The Training of the Historian

In one sense historians are always self-trained. In some ways people trained in the field may be at a disadvantage, because they may inherit their teacher's prejudices. In other ways they may be more prepared to recognize certain pitfalls. Everyone's special experience prepares them to do certain work that may not be possible to others. Probably the most valuable thing I learnt in my training was what my professors thought about their professors, and how to use various sources. This is similar in some ways to what orchestra conductors learn in school, which is the "traditions" that may be esoteric to the rest of us.

On the other hand they may simply be passing on prejudices that developed long after the composer wrote: A novice may have an inspired moment, and discover the "right" tempo of a classical piece, and the big name conductor may be wrong. The real problem of the autodidact is that they usually spent a huge amount of time learning things that those properly trained got right away. Because they spent so much time learning it they give it a disproportionate value: They may think they have found something of supreme value (which indeed it may be), and not realize that the professionals take it for granted, like a mason does his trowel and hammer — where would we be without them, but still they are tools.

The historian's tools are his skills of critically evaluating and presenting the conclusions he draws from historical evidence. There are many methods he uses, and no historian is equally skilled in all of them. If the historian is to write fact rather than fiction he must rely on what his evidence tells him, after he has squeezed it for all it is worth. The writer of fact is much more limited in what he (or she) can say than the fiction writer. Great copy is always seductive. Of course if you can present it as true that makes it even more interesting. I am not sure we should be so hard on these writers. We should be, or continually become, more astute readers and critics.

When people who work in a certain field of historical research read a book on their subject, they are not starting from scratch. I have had people tell me how wonderful a certain book is, and it was informative to them, because it was all new to them. I, however, might recognize the same tired old arguments, the same misinformation, the appropriating great thoughts from other writers, and say "This is a beginners book, and perhaps not even very good for that, since there will be a lot for the reader to unlearn if they pursue the subject."

When I find a book that claims to have new documents hitherto unknown, and appears to be totally rewriting the history of a certain period, on the first reading, I check the documentation; or, if not in a position to do so, remark (at least to myself) that if such a document exists it is certainly strange that I should have missed it. You can be sure that when I search and try to track it, and when it does not turn up (which is what all those footnotes are for), then I will eventually arrive at the conclusion that the author is perpetuating a hoax.

In the game of history (and it may be likened to a game in certain respects) all the cards must be laid on the table. It breaks the rules to cite documents that no one else has access to. If you have them you must show them: you cannot expect people to simply accept what you say. That is because history is a science, and the data must be universally accessible. Whether people draw the same conclusions based on them, which is their interpretation, is an entirely different matter.

I wrote a thesis on the philosophy of history and I am very interested in how we know what we know. When we look at huge volumes of documents transcribed many years ago we often think they do not come up to our standards; but we might remind ourselves that it is only because of such books that we even have standards. We have a long way to go.

I like to be critical rather than judgmental when it comes to the practices of earlier historical writers. Some practices are considered reprehensible: most people think fabrication of documents falls in this category. I tend to think that even the fabrication will work itself out, and it adds its own layer of history. We would be lacking something of significance without the "Donation of Constantine", or the Kensington Runestone, or the Horn Papers, or those inviting maps showing Jonathan Swift's silver mines? In one sense they are the very stuff of history. Someone is going to come along and have fun with the forgeries by figuring out what really happened. It is always worth knowing what people believed that is false, and it is of interest and value to discover what some people thought was worth deluding others about. If you want to do a little discover in this regard I suggest the "Vinland Map". I won't tell you what I think, yet. You decide. It will be good self-training.

Nec ossa solum, sed etiam sanguinem.