"Respectable" or Not? The Ongoing War Over Counterfactual History
As I continue to work on my new book on
the history of the Fourth Reich (a project that, incidentally, employs
abundant counterfactual reasoning), I’ve tried to stay up to date about the latest
goings-on in the world of “what if?”
Two recent essays struck me as simultaneously
discouraging and heartening with regard to the future of counterfactual history.
On the
one hand, a recent short essay in The
Guardian by Nicholas Lezard entitled, “Altered
Pasts Review: Counterfactual Histories Should Be Fun,” gets no objection
from me in declaring that “We love a good
counterfactual, don’t we? They are a bit of fun, in which we tweak history’s
nose by imagining what might have been.”
However, Lezard then proceeds to lose me entirely by endorsing many of Richard
Evans’s ill-grounded objections to “what if” thinking and by ultimately concluding
– in overly sweeping fashion – that “counterfactuality is not a respectable
historical tool, so don’t treat it like one.”
I don’t know what Lezard’s
definition of “respectable” is, but I would think that we were past the point
where such baseless accusations continue to be recycled. I would like to think that we’ve
arrived at a point where we don’t need to rehash all the reasons why counterfactual reasoning is not only
essential to historical analysis, but has
always been a tool (however unacknowledged) used by the leading figures in
the western historical profession.
(For what it’s worth, I plan on meticulously documenting this fact in a
future study of the field).
On the more positive side of
the ledger: Niall Ferguson and
Graham Allison have recently received a decent bit of attention for their
Applied History manifesto, “Establish a White
House Council of Historical Advisers Now,” which was recently published in abridged
form in The Atlantic.
Anyone interested in
counterfactual history will be thrilled to see it endorsed by Ferguson and
Allison as one of the key ways in which historians can contribute to policy
making decisions.
They write as follows:
“A
fifth type of assignment where applied historians could be helpful in the
current policymaking process: by posing and answering “What if?” questions
designed to analyze past decision-making. Addressing such questions requires
disciplined counterfactual reasoning. While many mainstream historians have
voiced reservations about counterfactual analysis, this method lies at the
heart of every historical account. As one of us argued in Virtual History, “it is a logical necessity
when asking questions about causation to pose ‘but for’ questions, and to try
to imagine what would have happened if our supposed cause had been absent.”
“When
assessing the relative importance of various possible causes of WWI, historians
make judgments about what would have happened in the absence of these factors.
Methods developed for doing this systematically can be employed by applied
historians in considering current policy choices. Thus, President Obama’s
successor could ask his Council of Historical Advisers to replay 2013. What if
Obama had opted to enforce the “red line” in Syria against the Assad regime,
rather than delegating the removal of chemical weapons from Syria to the
Russian government? And what if, in January 2014, the EU had not offered
Ukraine an economic association agreement that was clearly designed to pull
Kiev westwards? Would President Putin have intervened militarily in Ukraine?”
People may differ on the value of historians
diving into political work, as Jeremy Adelman has recently written in a new piece in The
Chronicle of Higher Education. But
whatever one’s views on the subject, it is significant that the manifesto
elevates historical “what ifs?” to such prominence.
At the very least, it refutes Lezard’s erroneous
claim that they are anything but “respectable.”
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