Transient Thoughts: Reflections Over the Atlantic

Somewhere over the Atlantic, cramped into an economy seat, I asked: What is history for? Why do we study it? Who should tell it? Questions that fill my mind during a 10-hour flight, in which I finish re-reading John Tosh’s “The Pursuit of History”.

In his widely renowned work, Tosh lays out the arguments for studying history and how one should go about attempting to do so. He also relays and interrogates the opinions put forward by other historians. However, what strikes me most is the encouragement Tosh gives to history to expand beyond the means of the academic circle. It must be embraced.

On page forty-five of his work, Tosh cites Richard Cobb, who goes as far as to implore that historians – not stating by which merit (academic or otherwise) – should aim to be “endlessly inquisitive and prying.” This is interesting as it reveals what historians should intend to do. They must uncover the past by peeling back layers of evidence. This helps them understand the situations, people, and places they encounter—and, most crucially, analyse.

But what does it mean to analyse the past accurately? Here, the tricky distinction between truth and plausibility becomes crucial. Tosh clarifies that historians must analyse, not restate that X happened on Y date. This is not the purpose for which the study is to be conducted. Instead, we are tasked to compile fragmentary evidence and compare it to what we know best to be accurate. You see, I have not used the word ‘true’ here. In this context, ‘true’ is almost an impossibility. We, as historians, cannot claim with absolute certainty all details of events or challenges. Instead, we deal in plausibility, not absolute truth; we weigh fragments of evidence against one another to build the most convincing account. This analysis shapes the opinions of not just a small, insular group of academics, but also filters out to the broader world. Through this delicate approach interpreting dialogue from the period and beyond, history becomes increasingly complex.

Beyond methodology, historians also debate the scope of their discipline. Some argue history is firmly within the humanities; others see it as a bridge to the social sciences. In truth, it thrives in this in-between space: narrative and analysis, evidence and empathy. It seems that each historian reaches this judgement personally based on how they utilise the historian's tool-kit of interdisciplinary theories to advance their arguments.

While these debates about the scope of history may feel abstract, they ultimately influence how anyone engages with the past—trained historians or casual observers alike.

Today, it’s easy for me to view the social interactions of past generations, cultures, and periods through the lens of accepted norms. Yet, historians must put aside their biases to illuminate what happened, why it might have happened, and how such events should be commemorated. This is not just an action that the ‘trained’ historian can conduct, though.

The 'historian' does not just have to be trained in the art: families discussing at their dining room tables can offer and exchange ideas of social practices and understanding, shaping their views now and in the future. Talking about your great-grandparents can, as such, highlight social challenges over time and test our memories. Historians have often looked to memory studies to inform their judgements on the evidence they are provided with. Romanticisation of the past can fundamentally alter the views of the individual relaying oral memories. In turn, the historian is tasked with picking these apart and testing these narratives against other evidence they have from these periods. To achieve this, they must turn to their sources.

The struggle with letters is what Tosh and others have categorised as the difference between the professional and the amateur. By this, they mean that the amateur historian, with little training, will struggle to pick apart the sources laid before them. As someone who has had to spend a lot of time at the archive recently, I certainly fall into the latter category. Source work is tedious: it demands concentration and stubborn persistence. Those who trudge through mountains of paperwork to find their gems of evidence are clearly striving to understand the past. They need to find evidence and also grieve for the things they cannot find. Amateurs and professionals alike care for the past in unique and often differently sensitive ways – and it is this that divides them.

Uncovering the past is not just a stepping stone between one society and another; it is the connectivity of human understanding through our learned and built environment throughout the ages. Perhaps, somewhere over the Atlantic, that is what I was really asking: who is history for? The answer: everyone.


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Big thanks to William for proofreading... I'll be back soon, just got to add "endlessly inquisitive and prying" (Cobb) to my CV.

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