Generalizations in history

Historical generalizations are often suspect: "The Renaissance encouraged innovative thinking," "The Qing state stifled independent
commercial activity," "The open frontier created a distinctively American popular culture." The problem with statements like these is
their sweep; among other things, they imply that the Renaissance, the Qing state, or American culture were essentially uniform social
realities, and they erase the forms of variation that certainly existed -- and that often constitute the most interesting of historical
discoveries.

So grand generalizations in history are problematic. But then we have to ask a different sort of question. Specifically -- what kinds of
generalizations are possible in history? If we can't answer this question constructively, then historical research loses much of its
interest and purpose. If historical knowledge were limited to statements about specific actors in concrete local circumstances, it would
have roughly the interest of a police report. Rather, the historian needs to aggregate his/her understanding of the available evidence
into statements about larger agglomerations: villages, towns, and cities; crowds, classes, and professions; assemblies, riots, and
movements. Moreover, we would like to be able to make something larger of the historian's findings -- something that sheds light on
broader social realities and trends. And each of these requires generalization: statements that extend beyond the particular instances
that are presented by the historical record.
Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie's micro-history of the tiny village of Montaillou (Montaillou: Cathars and Catholics in a French Village,
1294-1324 ) is worth considering in this context. His opening lines raise the question of generalization:
Whoever wishes to know the peasant of the old or very old regimes, does not aim at grand syntheses -- regional, national, or
continental: I think of the work of Goubert, Poitrineau, Fourquin, Fossier, Duby, Bloch ... What is always missing is the direct aspect:
the witnessing, without intermediary, how the peasant presents himself.
Le Roy Ladurie gives a treatment of the history of a very specific, small place -- a specific group of village actors in a short time
period. Their stories are told through the records of Inquisition investigations. So you might say -- it's all very particular knowledge
about this specific time and place. But if so, what makes it historically meaningful or valuable? How does it extend our historical
knowledge and imagination? Why does it have greater historical significance than an ethnographic study of the graduates of a
particular high school in rural Illinois in 1967, for example? We could imagine the latter study making for interesting reading -- the
valedictorian ended up as a small-town insurance agent, the class clown became a well-known agricultural expert at the university,
60% of the graduates still lived within 20 miles of their high school location in 40 years. But would this latter study constitute a
significant piece of "American social history"? And what more would we ask of the author of this study, in terms of relating his/her
findings to larger historical settings and contexts, before we would call it a contribution to social history?

There appear to be several different ways in which a concrete micro-study can achieve the broader significance that it needs to qualify
as a genuine contribution to historical understanding.

One possibility is that the micro-study is somehow "representative" of larger social realities at the time. One might read Montaillou as
being representative of many other remote places in fourteenth-century France -- so the description of this place might serve to
generalize to other parts of France. And what does this mean? It means, presumably, that the historian arrives at true statements about
Montaillou that are also true of other villages at other times. (Though the author's cautions against "grand synthesis" seem to count
against this use of his findings.)

Another possibility is diachronic generalization: the historian may have identified, under the "microscope" of detailed study of these
decades in Montaillou, the crossing and emergence of historical patterns and changes that themselves have broader significance over
time. The mental significance of Catholicism for rural people, for example, may have been undergoing change over a period of
centuries; we might take the Montaillou snapshot as one instant in time of the larger historical trend. (Our historian of the small town
high school class imagined above, for example, might relate her findings to changing attitudes towards universities or the government
in small-town America.)

A third possibility is at the level of concepts of behavior and agency. The historian may grapple for ways of extending his/her
vocabulary of action and thought for actors in the past; the micro-study may suggest a new set of categories in terms of which to
understand the forms of action and thought that were possible for fourteenth-century common rural people. It is certainly an important
question for the historian, to ask "why do people act as they do?" in specific historical settings -- the outposts of the Roman empire,
village India, or sixteenth-century London; and the micro-study may serve to broaden the range of answers we have for this
fundamental question. This intellectual task is not one of "generalization", but rather one of "speciation" -- specification of the broad
range of variation that is possible within historical reality.

This may all come down to a truism: there is an irresolvable tension for historians between "specification of the local" and
"generalization over trends". Too much generalization, and you lose the point of historical research -- you lose the tangible granularity
of real people and social settings in history, and the surprising singularities that historians like Le Roy Ladurie or Robert Darnton are
able to put in front of us. Too little generalization, however, and the research becomes pointless -- just a specification of a collection of
actions and outcomes for which the existing historical record happens to provide some information. We want both from good
historical writing: an adequate attention to specificity and some degree of projectability and insight into broader questions.

PROBLEMS OF HISTORY

Johan Huizinga, the Dutch historian who died in a Nazi internment camp in 1945.
All of us are surrounded by history, whether we study it or not. History lives in our social traditions, our
holidays and ceremonies, our education, our religious beliefs and practices, our political and legal systems,
even in our popular culture (movies and music frequently draw on historical events and people). One does
not need to be a qualified or practising historian to think, talk or write about the past. Anyone can have an
interest in history; anyone can read, study or discuss it. The Dutch historian Johan Huizinga, who was
imprisoned by the Nazis for his work and died in an internment camp, once wrote of history: “no other
discipline has its portals so wide open to the general public”. This is certainly true. Discussing the past and
theorising about its meaning have never been confined or restricted to classrooms, lecture theatres or
archive rooms. History is open to all who take an interest in it, regardless of their experience or
credentials.

The accessibility of history has one great advantage: intellectual freedom. Everyone is free to consider the
past and form their own conclusions. But it also has one significant disadvantage: ‘popular history’ and
‘good history’ are rarely the same thing. There is a considerable gulf between historical understanding in
the public domain and the history written by historians. The general public can be knowledgeable and
interested in the past but they seldom utilise the same standards of research and evidence as
historians. Popular history is often simplified and distorted to the point of corruption. There are several
reasons for this. People tend to value story over analysis. When considering the past, they like clear and
simple explanations. They like to assign responsibility, liability or ‘blame’. They like interesting narratives
with moral heroes, immoral culprits and satisfying endings. They also like to think their own nations and
societies as more advanced, civilised or culturally superior than others. But as good history students know,
this type of thinking is not conducive to ‘good history’. History is rarely simple or clear-cut, nor is it filled
with obvious villains or fulfilling resolutions.

This page summarises some of the problems that can cloud our thinking about the past. These problems
are more common in popular history – but historians and history students are by no means immune from
them.

Generalisation

A significant problem when thinking about history is our habit of thinking in general
terms. For all its brilliance, the human mind has a tendency to make assumptions about the whole based
on some of its parts. In philosophy, this is known as ‘inductive reasoning’ or generalisation. An example of
generalisation is the faulty statement “canaries are birds; canaries are yellow; therefore all birds are
yellow”. Needless to say, because some birds are yellow does not mean all birds are the same. Many
people are prone to forming general conclusions from just a few facts or pieces of evidence. This typically
occurs when studying large groups of people, such as a nation, society or community. Most human
populations contain enormous economic, ethnic and cultural diversity. Because of this, any conclusion
about an entire population based on a small amount of evidence is likely to be flawed. History students
should be particularly wary about forming generalised assumptions and making generalised claims. Not all
the peasants in 18th century France and 20th century Russia were poor and starving. Not all Germans in
the 1930s were Nazis or supporters of Hitler. Not all people in the Middle East are Muslim. Not all socialists
adhere to the writings of Karl Marx.
Conspiracy theories

The ‘Stonecutters’, a Simpsons parody of conspiracy theories about the Freemasons

Everyone who has read or discussed the past will know at least one or two conspiracy theories. These
fanciful stories are the gossip of history, whispered and repeated ad nauseam but seldom supported with
concrete evidence. Countless major events in history – from the crucifixion of Christ through to the
Kennedy assassination, the Moon landing and 9/11 – have fallen victim to conspiracy theories. Many of
these theories warn of secretive but powerful groups, such as Catholics, Jews, Freemasons, Communists,
the Illuminati, the G20, the Bilderberg Group, the ‘Deep State’, CIA, KGB, MI5 and Mossad. According to
conspiracy theorists, these organisations conjure and implement subversive plots to exert their control
over the world, its people and resources. Many of the world’s problems and misfortunes are laid at the feet
of these groups, who are said to operate in the shadows. The problem with conspiracy theories is that they
are, by their very definition, baseless theories. Most are based on rumour, unsubstantiated stories,
coincidence and circumstantial evidence. Many are so wacky they have only novelty value. But as the rise
of Nazism and the Holocaust demonstrate, in the right circumstances conspiracy theories can be accepted
by the mainstream and become extremely dangerous.
Myths and mythology
 An artist’s impression of Paul Revere’s much mythologised ride
Popular histories are riddled with myths: stories that are unsupported by evidence, grossly exaggerated or
entirely untrue. Most historians are aware of these myths and disregard them as either apocryphal or
untrue. Non-historians, however, are often interested in the value of a story rather than its historical
accuracy. Over time, many myths and stories have become accepted as historical fact, often because they
sound appealing or fit a particular narrative. Many myths have been repeated in print, which lends them
undeserved credibility. An example of one enduring myth is the story of Paul Revere’s ‘midnight ride’ to
warn of British troop movements in Massachusetts in April 1775. Public understanding of this event has
been shaped by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s 1860 poem, Paul Revere’s Ride, which is riddled with
historical inaccuracies about Revere’s actions and the events of that evening. As a result of this
Longfellow-inspired myth, Revere’s actions and importance to the American Revolution have been
exaggerated over time. While these distortions are not usually the work of historians, they tend to create a
popular but misleading narrative of historical events like the American Revolution. Historians and history
students must be wary of these myths. Just because a story is widely accepted as fact does not make it so.
Nationalism

Nationalist art depicting the French Revolution of 1830

Nationalism is a sentimental attachment and unquestioning loyalty to one’s own country. Sometimes this
attachment becomes so strong that the actions of one’s nation are accepted, justified and supported,
whether or not they are right. Nationalists also place the needs and interest of their nation above those of
other countries (an attitude encapsulated in a quote attributed to 19th century US politician Carl Schurz:
“My country, right or wrong”). History students should be familiar with nationalism, which has fuelled
unrest, international tension and war for centuries. But nationalism has also infected and distorted both
academic history and popular conceptions of the past. Many individuals – and sadly some historians – find
it difficult to accept or engage with criticism of their own country. Needless to say, this can lead to an
imbalanced view of the past. Sometimes nationalism can distort a nation’s understanding of its own
history by colouring or dominating historical narratives. Nationalist histories often exalt or glorify the
achievements and progress of a nation – but can also overlook, dilute or explain away its violence or
mistreatment of others. An example of this can be found in Japan, where many histories and student
textbooks simply ignore the atrocities committed by Japanese soldiers in World War II.

Nostalgia

The ‘good old days’ is often recalled as a time of simpler family values
Nostalgia is when we view the past with fondness and affection. As individuals grow older many yearn for
their past, recalling it as a time of happiness and harmony. This nostalgia, summarised in the phrase ‘the
good old days’, suggests the past to be a much better place than the present. For instance, it is often said
of the past that life was simpler and more fulfilling; people were kinder and more respectful; family values
were stronger; women looked after the family and the home; children behaved better and ‘knew their
place’. Conservative politicians are one group fond of nostalgia and nostalgic statements. In 1982, British
prime minister Margaret Thatcher harked back to the 19th century when she declared that “Victorian
values were the values when our country became great”. The problem with nostalgic claims like this is that
they are based on emotion and sentiment, not on evidence or objective study. Victorian Britain was indeed
a period of national strength, economic progress and conservative family values – but it was also a time of
gross poverty, crime, prostitution, harsh penal laws, indentured servitude, gender inequality, disparities of
wealth, low wages, intolerable working conditions, child labour, homophobic laws, religious intolerance and
colonial oppression. In most cases, the ‘good old days’ were not really that good, except for those of
wealth and privilege. Historians and history students must always be wary of nostalgic claims and value
judgements that elevate the past over the present.
‘The noble savage’

The ‘noble savage’ lives free of the corruption and affection of modern society
The ‘noble savage’ is an idea that frequently clouds our thinking about non-Western societies. According to
the concept of the ‘noble savage’, tribal people who live outside the materialism and corruption of Western
civilisation enjoy lives that are simpler, community-oriented, harmonious and fulfilling. The ‘noble savage’
is not interested in gaining territory or wealth, acquiring material goods, exploiting his neighbours or
waging war for its own sake. Instead, the ‘noble savage’ is chiefly concerned with the fundamental needs
of his community: survival and subsistence, the welfare and development of family groups, the protection
of the community, spiritual and cultural fulfilment and interaction with nature. This romantic notion has
been applied to many non-Western people, including the natives of North America, African tribal groups
and indigenous Australians. But the perception of tribal people as ‘noble savages’ is idealistic and, in most
cases, historically flawed. Very few primitive societies functioned as smoothly or harmoniously as this idea
suggests. Many tribal groups were inherently militaristic and decision making, rather than being made
communally or by wise elders, was dominated by the strong men of the tribe. Many tribal groups endured
similar problems to Western societies, including inequalities of power and wealth, control through violence,
exploitation, religious and ethnic divisions, misogyny, internecine conflict and inter-tribal wars. Some tribal
societies also practised ritual circumcision of both males and females, arranged marriages, polygamy and
polygyny, systemic rape, incest, banishment – even human sacrifice, cannibalism and genocide. Historians
and students should thoroughly research the history of any tribal society before presuming that its people
lived a peaceful and harmonious existence.

Eurocentrism

As the name suggests, ‘Eurocentrism’ is when we look at the past from a purely
European point of view. This perspective originates from the 17th and 18th centuries, when European
nations dominated the world politically and militarily, in manufacturing, trade, science and culture.
Unsurprisingly, Europeans came to see themselves and their societies as exceptional. They considered
European civilisation (sometimes more broadly referred to as Western civilisation) to be the perfect
example of human progress and development. In contrast, the native peoples of Africa, Asia and the
Americas were considered to have lived in barbarism and unlearned ignorance until they were
‘discovered’, ‘civilised’ and ‘educated’ by Europeans. This perspective gave rise to ideas like the ‘White
Man’s Burden’ (Britain) and the ‘Civilising Mission’ (France), which served to justify even more conquest
and colonisation. This arrogant Eurocentrism also came to dominate historiography and historical
understanding. The stories, contributions and achievements of non-European peoples were either ignored
or downplayed. Chinese scientific discoveries, inventions and philosophy were largely disregarded. Islamic
mathematics, medicine and literature were also trivialised. The histories of conquered peoples were
largely defined by how they responded to Europeans, either with resistance or passive acceptance.
Eurocentric histories have denied many non-European peoples their own voice while presenting a narrow
and skewed account of the past.
‘Top-down’ or ‘bottom-up’?
 These phrases describe different ways of looking at the past. Both are based on
assumptions about who and what historians should focus on. ‘Top-down histories’ tend to examine the
actions of the wealthy and powerful: kings, aristocrats, politicians, business moguls, innovators and
influential thinkers. The ‘top-down’ approach suggests that most historical change and causation is driven
by significant leaders. In contrast, ‘bottom-up’ histories look at the lives, conditions and actions of ordinary
people. The ‘bottom-up’ approach suggests that ordinary people also shape and define the past. Ordinary
people are neither passive nor completely powerless; history is not something that simply ‘happens to
them’. The ‘top-down’ and ‘bottom-up’ views of history are not necessarily problematic in themselves.
Problems only arise when our attitude to the past becomes locked into one way of thinking. Some ‘top-
down’ histories tend to cast ordinary people as the extras in a grand play; they are painted as either
passive recipients, a brainless mass or a potentially violent mob. Conversely, some ‘bottom-up’ histories
are given to demonising those with wealth and power, attacking their motives and condemning their
errors. This single-mindedness can only taint our view of the past. History is the study of people from all
classes, both the powerful and the powerless. We should approach the past with an open mind about
different groups and classes, and let the evidence convince us.
The militarisation of history

The militarisation of history is a recent phenomenon observed in some Western

countries. It refers to an increasing focus on war, wartime exploits, military leaders and soldiers when
studying, teaching and writing about the past. Australia is one nation where this process has been
observed. Many academics there claim that Australian history has been slowly militarised since the 1980s.
This process has been advanced through government policies and funding, by school curricula that focus
disproportionately on war and by nationalist literature and media coverage that links Australia’s
development, identity and nationhood with its wartime experiences. A significant focal point is the April
1915 ANZAC landing at Gallipoli, Australia’s first major military campaign as an independent nation. This
growing emphasis on Australia’s military past has boosted interest in history and given rise to ‘battlefield
tourism’ and large attendances at wartime commemorative services. Critics argue that militarising history
fuels nationalist mythologies, glorifies war and skews our historical understanding by intertwining it with
sentiment and reverence for the dead. It can also distort public understanding of national history, tying it
too closely to war and obscuring the importance of non-military leaders, conditions and events. Wars are
tumultuous and cataclysmic events that are certainly worthy of close historical study – but we should
strive to keep history and remembrance as separate as possible. Military and wartime history should be
studied in their own context and with no more reverence than any other branch of history.

 
Schaff’s fifth (and last) version of what an historical fact is pertains to the problem that is linked to the structure
(simple/complex, etc.) of facts, but more specifically, to thegnoseological and ontological status, respectively.In the gnoseological
sense, it is asked if the historical fact is really “raw,” with nosubjective anthropological influences associated with
it. Here the human mind did notcontribute anything to their existence and taken by itself, it is without of any meaning – merely
existing as a “thing in” itself. However, in the ontological sense, an historical factis the result of human interventive action of some
kind of e.g. the active role of
language,d e f i n i t i o n ,   a n d   d e f i n i t e   t h e o r y .   T h e   o n t o l o g i c a l   s t a t u s   d e m a n d s   t h a t   a n d   e v e n t ,   a n d objective
element of the past, which is selected from the infinite many other connectingfacts becomes a scientific fact within in the framework
of a given system of reference. Inthis sense a historical fact comprises of both ontological and gnoseological components because
the historian selects on the basis “of its appropriate components, the delineationof its temporal, geographical and material
limits, up to its interpretation, the cognizing subject constantly interferes, as do its manifold conditionings and, above all, the
theoryon whose basis this operation takes place.”
16
The selection and interpretation of facts did not take place arbitrarily because their connections and mutual
interconnections exist objectively. They are neither the creationnor the invention of the historian. This takes place on the basis of a
predetermined theoryand will result in different research outcomes. Carr’s claims that facts do not come to
usi n   a   “ p u r e ”   f o r m a t ,   s u p p o r t s   t h i s   s t a n d p o i n t .   B l a k e   s t a t e s   t h a t   h e   b e g i n s   w i t h   a n interpretation
that he interprets, and Marrou states that the beginning of the process commences with a “posed question.”F i n a l l y , i t
r e m a i n s t o m a k e a f e w p r o v i s i o n a l a n d c r y p t i c c o m m e n t s a b o u t t h e question of the selection of historical facts. In a
sense, selection is a gnoseological issueas a human act and is linked to the question of the material that make up an
historicalfact. Dialectically speaking, this takes place in accordance with a theory or hypothesis and influences of the
ontological status of facts. The influencing factors on selection can be summarized as human interpretation, their connections, and
manifold dependence andinteractions with other facts. Their anticipated role in society, the anthropological acts of self-will, pure
subjectivism and individual arbitrariness, and the fact that the historian isself a social product of the theory employed and
lastly, the prevailing interests of thehistorian’s epoch. At the time when A.J.P. Taylor wrote his history of the
English, hecommented that one could complain that too much evidence has been preserved
17
 towork through. Of all the facts originally started with, only a fraction will remain – “much passes away into oblivion,” some of it as
a result of human fallibility.
4. Conclusion
From time immemorial humans struggled to improve their lot – approaches anddesired outcomes in search of a better
life, however, changed. Such is true for the first Settlers and all historians regarding the Lower Albany.The search for new
perspectives
18
by historians remains work in progress. At the same time the conservation and preservation needs
 
of the past remain important aspectsof social
  praxis
, in particular, for historians. Although an attempt was made to stay clear from a philosophical debate, historical writing and
philosophy remain too closely related
16
 
  Ibid.,
 p.187.
17
Taylor, A.J.P.
  English history 1914-1945,
 p.729.
18
Webb, A. ”Why was England first? Some thoughts on the concepts of an Industrial Revolution,” in
Toposcope,
Vol. XXXII, 2001, p.22.
10

 
to ignore each other. Philosophers are greatly involved in the philosophy of history. The point was further made that “it is precisely
philosophy which is primarily responsible for the historians’ theoretical muddleheadedness.”
19
In a sense, philosophy has to do with thefuture of mankind and history with the past. There are however, problems related to
thisuncomplicated view. The critico-practical activities of the relationship between criticalsocial theory and practice
place new demands on the future role of historical research and this in turn, determines how historians will deal with
historical facts.The concept fact is varied – it is too broad, too narrow or not so “clear” as is
often perceived. It is difficult to uphold such concept because its every-day use gives rise tosemantic confusion. This confusion
has its origin in the superficial distinction betweenfact and theory. This is intolerable in empirical research.The real
complexity of a historical fact leads to the rejection of the simplistic conceptof historical facts. This is because of the infinite things
that can be termed historical factand the (un-)realistic availability of them. Even if they are available, modern
cognitivet h e o r y m a k e s i t d i f f i c u l t t o a c c e p t t h a t w e c a n d e a l d i r e c t l y w i t h f a c t s . F o r t u n a t e l y cognitive
theory is both creative and restrictive in its relation to historical facts. The intricacies surrounding the structure of
historical facts, confirms this.Just because outdated views are replaced by new paradigms, do not make them in  principle
unscientific. The same can be said of historical facts. It appears as if statementsshould replace historical facts. The reality that we
cannot escape, is the limitation of
the psychological considerations brought up when words are used. It is within such boundaries that we need to employ grammatically 
significant words into sentences toexpress a statement. These statements are the fundamentals for arguments.
Combinedarguments, constitute a particular view on something and opinions that govern the world.The future world and
historical profession have been debated for millennia from different perspectives. They relate to the relationship between
theory and practice of theh i s t o r i a n   –   t h e   p h i l o s o p h y   o f  
  praxis
,   e s s e n t i a l l y .   T o y n b e e ,   f o r   i n s t a n c e ,   w r o t e   t h a t historians “generally illustrate rather than correct the ideas of
the communities withinthey live and work.”
20
Popper however, refers to the “political hopes and utopian dreamsof future society” despite the difficulties involved in applying
renewed moral enthusiasmin a complex society. The practical irrelevance of certain facts and the reflection of
thehistorian and the influence of his cultural setting, are simply burdens of the profession.Aspects of above are futuristic. The
philosophy of 
  praxis
seeks human emancipation(future) from forces and conditions (current) that enslave mankind. In this, critical theoryof the social
sciences, including historical sciences, combines philosophy and socialsciences. It is both descriptive and normative
on three levels: it must be explanatory,  practical and normative, all at the same time. For our purposes, we have seen that