Two stories caught my eye last week, both thanks to Ralph Luker. They concern the practice of history, though in disparate ways. The first is about how Paul Krugman, my favorite economist, came to the study of economics:
With Hari Seldon in mind, Krugman went to Yale, in 1970, intending to study history, but he felt that history was too much about what and not enough about why, so he ended up in economics. Economics, he found, examined the same infinitely complicated social reality that history did but, instead of elucidating its complexity, looked for patterns and rules that made the complexity seem simple. Why did some societies have serfs or slaves and others not? You could talk about culture and national character and climate and changing mores and heroes and revolts and the history of agriculture and the Romans and the Christians and the Middle Ages and all the rest of it; or, like Krugman’s economics teacher Evsey Domar, you could argue that if peasants are barely surviving there’s no point in enslaving them, because they have nothing to give you, but if good new land becomes available it makes sense to enslave them, because you can skim off the difference between their output and what it takes to keep them alive. Suddenly, a simple story made sense of a huge and baffling swath of reality, and Krugman found that enormously satisfying.
I think Historiann’s comment here is the best one: “You know that old joke about economists: ‘Sure it works in reality, but will it work in theory?‘”
The second was Jon Wiener’s article in the Nation about tobacco companies using historians as expert witnesses:
In these cases, history has become a key component in the tobacco attorneys’ defense strategy. In the past, when smokers with cancer sued for damages, the companies said they shouldn’t have to pay, because there was a “scientific controversy” about whether smoking causes cancer. But in recent years they have given up that argument and now argue something like the opposite: “everybody knew” smoking causes cancer. So if you got cancer from smoking, it’s your own fault.
To persuade juries, they need historians–experts who, for example, can testify that newspapers in the plaintiff’s hometown ran articles about the health hazards of smoking in the 1940s or ’50s or ’60s, when he or she started. So Big Tobacco has been spending a lot of money hiring historians…
The historian who particularly caught my eye was Stephen Ambrose, a famous military historian best known for Band of Brothers, as well as some serious methodological issues. In a particular irony, Ambrose died in 2003 of lung cancer caused by smoking.
But my point is not quite to pick on Krugman or Ambrose. It is, rather, to note how badly the historical ethos sometimes relates to the larger society.* If I had quickly to sum up that ethos, it would be as “Yes, but….” That is, historians go about constructing the past, aware always of that process of construction, and willing to consider alternate designs. Yes, this is how I am interpreting this history now, but I am aware that there are other interpretations and other evidence. Despite George W. Bush, all history is (or should be) revisionist. All history should be ready to be rewritten. The effect of that “Yes, but…” is to make scholarly history complex and at the same time weaselly, uncertain and always whirling around to catch the interpretation sneaking up from behind.
The complexity that this creates is, of course, at odds both with the simplicity that Paul Krugman craved and that economics provided. It is at odds, as well, with the adversarial nature of the court room, in which opposing counsels must argue, without doubt or allowance for ambiguity, their side of the case. It is why Krugman was right to leave history behind, for that complex ambivalence is at the heart of the historical project. Staying with a subject whose central tenet he found repulsive would have been difficult, at best. It is why historians like Ambrose were wrong to testify for the tobacco companies, because their testimony came in service of an argument in which the essential equivocation was stripped away.
I could argue that this is history’s great advantage: it tries to see the world of the past in all its infinite complexity, accepting that the vision of historians is dim and that the history thus created is always uncertain. Certainly, in the aftermath of the economic collapse of 2008, driven so handily by orthodox economic theories (that, like zombies, survive even after death), the simple answers of economics looks more like the simplistic answers of economics: wonderfully compelling but woefully dangerous. In the same way, the ongoing victories of the tobacco companies in lawsuits against them (in a remarkable show of bald-faced effrontery, the legal arguments of Big Tobacco have morphed smoothly from “Smoking’s not dangerous” to “There’s controversy over the danger” to “Well, everyone knew it was dangerous, so it’s the smoker’s fault.”), have made those historians who testified in service of that end look even worse. In this telling, historians would be the virtuous few, wedded to a monastic discipline that exalted the purity of inquiry.
Yes, but that subtle view of the world has essentially pushed many historians to avoid the public square, and left the writing of America’s historical memory to those not shy about discarding uncertainty. Larry Schweikart, author of A Patriot’s History of the United States (currently #5 on the Amazon best seller list) and 48 Liberal Lies About American History (#784) is long past any kind of doubt. Howard Zinn’s The People’s History of the United States
(currently #98 on the Amazon list) offers something similar. I am perhaps too cynical, as I note that Gordon Wood’s Empire of Liberty is up there on the Amazon listings, but then I spot our old friend Amity Shlaes only a few steps behind him (I won’t even mention where Glenn Beck’s book ranks in “History Bestsellers”). Historians have and will study the mythos of the American past; it might be wise if we did more to create that mythos. It would not quite be the pure discipline of the monastery, but then monasteries were much more hedonistic than the popular legend.
–
*I suspect this is true of other scholarly processes, such as the scientific method, but I’m most familiar with the history side of things.
101 comments
March 4, 2010 at 5:43 pm
Brad DeLong
May I say that both Silbey and Historiann would be better historians if they had ever bothered to read Evsey Domar (1970), “The Causes of Slavery or Serfdom: A Hypothesis,” Economic History Review 30:1 (March), pp. 18-32?
It is really a shame that they haven’t. Evsey Domar was a very smart man, and those who have read him are smarter than those who have not. His paper is very good: http://www.j-bradford-delong.net/movable_type/2003_archives/001447.html
March 4, 2010 at 5:55 pm
silbey
May I say that both Silbey and Historiann would be better historians if they had ever bothered to read Evsey Domar (1970), “The Causes of Slavery or Serfdom: A Hypothesis,” Economic History Review 30:1 (March), pp. 18-32?
You may certainly say so, if you wish. I guess that I am a better historian then, as I have, in fact, read Domar’s article.
March 4, 2010 at 6:13 pm
wren
No mention of the hijacking of history by the History Channel? How did they get to own the brand? And poison it so completely.
March 4, 2010 at 7:02 pm
David Carlton
I must say that I think the criticism Krugman’s been getting from the historisphere is a bit unfair. His work on the geography of trade, for instance, shows a fine concern for the role of such historically inflected concepts as path dependence in explaining the persistent lack of “flatness” in the economic world. There’s also his nice essay on “The Fall and Rise of Development Economics,” in which he shows a discerning appreciation for the basically historical frameworks offered by the likes of Gunnar Myrdal and Albert Hirschman–even while complaining that their work fits poorly into what economists do, and thus gets justly, if sadly, ignored by them. The big problem with historians is that we tend to see so much complexity that we lose capacity to discriminate between causes, or fail adequately to come to grips with the complex interrelations among variables–many of which are simultaneously causes and effects. Models oversimplify, inevitably–but they also clarify. And if, like Krugman, you’re fundamentally concerned with policy, having a set of tools that clarify relationships and show how changes in one variable affect others is vital. That historians shower contempt on those tools may have something to do with our sense of irrelevance.
March 4, 2010 at 7:10 pm
andrew
I haven’t read the linked article, but I suspect Krugman’s view of history has changed over the years. At least, from reading his blog and columns, as well as some other pieces here and there, he strikes me as someone who is clearly not a historian, but who has more of the kind of historical sense that historians have (or aspire to) than that anecdote from the 1970s implies.
March 4, 2010 at 7:30 pm
silbey
Models oversimplify, inevitably–but they also clarify
I’m much less sympathetic to this argument post-2008.
That historians shower contempt on those tools may have something to do with our sense of irrelevance
That’s kind of the point of the post, though I’m interested to note that the contempt may not actually be wrong.
March 4, 2010 at 8:21 pm
Vance
If the tobacco companies are using history tendentiously to defend themselves, it seems that a nimble historian could attack quite effectively, using the kind of historical account you give here — e.g., back when Mrs. Alveolus took up smoking, the scientific awareness of the danger was building, and accounts of it were available, but there was a torrent of contrary claims in currency at the same time, not least from the tobacco companies themselves.
March 5, 2010 at 12:53 am
dave
Is Brad DeLong joking, or is he really that much of a dick?
March 5, 2010 at 1:43 am
johnmccreery
The opening reminded me of a joke I was told by a marketing professor.
A marketing department was holding a conference to which they invited a famous economist, also a friend of the chair of the marketing department, to give the keynote speech.
The department chair introduced his friend by describing him as an economist, “You know, one of those people who turn random numbers into absolutely mathematical laws.”
His friend then replied, noting about his friend, “He’s in marketing….They reverse the process.”
March 5, 2010 at 1:43 am
Adventurer Historian
My first reaction was: “They can’t be talking about THAT Hari Seldon, can they be?”
I thought you were going to argue that Paul Krugman came to study economics because of science fiction!
March 5, 2010 at 3:36 am
Keir
Pretty much. It’s an odd combination of sweet and really really scary.
March 5, 2010 at 4:19 am
Walt
Krugman is the Greatest Living American.
Economists as a group are suckers for explanations from economic and technological determinism, so it’s not surprising that they collect budding Hari Seldons. That said, what’s wrong with the Domar article?
March 5, 2010 at 4:44 am
Matt
Is Brad DeLong joking, or is he really that much of a dick?
It’s pretty typical DeLong so I suspect he’s not joking.
March 5, 2010 at 7:01 am
kid bitzer
brad is very loyal to friends. perhaps to a fault.
he also reads a *hell* of a lot of history–not just economic history, but all the other kinds as well. browse through his blog for a bit, and you will be impressed by his command of history, i.e. the stuff they teach in history departments.
speaking for myself, what puzzled me about brad’s comment was this part:
“those who have read him are smarter than those who have not.”
how’s that supposed to work? is the idea that stephen hawking is dumber than the dumbest person who has read domar? or just that stephen hawking would get still smarter than he is, if he were to read domar?
or take me–i haven’t read domar, but i would read it, if it would make me smarter (i’m desperate). on the other hand, if my current failure to have read him means that i am now irrevocably in the stupider category, then i lose that incentive for reading him.
March 5, 2010 at 7:15 am
Malaclypse
I thought you were going to argue that Paul Krugman came to study economics because of science fiction!
Krugman has long said exactly that: http://www.businessinsider.com/paul-krugman-became-an-economist-to-be-like-his-science-fiction-hero-2010-2
March 5, 2010 at 7:16 am
Barbara O' Brien
Greetings,
I just have a quick question for you but couldn’t find an email so had to resort to this. I am a progressive blogger and the owner of the mahablog. Please email me back at barbaraobrien@maacenter.org when you get a chance. Thanks.
Barbara
March 5, 2010 at 7:39 am
Cosma Shalizi
Someone had a good comment, several years ago now, about the puzzles which the complexity of the historical record presents for Domar’s theory:
March 5, 2010 at 8:20 am
Matt
brad is very loyal to friends. perhaps to a fault.
Even when they are pretty loathsome types who engaged in an awful lot of criminal to semi-criminal activity of the sort he’d find obviously vile if were done by someone other than his friend, say, an economist who works at Harvard and stole from both the Russian and the American people (and, arguably, Harvard.)
March 5, 2010 at 8:39 am
big bad wolf
as a criminal defense lawyer, i have to say that it’s not all quite so black and white on my side of the courtroom. prosecutors erase doubt; criminal defense attorneys live by the alternate interpretation, by making people see that there are other ways of seeing it, even if those ways are not what people want to see. the difference is a verdict or decision makes a winner or loser, and the yes, but is officially erased. that official erasure does not mean that there does not exist, in the vast majority of cases the sort of “yes, but” that exists in other parts of life, such as those historians study.
March 5, 2010 at 9:12 am
silbey
as a criminal defense lawyer, i have to say that it’s not all quite so black and white on my side of the courtroom
Fair point. I do note, however, that your work is all in service of getting a declaration of “innocent” at the end of the case. You couldn’t, for example, say “Yes, but my client is guilty.”
Someone had a good comment, several years ago now, about the puzzles which the complexity of the historical record presents for Domar’s theory
That someone being Krugman, of course. I don’t aim this thread to be a referendum on Krugman (or DeLong for that matter), but my issue with Domar and with Krugman’s comments is that it assumes the primacy of economic motivations above all. That’s nowhere more evident than in the quote at the end of Krugman’s comment:
Yes, I know, human rights and all that – but if it was profitable to have indentured servants in the modern world, I’m sure that Richard Scaife’s think tanks would have no trouble finding justifications, and assorted Christian groups would explain why it’s God’s will
The blithe dismissal of anything but economic motivations is quite striking.
(And I have now defended Richard Scaife. My eyes are bleeding.)
March 5, 2010 at 9:42 am
kid bitzer
‘course, that line might not be saying:
“human beings have no motivations that are not at root economic motivations.
it might just be saying:
“richard scaife and the christian right have no motivations that are not at root economic motivations.”
March 5, 2010 at 11:30 am
JRoth
I don’t have much good to say about economics-as-she-is-practiced, but it strikes me that there’s a saying that’s relevant to silbey’s claims on behalf of history: When everyone is responsible, no one is responsible.
If every situation in human history can be spun out into infinite detail, infinite layers of “yes, but,” then history loses all explanatory power. Hell, the addition of just a single alternate explanation (economics, as it happens) for the Civil War enables countless assholes to regally assure us that the war had nothing to do with slavery.
In some ways it’s probably more accurate to say that history is just a bunch of stuff that happened (as opposed to pretending to be able to nail down causation), but that makes it hard to explain why we bother with it.
March 5, 2010 at 11:34 am
Erik Lund
I’ve never read Domar’s article, but unless it is the origin of the whole “extensive agriculture leads to indentured servitude” thing, it is not as original as DeLong things. I heard it from Robert Kubicek in a West African context. It might even be one of those Big Ideas old-timey colonial administrators hatched.
Now, Domar sounds like a good first pass explanation for what happened when Russia exploded, but you’d think that a good totalising theory would give an account of “why” as well as of “what.”* Anyway, there are criticisms.
Any attempt to attack the “why” problem reveals our lack of data. We just don’t know that much about what was going on in Muscovy in 1520.
We need remedy the problem. There is archaeology, and new sources, and the possibilities of comparative studies (which allows us to talk about places like Zhungaria,** so, really, win-win). Much of our headway, however, will be made by re-examining data in hand. Which happens to include economic data. And whatever else it does, economics feeds us, and this is of some importance. Academic economics provides tools for revisiting the data. Surely this is no more controversial than the idea that gender history or the new military history can offer new insights?
With new complexities in hand, new theories are surely possible. Theory-test-new theory. Wow. I’ve strained so much to produce such a platitude. (Maybe if I can figure out a way to commute to 1850, I can get a parttime job at the _Edinburgh Review_.) I guess that makes economics part of the scientific historian’s experimental arsenal.
Yes, there is Silbey’s point that a commitment to methods embeds ideology. Surely this is the point of having a scholarly community to challenge narratives, rather than a single wizard in a tower. the smartypant commentariat at the linked article note that the Krugman narrative of political awakening is not precisely accurate.
Is that surprising? If all method embeds ideology, all discussion of method is ideological, and implicates political discourse. And we are all political animals.
*(Potatoes and sunflowers, not gunpowder; Pamela Crossley’s universal rulership, not BDSM-influenced ideas of “slavery.” If anyone’s interested.)
**Peter Perdue, James Milward. No, seriously. You will never think of the Dalai Lama and China the same way again.
March 5, 2010 at 11:39 am
andrew
There are sections of Europe bordered by Russia on one side and what is now Germany on the other that did not see the expansion of available land that Russia did, but did at about the same time see the imposition of a similar system of serfdom.
March 5, 2010 at 12:13 pm
silbey
If every situation in human history can be spun out into infinite detail, infinite layers of “yes, but,” then history loses all explanatory power. Hell, the addition of just a single alternate explanation (economics, as it happens) for the Civil War enables countless assholes to regally assure us that the war had nothing to do with slavery.
That certainly seems to me to be a problem with history as well. It’s also an example of how badly history can sometimes come through to the modern world. Histories that may make the point that there were multiple causes for the Civil War get taken for saying that slavery wasn’t important. (I was looking at an old Ron Paul thread last week: good times!)
March 5, 2010 at 2:08 pm
Historiann
Silbey, may I say that J. Bradford Delong would be a much better economist if he had read a 14-page article from 40 years ago in my field? (Oh, just pick one, any one. It doesn’t much matter which.) I’m so confident of the transcendent importance and continued relevance of American women’s history as practiced 40 years ago that even brief articles from 1970 are so much more important than anything he’s ever read or published himself so far.
I’m sure that if he had read this, he’d be much smarter than he appears to be, and I’m confident that his intellectual outlook would be entirely different. Word.
(BTW, he left the identical comment on my blog, too, although he left you out of it.)
March 5, 2010 at 4:51 pm
Brad DeLong
Which article?
Evsey Domar’s article is a good one. People should read it.
March 5, 2010 at 5:59 pm
Ben Alpers
The cigarette story reminded me of the Sears sex discrimination case from the 1980s, which pit Alice Kessler-Harris (testifying for the EEOC) against Rosalind Rosenberg (testifying for Sears). For more details, see this rather partisan, but very thorough, blog post from Rosenberg’s ex-husband who worked for the firm representing Sears (NB: I’m not at all endorsing the POV of the linked post….I’m just lazy and it was the first detailed thing I found about the Sears case on teh interwebs).
March 5, 2010 at 7:01 pm
Sandie
To piggyback on Ben, you could also read Joan Wallach Scott’s, “The Sears Case,” in her Gender and the Politics of History book.
March 6, 2010 at 12:32 am
dave
Anyone would think that ‘history’ and ‘economic history’ were two fields that never communicated. This is dangerously close to the truth in some respects; but in others, such as the histories of industrialisation, colonisation, slavery, agriculture… it’s bullcrap. The question of whether economists who hypothesize about economic history have actually studied it is another matter.
March 6, 2010 at 11:17 am
Colin
BdeL responded to Historiann’s posted mockery of Domar, mockery apparently uninformed by any reading of Domar. Anyone interested in commenting substantively can surely follow Brad’s link. Maybe then we could move past satisfying stereotypes of each other.
I sympathize with most of its sentiments, but Silbey’s post is ultimately a self-satisfied story of we’re-subtle-they’re-simple, assembling a little rogue’s gallery on the simple side.
March 6, 2010 at 1:36 pm
JPool
Colin,
Did you even read the post? The whole second half was about some historians agreeing to be the hired guns of the simple and about what it costs us as a discipline or as individuals interested in public policy to be so wedded to the subtle. I liked both Historiann’s post and her comments over at her place. She didn’t take a hatchett to either Krugman or Domar. What she was mocking was the narrative of simple explanation=good thing.
DeLong’s second comment was entirely unobjectionable. His first comment was obnoxious, presumptuous and, as kb points out, if read literally, nonsensical. He both presumes that Silbey and Historiann haven’t read Domar and then takes the utterly dickish “you’d be a better historian if you had read him” line.
OK, so I’ve read Domar now via DeLong’s link (Better Historian powers, go!), and it’s fun. I enjoyed it. It’s also horribly out of date, in a way that it seems clear Domar would embrace. We know a lot more about slave systems or systems of unfree labor the world over now than we did 40 years ago. I think that the general thesis, that forms of unfree labor emerge in response to situations of available land but scarce labor, holds true some of the time! DeLong’s reprise of it shows even less awareness the history of slavery written in the intervening years since, as Stuart Schwartz and Frederick Cooper would tell him, plenty of slave systems incorporate skilled labor. I also think that economic rationality, per Silbey’s comment above, only ever gets you so far in understanding lived historical realities.
Shorter: Colin, did you even read the post?
March 6, 2010 at 7:04 pm
Western Dave
I think JPool nailed it. The question isn’t have we read Domar, the question is has Delong read all the follow-ups to Domar that proved that the thesis is only true some of the time. Or how slavery changed to adapt to industrialization via the rise of sugar plantations (Sidney Mintz and a whole host of others anyone?)
March 6, 2010 at 7:16 pm
Jason B.
Damned coastal elites.
March 6, 2010 at 10:58 pm
Charlieford
“Historians have and will study the mythos of the American past; it might be wise if we did more to create that mythos.”
It’s been done.
March 6, 2010 at 11:35 pm
Walt
Huh, I just got banned from Historiann’s blog for defending my man Krugman. Other comments she’s made here seemed okay, but her post about Krugman is pretty wrong on the merits, and she seems uninterested in being corrected.
March 6, 2010 at 11:53 pm
andrew
I think it was the choice of words, not the defense of Krugman.
March 7, 2010 at 6:09 am
CSProf
That kind of language can get you banned over there? I didn’t read anything remotely objectionable language-wise.
March 7, 2010 at 9:24 am
Robin Marie
“If every situation in human history can be spun out into infinite detail, infinite layers of “yes, but,” then history loses all explanatory power.”
I would like to hazard the completely unfounded in any empirical evidence *impression* that not only is this often the case, but some historians sometimes (note my cautious language here?) revel in this.
In other words, I agree that the discipline is married to complexity and subtlety for various good reasons, but I think sometimes there is a tendency to delight in destruction of the elegant argument for the sake of destruction. Breaking down an overly simplistic thesis from another discipline or going after a fairly well established one in history is, first off, a way to come up with a dissertation or a project that makes you stand out. All history is revisionist not only because often times that makes good history, but sometimes because it makes bad history but keeps the discipline alive and moving.
Additionally I think there is an intellectual attraction. When presented with an elegant but possibly over-simplified explanation, some historians respond with a knee-jerk response of “Well it can’t be that simple,” even if the thesis isn’t really claiming it always is. Lots of attacks ensue to show that it isn’t that simple, and then there we are, with no explanatory power whatsoever. However, to anyone willing to take the chance that they might be wrong in some situations or that this might not apply 1oo percent of the time, there is still a really useful, enlightening idea to use. I don’t quite understand the hostility to being “over-simplifying,” myself. Better to run the risk of simplifying a little too much than to understand absolutely nothing at all, and to delight in our inability (unwillingness?) to discover cause and effect.
There have been various ideas like this, “overly simple” or even many say “wrong,” that keep being useful and read despite the attacks they have endured from many angles. For me intellectually, that’s more exciting than something that is narrow, but very confident in all of its claims. But hey, that’s just me.
March 7, 2010 at 10:01 am
Colin
JPool (1) I commented on precisely the 2nd half of Silbey’s post — the fact that it casts selected historians in its rogue’s gallery of simplifiers is essential to its rhetorical force, no? (2) Histroiann @ 2:08 appears to concede not having read Domar.
Thank you for taking the plunge and reading it.
March 7, 2010 at 10:42 am
Charlieford
As far as history “explaining”: there was quite a debate back in the 50s and 60s between Carl Hempel and (principally) William Dray, over the question, “Is history a social science?” Hempel said “no, sciences explain, and they do so by bringing individual events under “covering laws.” History don’t do that. I forget what Dray said in response.
I think the proper response is, “No, it isn’t, and good riddance.”
Robin Marie says “Breaking down an overly simplistic thesis from another discipline or going after a fairly well established one in history”; but if it’s the case that the thesis is “overly simplistic” then, is it also true that dismantling it is just “a tendency to delight in destruction of the elegant argument for the sake of destruction”?
I do not think so.
The deeper question is, Are all explanations of human phenomena overly simplistic?
I tend to think so.
March 7, 2010 at 10:50 am
dave
The study of history is not about giving you a set of tools to make understanding and manipulating the world easier; it is about making you into a person who realises how complex the world is to understand, and how far more complex to try to manipulate.
March 7, 2010 at 11:35 am
kid bitzer
robin marie, i’m inclined to agree with you, or at any rate i’ll say some things in an agreeing tone of voice and maybe they’ll be what you meant, too.
i think you can have a lot of different views about the status of history as a science, and even about the status of sciences as sciences, and still have a liking for a good rule of thumb.
sure, history will not give us exceptionless laws. but even hempel will have to agree that biology gives us relatively few exceptionless laws, chemistry only a few more, and physics, which does best of the natural sciences, is not exceptionlessly exceptionless.
so whether history aspires to being a science or not, in either case it should rest content that, as a theoretical explanatory enterprise, it will not consist in an unbroken series of unbroken law-like explanatory regularities. if anyone was hoping for that, their hopes are in vain.
at the same time, there are practical reasons for wanting historians to offer explanatory hypotheses, in the fully knowledge that they’ll be imperfect, and wanting them to work towards improving their adequacy, power, and elegance, slowly and incrementally, through the normal methods of confrontation with evidence, peer scrutiny, etc..
and the reason is not because historians should aspire to manipulating instead of merely understanding. the reason is because non-historians are going to do a lot of manipulating, no matter what the historians do.
if the pure historian’s monastic abstention from meddling would only inspire the rest of the world to leave the world alone, then historians might be justified in staying in the monastery. but for some reason, the meddlers and manipulators just don’t seem to follow our lead. they keep on manipulating.
and these meddling non-historians do their manipulating using rules of thumb. the rules of thumb they use can either be totally uninformed by the historical record, or they can be better-informed by the historical record.
that’s the only choice: shall they use really bad, ignorant rules of thumb, or slightly better, partly researched and justified rules of thumb?
we can’t choose whether people will meddle or not. in fact, we can’t even choose which rules they’ll use–nobody buys my books. but we can at least choose to make better rules available. (and then sit open-mouthed in horror as they use the wrong ones anyhow).
never start a land-war in asia. it’s a horrible theorem of history. it fails to take account of the historical and geopolitical complexity of the asian continent, as well as subtle questions about what counts as a land-war to begin with.
but it’s not a bad rule of thumb. and it would have been far, far better if the meddlers had used that one than the other rules of thumb they used instead.
March 7, 2010 at 11:57 am
kid bitzer
or i coulda just misquoted keynes:
practical men, who believe themselves to be quite exempt from any intellectual influence, are usually the slaves of some defunct historian.
March 7, 2010 at 1:28 pm
JPool
Colin, working backwards:
Thank you for taking the plunge and reading it.
Umm … you’re welcome? I read lots of things. Not as many as I should, but that’s always the case. But why are you thanking me? Are you secretly Brad DeLong, or are you somehow made a better whateveryouare by me reading Domar?
Histroiann @ 2:08 appears to concede not having read Domar.
By making fun of DeLong for not having read an arbitrary/unnamed article? Wow, your reading and interpretation methodologies are much … bolder than mine. If you become a historian, you should be aware that that’s the sort of thing that can get you into trouble. Also, does it matter if she hasn’t read Domar? Does she have to have done so in order to respond – in a blog post mind – to the ideas presented in an article about Krugman? And DeLong didn’t read that comment or ask if she had read Domar before leaving his comments. He just thethingsI’vealreadywritten.
I commented on precisely the 2nd half of Silbey’s post — the fact that it casts selected historians in its rogue’s gallery of simplifiers is essential to its rhetorical force, no?
Huh. So your problem with Silbey’s post wasn’t the historians versus economists angle but that it implied that simple was bad and subtlety good? Despite, again, the musing on the subtlety downsides? Do you have a positive argument to make along Robin Marie’s lines about why simple is better than subtle or … no, I really don’t understand what your critique is. (Fwiw, personally I love me some complexity, but I agree with kb and disagree with Charlieford here.)
March 7, 2010 at 2:02 pm
Walt
I think a big part of the reason universities have to have distinct disciplines is that each discipline has its own particular déformation professionnelle, and that this is necessary to do good work in that field. Anthropologists need to think that culture is paramount, economics need to think that economic forces are paramount, etc. Historians apparently (and I wouldn’t have guessed this before reading historians’ blogs) need to believe that everything is very complicated, and requires all of the richness of details to understand. I suppose spending years on archival research would seem pointless if you believed they could be rendered redundant by a theoretical argument in a 17-page paper.
It requires procrastinating amateurs on the Internet to synthesize these different world-views into an accurate picture.
March 7, 2010 at 5:34 pm
Colin
Thank you again, JPool.
What’s an example of history that doesn’t explain?
March 7, 2010 at 5:39 pm
Walt
This would be an example: “History is just one damned thing after another.”
March 7, 2010 at 5:52 pm
big bad wolf
silbey, yes, but. not in service of getting a declaration of innocence. that’s not a verdict that is ever rendered. picky :)
and sometimes we do say guilty, yes, but for there can be some defenses that applies to (justification, e.g), or in mitigation of the degree of the offense, or in mitigation of punishment.
all of this is obviously different and differently circumscribed than what historians do; yours is a continuing yes, but, mine a time-limited one. (although even that has a yes but: appellate arguments can achieve long lasting results and interpretations of concepts like liberty and privacy)
March 7, 2010 at 6:51 pm
Charlieford
“Historians apparently (and I wouldn’t have guessed this before reading historians’ blogs) need to believe that everything is very complicated, and requires all of the richness of details to understand.”
“need to believe”?
Do you really want to be on the receiving end of someone who thinks they can understand you better by leaving the details (of your situation, your motivation, your personality and politics) aside?
I would have said historians see the anthropologists as having the key, sometimes, the economists, sometimes, the psychologists, sometimes, the queer theorists, sometimes, the Nietzscheans, sometimes, the neuro-biologists, sometimes, and all of them having purchase on part of the story, all the time.
March 7, 2010 at 6:52 pm
Jotham Parsons
For the record, the Evsey Domar article referenced in the first comment appeared in the Journal of Economic History, not the Economic History Review.
March 7, 2010 at 6:52 pm
Charlieford
And yes, I left out the sociologists on purpose.
March 7, 2010 at 7:53 pm
JPool
Doesn’t explain what?
March 7, 2010 at 9:51 pm
Robin Marie
@dave; I would abstain from making any sweeping statements about “what history is about,” insofar as I am pretty sure different historians have different ideas about the purpose and point of what they are doing, and that is sort of up to them. Granted, if you took a poll right now of historians, your definition would probably come out on top over a view of history which sees its purpose as helping us to understand the past and thus assisting us in guiding our actions in the present. But nonetheless that hardly means “history” as an idea can be anything external to those who practice it, that it has a “purpose” outside of what they intend it to be. It has been different things at different times for different people.
I would also like you to elaborate on your comment that history is “about making you into a person who realises how complex the world is to understand, and how far more complex to try to manipulate.” Ok, I don’t disagree with this at all. But I have to ask, *then what*? So we sit around in university offices or our living rooms, musing about how complex it is, and that is the end of it? I would guess you wouldn’t agree with this. I would guess you think this understanding of complexity has some virtue in the form of some consequence, external to graduate seminars and professors’ dinner conversation. And I want to hear the argument of what that consequence is, and how it operates in the world. I am not intending to imply, if my tone is coming across wrong here, that there isn’t one, and that it doesn’t so operate. I’ve just had a hard time seeing how the adoration of complexity and the resistance to say x caused y actually impacts the world outside of the university, and if someone has an argument to that extent, I want to know what consequences you are seeing, and how you feel about their importance.
@kid bitzer; yup, I am in agreement.
March 8, 2010 at 2:17 am
CSProf
“Do you really want to be on the receiving end of someone who thinks they can understand you better by leaving the details (of your situation, your motivation, your personality and politics) aside?”
I don’t know what “being on the receiving end” means? Do individuals want to be on the receiving end of reductive psychological explanations? Do they want to be on the receiving end of differently reductive microeconomic explanations? And who (in the context of this discussion) cares?
The question is, does history have an explaining power at all? People upthread valiantly claimed not only that it doesn’t, but that it doesn’t purport to. One being seemingly you (in your earlier post), the other being dave.
The first response to this would be that this is clearly not a science then. This by itself is not a value judgement, just a hopefully uncontroversial corrolary of the above statements.
The second response would be to further elucidate what its purpose is.
Thinking about it a bit, it would seem that history, looked at an endeavour to appreciate complexity of human interactions all around us with the help of the historical record, is most similar to philosophy, philosophy by other (or additional) means if you will.
March 8, 2010 at 7:14 am
Charlieford
“I don’t know what “being on the receiving end” means? … And who (in the context of this discussion) cares?”
The backdrop to my statement was the “need to believe.”
My point was to ask, is it a professional requirement, or is it something about what’s being studied (ie, human behavior, broadly defined).
My question, designed to illustrate, was simply this: Is there any situation (in daily life, court of law, whatever) you have ever thought someone was misunderstanding you because they were taking a too nuanced, complex view of your actions, and where you found yourself saying, “No, don’t you see, you’re over-complexifying my motives and actions! It’s much more simple than that!”
March 8, 2010 at 7:16 am
kid bitzer
csprof–
“Thinking about it a bit, it would seem that history… is most similar to philosophy, philosophy by other (or additional) means if you will.”
funny you should mention that, since this blog’s “about” page features a quote from thucydides in which he said
“philosophy *is* history, teaching by leaving out the, y’know, facts.”
March 8, 2010 at 7:29 am
dave
Robin Marie – my point is that history as an education is precisely about sending out into the world people who have a sense of the delicacy and complexity of the interactions they are going to engage in. Most history graduates, after all, do not become historians. The training of professional historians is, ironically perhaps, only a sideline to academic historical practice. By analogy, one might say that the purpose of teaching people to fly airplanes is not to produce people who are good at teaching others to fly airplanes, it’s to produce people who can fly airplanes… The fact that the people who are best at flying airplanes might find a role teaching others is incidental – though it also helps to keep up the quality of the airplace-flying cohort overall.
Participating in public life as a citizen does not, alas, involve such a well-defined and testable skillset as does aviation, but it is equally, if not more, complex if done well. A job of the historian should be to get people to see that, and think about how they are going to do it. The fact that historians, like other academics, are quite capable of devoting their professional lives to avoiding questions of public significance, and feuding furiously over minutiae with scholastic intensity, is a bug, not a feature.
March 8, 2010 at 9:43 am
Robin Marie
“Participating in public life as a citizen does not, alas, involve such a well-defined and testable skillset as does aviation, but it is equally, if not more, complex if done well.”
True, but what I am thinking about here is the amount of vagueness going on here. One could say one way to participate in public life as a citizen is to do just what Krugman is doing, which would be a lot more concrete. Now I actually think that historians could do this too and just as well as an economist; but most of them don’t *think* that, which brings me to our central disagreement:
“The fact that historians, like other academics, are quite capable of devoting their professional lives to avoiding questions of public significance, and feuding furiously over minutiae with scholastic intensity, is a bug, not a feature.”
I think it is a feature, absolutely, particularly the aspect about avoiding questions of public significance. At least right now it is. And I’ll argue that there is a general effect of the fear of being too simple that makes “politics” or “engagement with politics” seem dirty and beneath them to many if not most scholars.
March 8, 2010 at 10:51 am
Charlieford
There was a big argument among social scientists back in the ’30s over whether they had a responsibility to enter the public fray, as it were, and address controversial topics in language the common man could understand. To advocate, in other words. the pro-advocacy types argued (as we see above, too) that not to do so leaves the field to hacks, the ignorant, the partisan. Anti-advocacy types countered that to do so embroils the entire discipline in what is inevitably partisan anyway: Instead of injecting a note of objectivity, or if not that, at least expertise and authority, into a partisan debate, the expertise of the discipline will be shrouded and overcome by its association with a partisan position, reducing the discipline’s ability to affect any such debates at all.
March 8, 2010 at 11:10 am
dave
One should not forget that the user experience can often be comprised almost entirely of bug-encounters.
Besides, you, Robin Marie, are eliding two functions – that of providing an education, and food for thought, which is what historians do in their professional life as either/both teachers and writers, and engaging in public life with the benefits gained from that education/brain food. You may assert that historians ought to get their hands dirty flying the airplane, and I may counter that it’s my job to train pilots, not get the redeye to LAX on time. Impasse has successfully been reached.
In the meantime I will point you to http://www.historyandpolicy.org/
Where exactly what you seem to want is going on in a UK context. It has been going on for some time, to no noticeable effect, except to make some Cambridge historians feel good about themselves.
March 8, 2010 at 11:17 am
dana
I don’t really have a dog in this fight, but I don’t see a good reason to think that both approaches can’t be worthwhile. Sometimes rough and ready rules with a lot of predictive power are what you need. Sometimes you need lots of details and are less concerned with prediction, but instead with understanding.
And sometimes you might need the first to correct the second, say, if people were confused about the effects of the New Deal on economic recovery, it might help to have, say, a very short introduction on what actually happened…
March 8, 2010 at 11:48 am
Charlieford
Dana, don’t you mean “wie es eigentlich gewesen”?
March 8, 2010 at 12:09 pm
JPool
(Other comments came while I was writing this, but it still seems relevantish.)
Hmm, we seem to be running into problems of language here. (Robin Marie, dave is using “feature” in a fairly specific way to mean not just a common characteristic, but a characteristic that’s there by design and seen as a good thing, as opposed to a “bug”, a negative unintended consequence.) I’ll try being less glib.
As I noted the last time we discussed such things round these parts, historians use theories and examplantory models the same as any humanistic or social science discipline. There are a range of opinions within the discipline on how much or in what form history should be engaged in such comparative or theoretical discussions, but there are very few who would argue that our findings should be limitied to factual claims about isolated times, places and/or individuals. Even to make those isolated claims well, we have to abstract from points of evidence to offer a larger explanatory picture. Where history differs from the social sciences is in not whether it is willing to compare or generalize, but how quickly and to what degree we move to do so. In the humanities, generally speaking, we tend to want greater rigor and more empirical data for our claims. So, to put it another potentially confusing way, we think of ourselves as more scientific than the humanities and less scientistic (making scientific claims for areas that not as law based as physics or even biology) than the social sciences.
As dave points out, very few academics of any stripe are cut out for punditry, and historians are probably less well-suited than most to turn our dense and interwoven citational narratives into talking points. The question is, can we be collectively and individually better about communicating in ways that resonate publically without betraying whatever it is that we’re about. James Scott’s done a good job of reaching beyond anthropology to espouse a position similar to dave’s (as I read him): that attempts to manipulate the world from on high pretty much always reach a bad end. One can produce useful rules of thumb from this (change should come from below, or make sure that people are involved at all levels), but it requires that one take that next step.
March 8, 2010 at 2:10 pm
Robin Marie
JPool — I didn’t think that was glib, you’re right; I had the sense in which he was using the vocabulary a bit confused. Although I would still venture to suggest that avoiding public policy issues comes close to unofficially being a “feature,” ie deliberately there and viewed as a good thing. Although I guess anything unofficial means it loses the status of a feature, and that I grant you. I also totally admit that my observations here are intuitive, ie I feel like I am observing the consequences of an attitude usually not consciously recognized. Hence my original opener that my argument has a weak spot insofar as it isn’t based on “empirical evidence.” But I’m taking a leap and thinking it might have some value for thought, anyway.
And you’re right about the central question, communicating better without compromising. And I think we can.
Dave — unfortunately, you are right to be pessimistic about what effect a more public historical community could make. God knows a few years ago I had completely resigned myself to ignore the rest of the world for the rest of my life, and had given up on it completely. Interestingly, my hopes for the potential of change haven’t increased much at all, if anything I’ve gotten more pessimistic. But I’ve decided to bang my head against the wall anyway, for a whole host of reasons there is no need to go into here.
But your tone of people feeling good about themselves is an old backlash attitude which points to an element of human nature which is everywhere, not just those who participate in political issues. Sure, any issue of public attention attracts people who simply like the self-aggrandizement it gives them; but it also attracts very sincere people who simply have a hard time giving up. Often a mix of the two is in the same person, and that is only human, and not a strong argument against trying to make a difference (even if that seems highly unlikely).
After all, pretty much everyone constructs their activities and identities around something that “makes them feel good” about themselves. Just because a public intellectual like Krugman (not that you necessarily were referring to him) goes home at the end of the day feeling good and proud about the choices he’s made, doesn’t mean a strictly academic, concerned only with his particular time period scholar doesn’t go home with the exact same sense of pride and personal virtue. This is a feature common to people everywhere, and it isn’t always necessarily shameful when also mixed with sincere intentions.
March 8, 2010 at 2:22 pm
Robert Halford
I think that “complexity” is something that can be, and sometimes is, overly fetishized by professional academic historians. There is a professional bias that reinforces that fetish: a strong belief in the value of complex-ifying explanations helps to justify that time in the archives and all the new dissertations.
Of course, the world really is complex, and there’s nothing wrong with being modest and conscious about the limits of one’s power to explain. But at the end of the day people turn to the past primarily to increase their ability to understand and explain the world around them, and history that offers no clearer message than “things are complicated, get used to it” will not find much purchase outside of the academy, and little within it.
March 8, 2010 at 2:28 pm
CSProf
@kid
Well, being a greek (that has forgotten his Thucidides — who we never seriously studied in school unfortunately, had to pick it up later), I certainly think that most things worth saying were said by the ancient greeks :)
To the discussion at hand though: at the time, philosophy encompassed a great many things. Today, is this relevant still? I mean, philosophy (even analytic philosophy) is not a science, at least wasn’t last time I checked. :-) Is history (still) philosophy with facts?
March 8, 2010 at 2:45 pm
CSProf
@dana
“Sometimes you need lots of details and are less concerned with prediction, but instead with understanding. ”
But considering the full breadth and depth of factors at play does not bring understanding. I think that’s the crux. In the end, much of history seems to say “it’s all very complicated” — as someone upthread noted, lots of historians take pleasure in just explaining why earlier explanations were inadequate because the factors they didn’t take into account really had some impact somehow, somewhere.
So, is there understanding coming out of history? And what form does that understanding take? Is it positive understanding, about the nature of the object under study, or just understanding about what others said/wrote about the object under study?
What dave says above is not the kind of understanding I am inquiring about, by the way. He’s talking of the understanding of Socrates, I know one thing that I know nothing — not about understanding the object of the inquiry. Very valuable, but as the result of a scientific endeavor a bit problematic, I would think, if it’s the only result.
March 8, 2010 at 4:25 pm
Brad DeLong
RE: “The question isn’t have we read Domar, the question is has Delong read all the follow-ups to Domar that proved that the thesis is only true some of the time. Or how slavery changed to adapt to industrialization via the rise of sugar plantations (Sidney Mintz and a whole host of others anyone?)…”
Not all, but many of them.
March 8, 2010 at 5:40 pm
onymous
I don’t really have a dog in this fight, but I don’t see a good reason to think that both approaches can’t be worthwhile.
No! We must always have nuance! Simplicity is never the answer!
March 8, 2010 at 5:59 pm
dana
s it positive understanding, about the nature of the object under study, or just understanding about what others said/wrote about the object under study?
I’m not a historian, but from reading what they write and listening to what they say, it’s a lot of “The conventional wisdom is X. But here, my research shows not X and people thought X because they hadn’t paid attention to Y and Z. If they had, they’d agree with me.” To me, this shows that sometimes the quick-and-dirty version of events is false, and that one can only see why that explanation fails if one has someone who looks at all of the events and teases out the details and says e.g, no, actually, FDR’s actions helped the U.S. get out of the Great Depression, etc. I’m sure there’s no way that’s relevant to 2010.
That doesn’t strike me as saying only what other people wrote, but I was committed to a narrower claim: sometimes a generalized rule is what you need (the causes of slavery are due to pressure over scarce land), sometimes, you need to know why that rule doesn’t work (..except in all these cases where it isn’t true.) I don’t see why dismissing either would be good practice on pragmatic grounds. The trick is to know which you need.
March 8, 2010 at 7:46 pm
JPool
CSProf,
Historians mostly write in response to other historians (so far as I can tell, this pattern also holds true in economics and in many other disciplines), so they often make a big show about how their account is different and you should take the time to read them rather than sticking with the previous studies. All of that is just to position the understanding that they’re advancing against the understanding that others have advanced. That understanding is, or means to be, of the thing itself, with the acknowledgement that that understanding will always be partial and that there will always be new questions to ask and try to answer about said thing.
Here is where we come to the difficult question of which sort of things it is that we are talking about. Is it just, say, the political history of colonial Philadelphia (a particular aspect of a particular time and place), or is it the ability of creolized elites to form new political institutions (a point of comparison with other colonial societies), or is it the human capacity to form and reform systems of governance (which is where an anthropologist, say, would want to get to)? Some historians would stop with the first level of question, most would move on to the second, and a few would venture on to the third. If you want an economics level of law divining, like “humans form x kind of political system under y conditions,” historians generally won’t go that far because they believe that the evidence shows you can’t (there are a few that will, but they tend to be cranks). Again, this doesn’t mean we’re reduced to saying “everything is very complex” (though it is), just that the best you’re going to get is “x has operated more commonly under y and z circumstaces, though of course q is a noteworthy exception.”
March 9, 2010 at 1:49 am
CSProf
JPool,
if I overlook the overly simplistic description of “economics laws” (which you mostly get either in first year textbooks or from pundits and/or cranks :-) then I see what you’re saying.
March 9, 2010 at 5:58 am
Barry
silbey (I think; the formatting of comments s*cks on this blog): “There are sections of Europe bordered by Russia on one side and what is now Germany on the other that did not see the expansion of available land that Russia did, but did at about the same time see the imposition of a similar system of serfdom.”
If you’re referring to Poland (using the term loosely), I’ve heard that that was associated with increased grain exports through the Baltic, which made leaning on the peasants to grow more grain worthwhile. IIRC, the idea was that before there was a good export market, the local market for grain was saturated, and raising more grain would have benefited local rulers very little. Afterwards, the export market could draw large quantities of grain at higher marginal prices.
March 9, 2010 at 11:22 am
Brad DeLong
Dana writes: “I was committed to a narrower claim: sometimes a generalized rule is what you need (the causes of slavery are due to pressure over scarce land)…”
Alas! That is not what Domar says at all. If you have scarce land, then it is easier to simply make the land the private property of the power elite–and then the workers have to strike bargains with the bosses to rent the land or work on the land for wages, and you have a rich leisured upper class without that messy human-bondage stuff.
It’s only if there is no pressure over scarce land that the power elite has an incentive to become not landlords on a large scale but laborlords. (You also need other things: a fugitive slave law, or equivalent, and something for the slaves to do that produces enough surplus to pay for Simon Legree, etc…)
March 9, 2010 at 1:05 pm
silbey
If you have scarce land, then it is easier to simply make the land the private property of the power elite–and then the workers have to strike bargains with the bosses to rent the land or work on the land for wages, and you have a rich leisured upper class without that messy human-bondage stuff.
It’s only if there is no pressure over scarce land that the power elite has an incentive to become not landlords on a large scale but laborlords.
Except when it doesn’t. As Domar points out (and Krugman echoes), the hypothesis fails in the post-Black Death Western Europe. So we are, again, left with an economic analysis that is useful except when it isn’t. And, to echo my point in the post: a simple answer that proves, rather, to be simplistic.
March 9, 2010 at 1:37 pm
kid bitzer
well, the specified condition might still lead to their having the *incentive*, i.e. that part of the rule might still work, even post-black-death europe.
it’s just that the incentive in some cases will be sufficient, on its own and in opposition to disincentives, to bring about slavery, whereas in other contexts the incentive won’t incent enough.
(i’m not defending the over-all project of historical explanation via analyses of economic factors. just pointing out that bdl has phrased his proposed law in terms of incentives rather than outcomes. and i assume that’s not accidental on his part.)
March 9, 2010 at 2:45 pm
John S.
JPool,
Excellent post! I must say that as the only person to have written about the formation of governing institutions in colonial Pennsylvania as an example of creole elite formation (who knew it was a topic people might use as an offhand example?), I do find the multiple levels questions to be an important one. Here I would emphasize the importance not just of disciplines but of subdisciplines: American historians tend to write for other American historians (however “American” is defined), historians of Asia for other Asian historians, etc.
The fact that most historians tend in practice to be wary of general “laws of history” that transcend time and place magnifies this issue. So moving up from a first level to a second level question (as you describe in your post) involves talking to a new group of scholars and being responsive to a different field’s concerns, etc.
March 9, 2010 at 5:12 pm
dana
Alas! That is not what Domar says at all
Fair enough. Also not the point of my comment.
March 9, 2010 at 5:33 pm
JPool
John S.,
Thanks! It was a happy accident resulting from me struggling against my Africanist predispositions, but not overcoming my borderline unhealthy Bennedict Anderson infatuation.
Yeah, the area-studies biases within history are a big stumbling block to getting any sort of wider or more broadly comparative conversation going. I mean, I get it, I want a way to limit the things I have to read too, but it makes it really hard to get comparative or transnational history to be a functioning thing, rather than just a gesture. It also means that when giving talks to mixed audiences (say, job talks) it can be a challenge to convince folks that your work could be meaningful and comprehensible to them, and that you ought not be regarded as some exotic species of fish.
March 9, 2010 at 6:57 pm
Charlieford
“most historians tend in practice to be wary of general “laws of history” that transcend time and place”
“wary”?
March 9, 2010 at 9:17 pm
mr earl
Damndest thing. One of our longest threads is one of our most boring. And tendentious, too. I mean, “pressure over scarce land”? Absence of which leads to “laborlords”?
Land ain’t scarce. There’s a definite and finite amount. They are not making anymore. Scarcity is not an issue. You may mean, pressure as to cleared, or arable, or watered, or level(ed), or just pain fertile, land but to apply “scarcity” to land is a bit inappropriate, unless by definition anything finite is scarce.
I think you may mean, concentration of control of (exploitable) land leads to laborlords. That’s plausible. The thereby excluded capital and excluded labor gotta have somewhere to go. And they assume their usual postures.
Otherwise, thanks to charlieford for keeping this discussion kind of entertaining.
March 9, 2010 at 9:55 pm
Vance
mr earl, is your claim simply that “pressure” is a better term than “scarcity”? If so, you’ve hardly made the thread less boring. ;-)
(For what it’s worth, the Dutch among others have indeed “made” land, but that doesn’t amount to much proportionally.)
March 9, 2010 at 9:58 pm
andrew
Made land – tidelands, shore fills, etc. – is actually a really interesting topic.
Ok, maybe only if you’re already interested in it.
March 9, 2010 at 10:07 pm
Vance
It sure interests me — I don’t live quite in the Marina, but on the edge of the filled-in Dolores Lagoon.
March 9, 2010 at 11:01 pm
andrew
Yeah, California history has all kinds of made land goings on. Particularly on the Bay and the Delta. My favorite image from my old research was of a guy, working for a small railroad company*, floating out near what’s now Treasure Island, dropping buoys to mark out his “land” grant from the California legislature.
*Emphasis on “company”, not “railroad.” I don’t think they ever laid a single section of track, and it’s very likely their only goal was to get bought out by a larger company by grabbing land that other companies would want.
March 10, 2010 at 4:07 am
ajay
Made land is interesting if you’re in China – especially Hong Kong. Compare the shoreline now to the shoreline forty years ago and you can see that “waterfront” is really only a temporary condition. And while the made land in Central and Kowloon isn’t a very big proportion of the territory, it’s among the most valuable real estate in the world. If they go on at the current rate, the harbour will be closed in another forty years, because the two shores will have met in the middle…
March 10, 2010 at 7:27 pm
mr earl
Touche, Vance, re boring.
But “made” land is drained or moved land, not made. It was there, we just had to put it where we wanted it, or uncover water from it, of which there is some fair history. I defy you to manufacture dirt, however.
But no more, touche again Vance.:)
March 10, 2010 at 7:44 pm
Charlieford
“I defy you to manufacture dirt, however.”
Liz Cheney does it every day.
March 11, 2010 at 12:54 am
dave
So does my compost heap.
March 11, 2010 at 5:37 am
silbey
But “made” land is drained or moved land, not made. It was there, we just had to put it where we wanted it, or uncover water from it, of which there is some fair history. I defy you to manufacture dirt, however.
You complained about this thread being boring, and then shifted it into a discussion of manufacturing dirt?
March 11, 2010 at 5:58 am
dana
Perhaps this is simply an ingenious argument for substance monism.
March 11, 2010 at 6:26 am
andrew
When does a heap of dirt become “land”?
March 11, 2010 at 7:37 am
JPool
When you land on it. Duh.
March 11, 2010 at 8:02 am
dave
This land is my land, that land is your land, now pick it up and move it.
March 11, 2010 at 11:04 am
Vance
In support of Dana’s speculation, Google Books seems to have gotten its copy of The formation of vegetable mould through the action of worms from the Harvard philosophy department.
March 12, 2010 at 4:48 am
ajay
But “made” land is drained or moved land, not made. It was there, we just had to put it where we wanted it, or uncover water from it,
In the same vein, the Venus de Milo wasn’t “made”. It was there, the sculptor just had to remove all the surplus bits of stone from the original block of marble.
March 12, 2010 at 5:24 am
kid bitzer
you think the venus was in the same vein of marble as the block?
March 12, 2010 at 8:07 am
Erik Lund
A cardiopulmonary pun is screaming to be born. Or cut free.
March 12, 2010 at 9:16 am
Chris
If I might be permitted to distract from the sub-thread on land creation:
To advocate, in other words. the pro-advocacy types argued (as we see above, too) that not to do so leaves the field to hacks, the ignorant, the partisan. Anti-advocacy types countered that to do so embroils the entire discipline in what is inevitably partisan anyway: Instead of injecting a note of objectivity, or if not that, at least expertise and authority, into a partisan debate, the expertise of the discipline will be shrouded and overcome by its association with a partisan position, reducing the discipline’s ability to affect any such debates at all.
ISTM that in the light of hindsight, it’s clear that the anti-advocacy side missed the point. Not because their concerns were ill-founded, but because staying on your mountaintop of perfect scholastic objectivity (even if that were humanly possible, which is arguable) won’t stop the hacks and partisans from embroiling your discipline in political controversy *anyway*. At which point anyone who criticizes a hack is branded an opposing hack, whether they are or not.
Some other sciences retained their non-partisan status because what they had to say wasn’t really relevant to the topics of partisan controversy; biology didn’t even get that courtesy. But it should have been obvious all along (I say in confident hindsight) that history and economics were doomed to get dragged into the mud.
March 12, 2010 at 8:13 pm
Charlieford
Chris, you do understand I wasn’t exactly advocating anti-advocacy . . . as far as anti-advocacy goes, I’m a fervent supporter of apathy, in fact.