherson stop with him, feeling they’ve gotten a sufficient feel. But is it fair to blame McPherson for that?

I don’t mean to give Dmitri too hard a time. When you’ve read deeply in a particular area and realize how complex it is, it can be frustrating to see more broad-brush accounts that, in your view, miss subtle but key points that have changed your analysis or perspective. But is that a legitimate reason to condemn narrative histories that are sufficiently dramatic and entertaining to lure tens of thousands of readers, who will surely learn more from the experience than they would reading a romance novel or playing video games?

A Map Ain't A Map

As mentioned in an earlier post, Jimmie Carter appears to have used copies of maps without permission, in apparent violation of the copyright laws. That seems to be the least of Carter's sins, but the copyright issue is an interesting one -- as are some of the reactions to the accusation.

One approach taken by those seeking to minimize Carter's culpability is to suggest that maps are only minimally copyrightable. Hiram Hover, for example, posts the following:

"Maybe there’s a case of copyright infringement here, maybe not. As Ralph Luker points out, maps of the same place do tend to bear some resemblance to one another—surprising as that may be to the folks over at NRO, who have done so much to flog the accusation. In any event, a cribbed map is hardly what comes to most people’s minds when they hear the charge of 'plagiarism.'"

This is excuse is particularly silly coming from a purported historian. A historian should know, if anyone should, that maps are not fungible. Good or poor maps can make all the difference when trying to following a campaign, for example. Even in a social history, the absence of good maps can be extremely frustrating.

On the legal side, it's worth noting that the very first copyright act enacted in this country -- the Copyright Act of 1790 -- specifically included maps within its scope. Indeed, "map" was the very first item mentioned in the title of the Act: "An Act for the Encouragement of Learning, by securing the Copies of Maps, Charts and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such Copies, during the Times therein mentioned." (Emphasis added) "Map" is likewise the first protected species of work listed in the text of the Act:

"Section 1. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That from and after the passing of this act, the author and authors of any map, chart, book or books already printed within these United States . . . shall have the sole right and liberty of printing, reprinting, publishing and vending such map, chart, book or books, for the term of fourteen years from the recording the title thereof in the clerk’s office, as is herein after directed . . .." (Emphasis added.)

I guess the First Congress was populated by denizens of NRO. It's a massive right-wing conspiracy!

Plagiarism Plus

Over at Civil War Bookshelf, Dmitri Rotov notes that former president Carter has been accused of plagiarizing maps. I was going to post a brief item simply noting how important maps can be -- and how frustrating bad or insufficient maps can be. The number one complaint about Civil War books has got to be the dearth of maps. I frequently go to the internet (or other books) to locate usable maps to accompany my Civil War reading.

Then, doing a check to see what the current status of the dispute is, I ran across a post that explains that the plagiarism charge is the least of president Carter's problems. The post provides copies of the maps in question, so you can judge the plagiarism allegation for yourself. It also provides a simple and readily understandable explantation documenting the far more serious charge: the maps are copied but mislabeled in a way that appears designed to reinforce inaccurate and misleading statements in the accompanying text. I urge anyone intested in this issue to read Rick Richman's post at Jewish Current Issues, entitled "Carter's Maps: Worse than Plagiarism."

Historians Acting Well

I don't have any further reports of Historians Acting Badly, so I thought I'd mention the latest example of an Historian Acting Well.

Victor Davis Hanson's latest post at his blog Works and Days is yet another instance of his careful use of historical background to illuminate the parameters of present day issues.

Related Posts:

Historians Acting Badly I

Historians Acting Badly II

Popular History or No History?

Over at The History Enthusiast, Ph.D. candidate Kristen recounts the abysmal ignorance or confusion of even one of her brighter students:

"I had another student who confused most of the facts presented in her paper. For instance, she thought that Northerners wanted Texas to become a slave state because this would trick Southerners into gaining control over Congress, allowing Southerners to defeat Lincoln in the presidential election of 1844. No, those are not typos. Needless to say, my response in the margin was a rather lengthy one. I was really surprised by her paper because she had talked to me about it after class and seemed to be heading in the right direction. My teaching mentor has been really pleased with my lecture style, and our textbook is very clear and concise, so I'm not sure how she got so mixed up. Hopefully, for her sake, her final essay (due Tuesday) stays more on track."

Yikes! I am not, and have never been, a teacher, but this certainly is in accord with anecdotal evidence I have inadvertently collected -- the bright and well-educated teenager who looked at me blankly when I asked her when World War I took place, for example. (She was hazy about World War II as well.)

Incidents such as these make it hard for me to get too excited about issues that make some people upset or angry. Kevin Levin at Civil War Memory, for example, is frequently disappointed that many Civil War buffs regard the Civil War as entertainment or a celebration of the Lost Cause rather than contemplate its racial implications. Dmiti Rotov at Civil War Bookshelf seems to be outraged that Doris Kearns Goodwin gets prizes because she's a popularizer (and notwithstanding some ethical issues).

As for me, I'm delighted when I see that someone under the age of, say, thirty, knows anything about American history. If Doris Kearns Goodwin inspires 100 or 1,000 people to become interested in the Civil War or Lincoln, I say she can have her award. Ditto for James McPherson and Ken Burns. In an age when teenagers have never heard of World War I and aren't sure when World War II took place (much less between whom), I say that popular history is better than no history at all.

Historians Acting Badly II

Perhaps this sheds some light. In an essay about 9/11, published less than a month after the event, Eric Foner began as follows:

"I'm not sure which is more frightening: the horror that engulfed New York City or the apocalyptic rhetoric emanating daily from the White House. 'We will rid the world of evil-doers,' President Bush announces as he embarks on an open-ended 'crusade' (does he understand the historical freight this word carries?) against people who 'hate us because we are free'. This Manichean vision of the world, so deeply rooted in our Puritan past and evangelical present, is daily reinforced by the media as an emblem of national resolve."

Any questions?

Historians Acting Badly

Eric Foner has now joined Sean Wilentz in labelling President Bush (II) as the worst president in history. The purpose of this entry is not to explain why both articles are ludicrous -- if you don't know that, you're in the wrong place. Instead, I want to consider what they suggest about history and historical reasoning.

In his thoughtful post about the Foner article at the Alincoln blog, Brian Dirck expressed concern that it was inappropriate for historians to write such articles:

"As a practicing, professional historian, however, I have no business using my professional status to turn that perspective into an historical judgment concerning Bush's relative worth compared to other presidents in American history. To do so is impossible.

"Worse, I think it risks turning our profession into nothing more than a witting tool for the political exigencies of the moment. I know there are those in my profession who feel historians can and should use their training in our craft to involve themselves actively in the political controversies of our day. I respect that point of view, but I'm afraid I'd have to disagree. Professional historians are far more valuable as dispassionate, sober analysts who can use the tools of our craft to promote balanced, careful assessments of both the present and the past."

As I commented there, I have a related, but somewhat different, concern. I wonder whether articles such as these demonstrate that the reasons traditionally given for studying history are meaningless propaganda spread by our high school history teachers.

I am not a professional historian, practicing or otherwise. I read history simply because I find it interesting and often amazing. It's simply incredible to me that the Greeks defeated the Persians, that Socrates lived (but never wrote a word), that the conception of the role of the federal government 150 years ago bears no relationship to our current understanding of it, or that men charged from the trenches in World War I. You couldn't, as they say, make this stuff up. I read history looking for answers sometimes, but they are usually answers to historical questions. How did the Russians and Chinese come to be ruled by monsterous regimes? Why did white southern yeomen enthusiastically back secession?

But most historians, I think -- and certainly my high school history teacher -- would claim far more for the study of history, summed up in the adage, "Those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it." By studying history, the reasoning goes, one can learn lessons that can be applied to the present. I suppose the tendency to generalize is instinctive among humans, and I am guilty as everyone else, although I recognize that others may disagree with the conclusions I draw.

The most unfortunate corrolary of the Foner and Wilentz articles, I think, is that they tend to discredit the study of history and the generally accepted reason for studying history. If two such respected members of the academy can produce such silly partisan hit pieces cloaked in the objectivity of historically-based reasoning, does that not suggest that historically-based reasoning is an utter fraud -- something so malleable and manipulable that it is not worth the paper it is written on? The good professors seem bent on proving that the field of study to which they have devoted their lives wears no clothes.

Although my expectations are usually disappointed -- I do not recall historians condemning Professor Wilentz after his performance in The Rolling Stone -- I am hoping that Professor Foner's contribution may yet rouse historians (in addition to Professor Dirck) to express concern about the damage that such amateurish partisanship does to the study of history. I'm particularly hoping that historians such Don Kagan and Victor Davis Hanson will make their presence felt.

I'm going to watch for developments and will report any I encounter.