Meet the historians who treat mankind as the passive
voyeur of the passing of time
By FRANK FUREDI
Debates about history, especially politicised debates, can give us striking insights into the prevailing cultural view of the human condition. Such debates send us signals - about what should be the focus of our loyalty and solidarity; about what role we think people play in the making of history; and most importantly of all about the legacy of humanity’s historical experiences, and what impact that legacy might have on the future.
By FRANK FUREDI
Debates about history, especially politicised debates, can give us striking insights into the prevailing cultural view of the human condition. Such debates send us signals - about what should be the focus of our loyalty and solidarity; about what role we think people play in the making of history; and most importantly of all about the legacy of humanity’s historical experiences, and what impact that legacy might have on the future.
Consider today’s constant calls to abolish the
national focus of history in school curriculums in Western societies. The
criticism of so-called nationalist history-teaching reflects an inability to
give meaning to what were, until recently, taken-for-granted loyalties and
shared assumptions. The vociferous campaign against the British Tory
government’s attempt to reintroduce the ‘story of a nation’ into
history-teaching was a success because not even the defenders of such teaching
believed in it, never mind its opponents. Even someone like Richard Evans, who
sports the title of regius professor of history at the University of Cambridge,
now feels so estranged from the ancient traditions of his subject area that he
can celebrate the new, non-nationalist history curriculum on the basis that ‘it
recognises that children are not empty vessels to be filled with patriotic
myths’.
Evans went on to argue that ‘history isn’t a
mythmaking discipline, it’s a myth-busting discipline, and it needs to be
taught as such in our schools’. Of course, busting myths is an honourable
enterprise. But when it becomes the central purpose of a discipline, then the
integrity of that discipline is compromised. Moreover, turning myth-busting
into a standalone ideal - like its companion metaphor of ‘deconstruction’ -
inevitably encourages uncritical criticism and cynicism. Certainly before
children are let loose on the field of myth-busting, they would benefit from some
familiarity with, and understanding of, the myths they are about to take apart.
Myth-busters are very selective about what kind of
history they target. So whereas national history is denounced as ideological,
other forms of history are offered a free pass. Evans wants British schools to
put greater emphasis on European history rather than national history. His
expansion of the scale of study is relatively modest in comparison with the
current trend in history circles, which seeks continually to magnify history’s
focus. There are frequent calls these days for global history, cosmopolitan
history, Big History. As the Harvard professor David Armitage has argued,
‘Across the historical profession, the telescope rather than the microscope is
increasingly the preferred instrument of examination’.
The proponents of the teaching of Big History claim to
be driven by humanist sentiments. One, David Christian, says Big History offers
a story that transcends the nation state and covers humanity as whole. He says
that in his history courses, for example, you will ‘encounter humans not as
Americans or Germans or Russians or Nigerians but as members of a single,
genetically homogeneous, species, Homo
sapiens’. You won’t only encounter humanity, in fact; Christian is proud of
the fact that on his Big History course the species Homo sapiens is not even mentioned until halfway
through. Is this really humanist? It looks to me more like the reduction of
humanity to a biological species, and a sign that we are becoming increasingly
estranged from ideas of civilisation, culture and community.













