Historical Moments v. You're History

         The recent inauguration ceremony of Barack Obama has encouraged many pundits, waxing romantic in the warm glow of the moment, to declare that "this-or-that" aspect of this event constitutes an "historic moment." I have heard more than one commentator declare that, "this moment will be studied by historians for many years to come." Television networks, never given much to tradition or history in any other respect, eagerly seek out and listen to "presidential historians" (a type of historian I had never heard of until Michael Beschloss and PBS so anointed him to that position; the breed seems to be multiplying, however). Now every self-respecting pundit panel has a presidential historian to offer comparisons of yester-year with today, each trying to outdo the other in re-telling amusing anecdotes about Andrew Johnson's drunkenness or William Henry Harrison's short one-month presidency.

At the other end of the spectrum, and generally in that long, long pause between the brief stirring moments of eventful history, in which no saleable public celebrations are swelling the coffers of corporate media, "history" is employed to mean something different. It is used as a synonym for the words "unimportant, insignificant, irrelevant, gone and forgotten or at least something or someone worthy of being forgotten." "You are history" is as bad as it gets in terms of being labelled. Sports announcers love it. With one team losing beyond reprieve, "they're history" is the favorite chant of sports analysts and fan alike. A colleague of mine and I used to watch TV baseball games together and roar with laughter every time "they're history" or "its only academic" was used to sluff-off the irrelevant, forgotten, or the end. Of course, popular culture cares little for reflection but a lot for "attitude," so "they're/you're history" provides the occasion to "dis" whatever and whomever is at hand that needs quick dismissal.

     [Other disciplines have similar problems, I guess, or at least that's "my personal philosophy." Certainly everyone from linguists to anthropologists to mathematicians and physicists suffer from being misunderstood in some grand way. So, this reflection on history is not special in some respects. But someone else must speak for them.]

So, what's it to be:  meaningless void or a dusty album of precious keepsakes. Neither really. Even the puerile pundits and the prince[sses] of pop culture know they are not talking about "real" history. Yet you could ask ten people on the street or in the ivory tower what history really is, and you'd get ten answers. Few seem to know or care to speculate on the "uses of history" (as it used to be put when historians and others pondered the value of history -- not a large business these days). A few years ago I had a science colleague come to me worrying over a speech he had to give to a large academic convention. In writing his talk, he had apparently painted himself into a corner where he had to justify history as a useful handmaiden to knowledge. And, quite frankly, he couldn't think of a single useful thing regarding knowledge of the past (if I came to any of my science colleagues and asked them if there was any use to science, I think I would be considered "committable"). I told him that history establishes the contexts of the present, and it serves (for his case) a useful caution against forging ahead in policies and programs before considering the human past in relationship to the cause. He was pleased that history might perform the task of dull theatre back-drop and under-appreciated security guard. I really didn't have the heart (nor the energy) to go on further with him.

     Frankly, most of my academic friends think this:  history provides facts and descriptive material that can be used by better minds than those possessed by historians to analyze society, politics, government, and culture. There is great confusion among them in defining the differences between archivists/librarians and historians. Aren't they the same? Aren't they all engaged in some antiquarian exercise, operating on the hope that some of the scraps they assemble will have useful meaning in the future? The other problem comes with "historical method." I once was asked a question regarding the methods of history (tossed out by the president of our university no less -- a scientist), and I flubbed around before seizing on some insane answer (the trauma was too great -- I forget what I said).

     Lately, I just say to everyone -- "There is no legitimate discipline called history." On the one hand, it is completely capacious and inclusive, it is everything except the fleeting moment and our reckless imaginations about the future. On the other, it is a discipline without topic or focus. Is it about government and politics (it was thought to be until fifty years ago)? Is it about society and culture, and if so, how is it different from sociology or anthropology? It has no methodologies, other than the ones borrowed or shared with other "disciplines." It might be rigorously scientific; it might be as intuitive as poetry. Now all I care about is a good question, one relevant to the present and foreseeable future, one that can be informed by the past, and how skillfully and convincingly an historian fields that question.  And, as for method, well, all historians, whether they admit it or not, damned well scramble to put together each and every method at their disposal, hoping that that rare commodity -- common sense -- will be their general guide.