Becher - Artigo de História

This article was downloaded by: [Gebze Yuksek Teknoloji Enstitsu ]
On: 25 December 2014, At: 09:44

Publisher: Routledge
Informa Ltd Registered in England and Wales Registered Number: 1072954 Registered
office: Mortimer House, 37-41 Mortimer Street, London W1T 3JH, UK
Studies in Higher Education

Publication details, including instructions for authors and
subscription information:
http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/cshe20
Historians on history
a
Tony Becher
a
University of Sussex
Published online: 05 Aug 2006.
To cite this article: Tony Becher (1989) Historians on history, Studies in Higher Education, 14:3,
263-278, DOI: 10.1080/03075078912331377663
To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/03075078912331377663
PLEASE SCROLL DOWN FOR ARTICLE
Taylor & Francis makes every effort to ensure the accuracy of all the information (the
Content) contained in the publications on our platform. However, Taylor & Francis,
our agents, and our licensors make no representations or warranties whatsoever as to
the accuracy, completeness, or suitability for any purpose of the Content. Any opinions
and views expressed in this publication are the opinions and views of the authors,
and are not the views of or endorsed by Taylor & Francis. The accuracy of the Content
should not be relied upon and should be independently verified with primary sources
of information. Taylor and Francis shall not be liable for any losses, actions, claims,
proceedings, demands, costs, expenses, damages, and other liabilities whatsoever or
howsoever caused arising directly or indirectly in connection with, in relation to or arising
out of the use of the Content.
This article may be used for research, teaching, and private study purposes. Any
substantial or systematic reproduction, redistribution, reselling, loan, sub-licensing,
systematic supply, or distribution in any form to anyone is expressly forbidden. Terms &
Conditions of access and use can be found at http://www.tandfonline.com/page/terms-
and-conditions
Studies in Higher Education Volume 14, No. 3, 1989 263
Historians on History
TONY BECHER
University of Sussex
Downloaded by [Gebze Yuksek Teknoloji Enstitsu ] at 09:44 25 December 2014
ABSTRACT This paper offers an ethnographic account of the community of professional

historians. It seeks, on the basis of interviews with key informants, to construct a picture of
what history is like as a discipline; what special features of its epistemology help to differentiate
it from other disciplines; and what characterises the profession itself in terms of its career
structure, value system and preferred modes of communication. In conclusion, an attempt is
made to identify the historian's distinctive world-view.
Introduction
Relatively little has been done in the way of depicting academic cultures. One possible
approach is to undertake a broad questionnaire-based enquiry involving a large sample of
respondents, along the lines of the well-known 1971 study of The British Academics by
Halsey & Trow. Another approach, very different in style, is to engage in closely-detailed
ethnographic research into a particular sub-group, as in the classic 1961 portrayal of the
working lives of medical students, Boys in White, by Becket et al. The first of these gains in
comprehensiveness of coverage what it loses in depth; the second has the obverse strengths
and weaknesses. But there is also a strategy which lies somewhere between the two,
involving a less subtantial time investment than a fully anthropological immersion in the
culture concerned, but offering a rather closer and perhaps more subtle perspective than a
postal survey is able to do. An excellent recent example of the genre is offered by Colin
Evans's Language People (1988), though this comes quite close to participant observation
since the author is himself a member of the community under scrutiny.
In attempting to understand something of the social and epistemological variety of
different disciplines, I decided to undertake a series of semi-structured, in-depth interviews
with practitioners in a number of subject areas. Among them, history seemed to me to
provide an intriguing case study. The account which follows offers the harvest of my
enquiries in this field. Because it is confined to a relatively small number of respondents and
seeks only to represent their individual and collective views on the subject, a critical reader
will be able to identify many significant issues which are not addressed. Nor can the analysis
pretend to greater authenticity than any such modest piece of research can yield. But I hope
it may nevertheless be of relevance not only to those with a particular interest in the subject
but also to those fellow-researchers in higher education who are curious to know what, if
anything, can be gained from 'intermediate research technology' of such a kind.
This exploration of various aspects of their discipline is based on the testimony of 20
university historians distributed between three institutions: the University of Exeter,
University College London and the University of California at Berkeley (the results of two
pilot interviews at the University of Sussex have also been taken into consideration). The
average length of the interviews was about 1.5 hours. The historians concerned were at
264 T. Becher
different stages in their careers, from doctoral students to senior professors. Six of them
were women; the age spread, more by accident than design, was fairly even--five junior, six
senior, and nine distributed through the broad middle range. It should be borne in mind that
they were talking to an outsider to the subject, and that the analysis, interpretation and
subsequent synthesis of their remarks have been carried out by the same outsider. It should
also be noted that there was no opportunity, within the scope of the study, to match belief
and assertion against actual practice.
All the major points in the text which follows have been independently corroborated by
three or more people. Although many statements on points of detail are based on the
evidence of a single witness, the text as a whole has been subject to a further stage of
validation. A preliminary draft was circulated with a request for critical comment to all who
took part in the initial interviews. Twelve out of 20 replied (most of whom had no
substantial reservation to make). Their many suggested amendments of matters of fact or
interpretation have, where possible, been incorporated into the text or included as qualifying
footnotes (the term 'commentator' is used to distinguish the origin of this written comment,
the terms 'respondent' or 'interviewee' being reserved for those contributing oral information
at an earlier stage). Some more fundamental issues raised in correspondence about the
original draft are examined in the concluding section of the paper.
The Nature of the Discipline

History has to do with notions of stability and change, as they manifest themselves in the
interactions between societies and between people within societies. You might say, more
simply, that history is the study of people in time: its subject matter could embrace anything
that impinges on human society. Yet despite this catholicity of coverage there is an
underlying sense of unity--historians "have something in common"; "share common
assumptions and styles of thought"; "inhabit a particular and definable world".
The disciplinary boundaries, both internal and external, are easily breached and readily
redrawn. A number of historians dislike the whole notion of dividing up history between
periods and specialisms, and consider such demarcations to be "matters of individual
psychology, not of logic". Even if fragmentation is inevitable in practice, it is held as
desirable in principle for all historians to develop interests outside their own particular field
of expertise and to sustain a high level of mutual intelligibility.
History comprises interlocking areas of interest, a continuum rather than a set of
discrete sub-disciplines. Nor are the distinctions between history and neighbouring disci-
plines seen as tidy and clear-cut. It is "almost impossible to draw the boundaries round
history": they are "potentially endless". They have been greatly extended in recent years, as
history has moved outwards to incorporate various aspects of the social sciences. From a
different perspective, one could say that history has become increasingly open to infiltration
from other disciplines: that there is even a sense in which "everyone is a historian".
The opening-up of history to ideas from economics, from political theory, from
sociology and from anthropology (as well as the development of a healthy traffic in the
opposite direction) has had far-reaching effects on the way the discipline is practised, but the
revolution has on the whole been a painless one. Perhaps understandably, people differ in
the extent to which they regard history itself as a part of social science. Some argue that it is;
some hold it unequivocally to be an arts subject; others claim it draws on the best of both.
These differences are one aspect of the ideological divisions within the community of
historians--divisions which seem only rarely to give rise to major disagreement. As one
example of how schisms are avoided, several of those interviewed pointed to the way in
Historians on History 265
which Marxist historians have become accepted and assimilated, with none of the bitter
struggles characteristic of sociology and political science in the 1960s and 1970s. Even the
recent period of tension between social and intellectual historians in the USA, though giving
rise to some acrimony, was localised in its effects. What is possibly a more fundamental
source of dissension than any of these--the distinction between quantitative and non-
quantitative approaches to history--will be discussed further below. By and large, however,
"there are no great issues dividing history at the moment--it's rather a dull period"; "it's a
time of fruitful fusion, but it's sad that the passion seems to have gone". Perhaps, as one
respondent speculated, the absence of major controversy stems from "a lack of self-
definition": the very open-endedness of the subject's definition makes it capable of being all
things to all people.

But if history as a discipline is characterised by internal unity and external openness,
the way that discpline is interpreted in practice will vary over both time and space. Not only
is it evident that history as written in the 1980s looks very different from the history of 100
years ago: it is also plain that, among historians of today, the French conception of history is
very different from the American, and that British (especially Oxbridge) historians have a
style of thought characteristically distinct from that, say, of their German counterparts. T o
some extent these contrasts may reflect aspects of the broader national cultures in question;
but they may also in part derive from divergent institutional patterns--for example, US
historians tend to have had a broad disciplinary background as undergraduates, opening up a
variety of methodological approaches; the American tenure system also creates more
pressure for publication and recognition than is the case in Britain.
Epistemological Issues
The historian's task is "to look for written or physical traces from past ages and create an
intellectual edifice on these foundations". As a form of knowledge history is differentiated
from a number of others because of its prime concern with "understanding how things came
about" rather than with "producing solutions to problems". Perhaps related to this, the
historian's methods are "rooted in evidence, not based on theories". Historians tend to be
wary of the theoretical frameworks of the social sciences, though some also envy the latter
their stronger grounding in theory and regret that "history has sources but no methods". It
is, one respondent explained, "a matter of applying the rules of everyday life"; another took
it to be "largely a matter of common sense--it's easier to answer specific questions about
methodology than to talk about historical method in general". Arguments tend to be
conducted in substantive rather than structural terms: people are quite prepared to quarrel
about the evidence, but there are seldom major disputes about methodology.
In one view, this brands historians as "methodologically naive"--a view contested as
unfair at a time when, according to another of those interviewed, methodological questions
loom large within the discipline. But whatever the doubts about general methodology,
historians are by no means lacking in particular techniques. Some areas call for a variety of
specialised skills, whether economic, linguistic or technical and specific. Historians tend, in
this connection, to see themselves as 'jacks of all trades' and to view other relevant
disciplines as ancillaries and instruments. They have to be ready, whenever occasion
demands, to master a new set of tools for extracting, handling or interpreting historical
evidence. Even if academics in a number of other disciplines would expect to do the same,
the range of techniques in history seems wider, and their incidence of application higher,
than in most fields of enquiry.
The two main epistemological problems in history (and perhaps they reflect the
266 T. Becher
historian's overriding concern with source materials) are, first that one can never be in
command of all the evidence, and secondly that one often cannot establish how reliable the
available evidence is. In the study of some periods the historian has to cope with fragmentary
and inadequate material, and to work at least in part on hunch. For other periods--and
particularly contemporary history--the difficulties arise from an excess rather than a dearth
of data. Both situations leave room for ambiguity and call for skilful interpretation. It is
essential that this interpretation should be linked very closely to the evidence and that it
should at the same time transcend and illuminate it. The exact nature of the relationship is
not easy to describe. There is no virtue in being "a mere fact-grubber"; but, equally,
speculation inadequately supported by evidence cannot be regarded as serious history ("the
social scientists' arguments often seem very loosely related to the facts"). One respondent
spoke of looking for "a pattern in the evidence, a pattern that changes its form as the
exploration progresses"; echoing this, another spoke of historical reasoning as "a matter of
hard patterning and complex interpreting". A commentator took up and developed the point:
"A vital part of the historian's work is holistic. His intellectual constructs extend beyond the
evidence at his disposal, but they must be fully congruent with that evidence. The sense of
control that establishes that congruence is an essential element in the art of history".
To what extent, given the indirect relationship between premises and conclusion in
most historical argument, can historical findings be said to be obiective? Because the issues
are difficult and the evidence seldom cast-iron, there is usually room for more than one
interpretation. It might seem, then, "that historical reality is always subjective, and that
there is no way to reach the final truth". But while history has no claims to being an exact
science, it is nonetheless "a rational activity, with definite ideas of plausibility, certitude and
proof". It is based on the supposition that "most historical problems have a logical
explanation, even if we may not know what it is".
Sometimes, of course, the evidence is unequivocal--or at least powerful enough to leave
no room for reasonable doubt. The rare certainties represent the less exciting aspects of
historical research. "Better a fertile error than a sterile truth", some say--though others
retort that established fact is the anchor to which historians have to link their coniectures.
Taken as a whole, however, history cannot be seen as dealing in certainties: it "never gets at
the full truth"; "few problems are finally solved". It is not cumulative in the way that, say,
mathematics and chemistry are, but is rather a matter for "debate and refinement of
perception"; "continuous reassessment and reappraisal"; "constant revisionism". It might be
argued that since each historian's experience is unique, each has to re-interpret history for
himself. Successive interpretations overlap and converge, but the important zone is the
pneumbra outside the area of agreement.
One of the historian's basic problems is the inability to escape from one's own
environment and culture. Inevitably, one sees different things, finds different patterns, from
those perceived by historians in other times and other civilisations. Nevertheless, each has to
do his or her best to counteract this handicap, cultivating "empathy and the ability to take an
imaginative leap into the world of others", seeking "insight into contemporary attitudes,"
and "entering into the assumptions of those he is studying, and understanding past events by
understanding the actors in them". Even if, in the end, one remains irrevocably caught
between one's own generation and the generation one is looking at, it would be "a poor
historian who underestimated the fineness of thought of those he is studying".
If empathy is one desirable quality in historians, imagination is another. For all the
emphasis given to the avoidance of mere speculation, it remains true that much historical
thought is imaginative in character. Intuition and vision would seem to be significant
elements in the search for a clearer understanding of very complex issues. An important
form of originality in historical research lies in portraying familiar material in a fruitful and
illuminating way--helping people to see things in a fresh perspective and encouraging them
to open up enquiry in new directions. The ability to see new connections, to "bring disparate
information together in startlingly different ways", is perhaps valued more than any other
quality. But this is not of course to deny that there are other ways of doing original work,
including the discovery and creative use of new materials and the importation and use of
productive concepts and techniques from other disciplines.
The notion of validity in history inevitably reflects some of the epistemological
characteristics noted above. Historians cannot manipulate their subject-matter in the way
that many experimental scientists can do, and there is no comparable means by which their
conclusions can be independently checked and replicated. But while proof in this sense is out
of the question, there are a variety of other, less direct, controls on validity. One check is in
terms of what is (at any given time) deemed to be relevant evidence: the kinds of sources
used, and the extent to which these are seen by historians at large as reliable or suspect. It is
also possible for the discerning critic to evaluate a writer's own integrity--"the quality of
candour usually comes through". The passage of time is itself an important control, in that
as work continues certain ideas are disproved or shown to be implausible. The profession
exercises a rough-and-ready scrutiny of new claims through the standard procedures of
criticism and review: the citation of relevant works by other authors is an important part of
this process. Such assessment takes place in a context in which "notions of validity are based
on training and experience"--over the years one acquires "a sense of historical judgement
which is far from being merely subjective".
The incorporation of new types of sources into historical research mentioned above has,
in the words of one respondent, "bitten deeply into the paradigm" of the discipline [1]. The
use of data from the social sciences has stimulated "a new approach to the study of society as
a whole, as against the narrower hierarchical history". Admittedly, some branches of the
subject have long been open to social and economic considerations--mediaeval history, with
its relative paucity of documentary data, has perforce had to draw on a wide diversity of
sources, including archaeological evidence. In other areas, the development of oral history,
alongside the growing use of ideas and evidence from anthropology, has opened up "an
exciting field for exploration". The range of admissible evidence in historical research would
seem to have grown dramatically, even if history has remained impervious to any methodolo-
gical domination by the social sciences. The wider approach is exemplified in the 'total
history' movement, and in particular in the work of the French Annales school. The
Annalistes" writings, which place no prior restrictions on the sources of evidence or on the
disciplinary perspectives they employ, have had some significant impact in the UK, though
their influence on US historians appears to have been more limited.
A vitally important line has to be drawn in historical writing between being doctrinaire
and being committed. Commitment--in the sense of operating within some clear framework
of values--is entirely permissible. Some would argue it to be inevitable, though there is a
particular school of thought characterised by "a kind of disengagement, in which you pack
your moral commitment in your kit-bag and see the world as a game". This suppression of
the historian's own opinions can sometimes help in "according respect to the past" (for
example~ researches into the occult might be readily dismissed in twentieth century terms,
but it is the historian's task to see why occultism was practised by earlier generations and
why it made sense at the time). Nevertheless, it is partly personal experience that enables
the historian to interpet the phenomena he or she is studying; and "personal values tend to
show up--sometimes unconsciously--in most history which is of any interest". Hence,
perhaps, the move towards an overt declaration of one's own stance.
268 T. Becher
"It is quite acceptable to have your own views and argue that they are confirmed by the
past; what is emphatically not acceptable is to have your own views and let them impose a
pattern on the past". The same criteria have to be applied to all the evidence and not merely
to that which suits the purpose in hand: "one can't change the rules in relation to things
which one personally likes or dislikes". There seems a clear enough consensus here to signal
a tribal taboo on the use of history to serve ideological purposes [2]. Respondents spoke in
strong condemnation of "distorting evidence to fit preconceptions"; "subverting conclusions
to preach a particular doctrine"; "manipulating one's subject-matter to suit one's own ends";
"prostituting history by winnowing out support for some particular belief". Integrity
demands a constant search for evidence which goes against one's own preferred interpreta-
tion. It is this above all which marks the difference between "good and bad history".
The logic of historical enquiry is usefully illuminated by the terms of appraisal common
among historians. "Scholarly" and "original" mark qualities which are strongly valued but
difficult in their achievement. Other forms of approbation tend to be somewhat muscular in
tone: "rigorous", "stimulating", "masterly" and the like. Terms of condemnation designate
weaknesses it is easy to fall into. The worst that can be said of a piece of work is that it is
"trivialising" or "thin"--in the sense that the evidence is inadequately deployed and fails to
relate closely enough to the conclusion. To designate an argument as "well researched" or
"sound" is to damn with faint praise, in that these are both essential requirements of any
worthwhile piece of research (to say that someone is "a sound individual" is, however, a
clear sign of approval). Stylistic judgements are frequently made: it is unacceptable to
produce material which is "jargon-ridden" or "sloppy in style", while something which is
"well-written" is highly praiseworthy. "Biased" is a seldom-used term because "it is taken
for granted that every historian is biased in one way or another".
Particularity, Generality and Quantification

One characteristic which marks off history from many neighbouring disciplines in the social
sciences is the limited scope historical argument affords for generalisation. The historian's
findings--unlike, say, the sociologist's--are not expected to be generalisable. "Historians do
not seek for universal truths, but rather for an insight into how particular situations arose";
"history offers few abstractions which straddle time and place". It can indeed be "dangerous
to extrapolate from the particular to the general"--there is sometimes a strong temptation to
try to argue a case by citing a single interesting incident. Certain reservations, however, need
to be registered here. First, history has not always been seen in such a light: the "retreat to
specificity" is of fairly recent origin. Secondly, the Marxist approach to history offers an
apparent exception to the avoidance of generalisation--though its implications could be held
to be so broad as to have little predictive relevance. Thirdly (and perhaps most important),
some would contend that the particularity of historical findings is overplayed--the great
historians have always been prepared to make general statements. Indeed, some would say
that "every historian has to generalise", or at least to take an interest in general phenomena.
History does after all deal with concepts and understandings which are relevant to more than
one society or period. "That historians are primarily concerned.., to show how one
revolution, say, differs from another, is no bar to a general understanding of revolutions."
But allowing for such considerations, it remains true that no historical situation recurs.
"The historian is always, of necessity, dealing with a unique set of events", and the basic
problem is "to relate isolated pieces of information to one another, fitting them together in
aU their spikiness rather than forcing them into a tidy pattern". There is a powerful sense in
which "specificity is historicity"--hence the tendency among historians to illuminate a single
case rather than to generalise from it. "Generalisation", one respondent explained, "could
well damage the evidence by not using it properly". But off duty, historians may allow
themselves to be less guarded--"you can speculate quite openly in conversation, and draw
contrasts as you will"; "historians are as ready as anyone else to pontificate on issues outside
their own competence". And even in their more serious moments, people seek for some
common pattern into which to fit their ideas: "the need for concordance is strong".
If historians are loath to bridge the epistemological gulf between particular pieces of
evidence and general conclusions, they are equally reserved about the use of statistical and
other numerical data. At its best, quantification can make a positive contribution in the form
of applied scientific techniques (such as radio-carbon dating) and new forms of computer
use (allowing for the sophisticated analysis of numerical information). But on the whole,
"though quantification is attractive in principle, it is dubious in practice": there is usually a
paucity of relevant data. At a more fundamental level, one may take the view that historical
reality is holistic, not atomistic: "it can't simply be broken into little pieces and added
together again", "yards of figures are no substitute for the careful use of example and
counter- example ".
The underlying antagonism became apparent in parenthetical comment: "pointless
quantitative history"; "the pretentiousness of quantification"; "I avoid the measuring
crowd". More directly, it was remarked that "quantifiers seldom come up with anything
interesting, and have very little relevance to the philosophical end of history"; and that "the
development of quantitative history has been controversial, giving rise to personal antago-
nisms and sometimes to savage attacks". Such deviants, it would seem, put themselves
"outside the covenant of gentlemanliness". There are, in contrast, those who would claim
that "the application of statistical techniques has produced a great yield", especially in
economic, social and demographic history. But it is one thing to "make effective use of
demographic material at the micro level", and quite another to "use sophisticated statistical
tools on fragile and shaky historical data, and draw far-reaching conclusions as a result". On
the whole, "historians feel they should stick with concepts rather than meddle with
statistics."
In this context the economic historians stand apart--"they regard themselves as a
separate breed". When scrutinised more closely, however, internal tensions appear. On the
one hand are the traditionalists, the economic historians, with a "solid training based on a
sound arithmetical input". They are "brothers rather than cousins" because they think like
historians rather than social scientists: they make careful use of the existing evidence, adopt
a largely descriptive approach and avoid mathematical elaboration. On the other hand are the
modernists, the economic historians: "hard-nosed, tough-minded and conceptually oriented".
They are "cousins rather than brothers" because they think like social scientists and go in for
econometric techniques and models.
There is a feeling that "modern econometrics tends to count things that don't exist";
that as an approach, it has "taken a beating". More generally, "models may be useful in
raising questions, but they have no explanatory value". Their use in history ("as against
traditional pragmatism") is a source of doubt, discomfort, or even hostility. The hostility is
at its sharpest in relation to counterfactual history--the attempt scientifically to explore
questions of the form "what would have happened i f . . . ?" This move towards the
mathematical modelling of hypothetical situations in the past "brings out clearly the
differences in ideology between history and science". Its "questions are impossible to
answer; there are far too many variables to take into account". "The models may be
intellectually interesting, but they make the subject very a r i d . . , you soon get led into
problems of measurement in never-never land". The general view is that the econometric
270 T. Becher
approach has yielded relatively little; it has also made "very little impact"; one might even
say "as a movement, it's dead".
Even if there is a broad sense in which history may be held to be a science
(Wissenschaft), it is clearly distinct from the experimental sciences. "Its methods of
reasoning are different; there is not the same possibility of separating out and varying
particular factors; the causal connections are quite different as well". "The certainties are
less clear-cut, the modes of argument less precise". There is a sense in which the available
evidence seems typically less comprehensive, and in some measure less direct. History, like
archaeology, is "an uncompromisingly humanistic subject which uses some scientific tech-
niques". The earlier hopes of the positivists were to promote history into a "hard empirical
science"--but "that was a kind of innocence". More recently, there has been "a discrediting
of scientism and the replacement of it by a more relativistic vision". There seems little to be
said for "pseudo-scientific history". (But it was also remarked, in this context, that
"historians usually have a very archaic concept of what a science is".)
H i s t o r y as a P r o f e s s i o n
Over the post-war years, the community of academic historians has grown substantially.
This has had certain (perhaps predictable) consequences. In the first place "it has become
harder to get away with folly". One's colleagues are more critical than those of earlier
generations and set higher standards. Entry requirements have become more rigorous. Where
once a doctorate was a desirable qualification, it has now become "more or less obligatory".
The expected level of doctoral work has also risen over time, so that many young historians
fail to complete their dissertations within three years and have to continue with them part-
time or drop out of the running. The "growing professionalism" of history has in its turn led
the subject to become more balkanised into distinct specialisms. In practice there is less
cross-fertilisation of ideas between different fields than most people would in principle
consider desirable. There is also relatively little mobility between history and its neighbour-
ing disciplines. Some economists have made a useful contribution to economic history, and
an occasional scientist has made his mark as a historian of science, but in general outsiders
are not accepted into the fold. Two cases were reported of historians who moved into
anthropological research, but again they were considered very much the exception.
Accompanying this trend towards professionalisation, there has been a move away from
traditional--for the most part publicly-accessible--subject-matter towards more specialised
topics with a technical expertise and a mystifying jargon of their own, or borrowed from the
social sciences. The division between professionals and amateurs has, in the view of some
respondents, become more pronounced as the subject itself has become more complicated.
The "passive amateurs"--the lay readers of history--find a growing proportion of scholarly
works too narrow in coverage or too difficult to follow. The "active amateurs"--the spare-
time antiquarians, archivists and local historians--show themselves up as being "short on
context and blind to the larger problems"; they are "less experienced and self-conscious, less
aware of the limits and messiness of the raw materials"; they "lack current awareness and
are not well read". They do not have "the professional's experienced judgement of source
material, or his skill at ferreting out data". Nevertheless they may be able, through their own
specialised knowledge of another discipline, to throw light on material which would
otherwise be inaccessible to historical scholarship.
It is "much worse to be a populariser than it is to be an amateur". A suggested case in
point is Antonia Fraser. According to one respondent, she is "a biographer--almost a
novelist. She doesn't attempt to discover new things but only to set out a coherent story.
People like this usually write in too many centuries". A second respondent took a less
charitable view, seeing her as "a trivialiser and over-personaliser. Her book about Charles I
tells the reader nothing about the period, its politics, or the way society worked. It ignores
other relevant writings about the period. It is bogus history". Nonetheless, such popular
writers are "useful to the profession in creating an interest in history"; and "serious
academic historians may well envy their knack of clarification". This touches on "a curious
ambivalence: you half hope, when you write something, that it will be a private treasure, held
in esteem by your peers. It's disconcerting if more people than you had expected actually
understand what you have written. On the other hand, most historians would give a lot to
reach a wide--though preferably a discerning--public'.
Learning to be a professional historian involves a mixture of training and apprenti-

ceship, with the emphasis in favour of the latter. In some areas of history, it is essential to
acquire certain specialised techniques (such as "palaeography and diplomatic"), calling for
"a carefully-sequenced, rational approach"; and everyone, regardless of topic, has to learn
how to be careful and precise, as well as how to present conclusions in a scholarly form. But
many of the important qualities are learnt "on the job"; "by precept and example"; "by
having your work criticised, rather than being provided with a kitbag of tools". Such learning
takes time: "the business of acquiring sound judgement goes on well into your career--your
PhD training merely takes you into your first job".
In general, relationships between doctoral students and their supervisors are easy and
informal. One of the students interviewed remarked on his "sense of independence and well-
being--my supervisor guides me with a light touch". A doctoral supervisor made a cognate
point by describing students in history as "semi-independent, working with and not for their
supervisors". In direct contrast with some scientific disciplines, it is the students rather than
the supervisors who are called upon to choose their research topics [3]; and there is no
expectation that supervisors should claim shared authorship of students' published papers.
The difference also extends to the employment of research assistants as "slave labour".
Historians take on research assistance much more rarely than scientists do: there is "not
much of a tradition of hired hands and dogsbodies". Although there is perhaps a growing
trend in this direction, "the profession as a whole dislikes the tendency, because historians
don't like using people". Another way of making the point is to say that history has no
tradition of teamwork.
There is still a certain amount of patronage within the profession, though it is more
noticeable in some specialisms than others. However, in the UK and USA at least (less so in
France) the system is breaking down. "The patronage networks have to serve too many
clients; in consequence, sponsorship gives way to meritocracy". Nevertheless, the practice
survives in part because "historians are liable to look back nostalgically to their student days
and say 'X was a great teacher--I owe everything to him' ". Moreover, "it remains true that
the best scholars tend to attract the best students (though it soon gets known if they are poor
judges of their proteg&' abilities). If you are a student of one of these leading figures, you
may well have some advantage of his or her patronage in getting your first job--though
seldom beyond that". You are expected to show your independence, to stand on your own
feet, as soon as you attain professional status. "A pupil who is just a carbon copy of his
master is liable to be second rate--you must establish your own style". Sometimes this may
take the form of reacting against one's mentor and repudiating his or her views, though such
a practice would appear less acceptable among US historians ("rebellion of that kind would
be taken as a sign of immaturity") than among British ones.
The tenure system offers a safeguard against a continuing dependence on sponsorship:
it ensures that "once you're in you're in, and you don't have to kowtow to the bosses". As a
272 T. Becher
tenured academic "you really are on your own". From that point onwards, questions of
promotion and of professional reputation remain to be answered. The criteria for promotion
appear somewhat obscure, perhaps because they are nowhere very clearly formulated. In
prestigious institutions at least, publication is commonly held to be a very important
factor--though how much, and of what kind, will vary from one field to another. On the
whole, books carry more weight than a comparable volume of articles; "reviews, textbooks
and syntheses" count for relatively little. Other considerations may include research grants
and fellowships, but not membership of professional bodies (for British historians, Fellow-
ship of the British Academy would only be awarded long after it could play any possible part
in career advancement). "Administrative usefulness" was thought by a few respondents to
earn some credit; quality of teaching was also mentioned, though here the general view was
that the advantage gained was not commensurate with the effort expended. Many of those
interviewed remarked that, in any case, promotion in British universities was rapidly
becoming the province of only a tiny minority of those who would in more expansive times
have been judged to merit it. It could no longer be seen as a significant element in the lives
of most academic historians.
However, even lacking the intrinsic rewards which a career ladder can provide, it
remains possible to look for extrinsic satisfaction through wider professional acclaim. Those
who aspire to greatness must seek "more than mere technical proficiency; they must have the
capacity to say things outside their particular specialism; they must be more than narrow
scholars". A great historian will often have "volume of output; breadth of vision; style as
well as scholarship; and the ability to communicate, both with historians in other fields and
with the wider public". Setting the sights lower, there are also the lesser heroes and heroines,
admired within their own specialist fields but not well-known outside. In their case, "the
admiration is not uncritical: if they begin to produce shoddy work their reputation quickly
declines". The risk is always of narrowness. "People tend to box themselves off into
particular periods"; "if you become too specialised it can bias the whole of your life"; "even
quite distinguished historians can be surprisingly blinkered". T o counter this, "it is
important to know what is happening outside your own specialism, and to be aware of
current trends". It is always possible for someone who starts in one area to extend his or her
range later--especially as there seems to be no career peak beyond which a historian's
professional capability declines. In theory, anybody could get better and better at the job as
time goes on--though in practice, age does not necessarily measure distinction.
The hallmarks of achievement differ between the U K and the USA. American
historians can look to "a whole variety of prizes for distinguished books (and notably the
Pulitzer Prize); the membership of sought-after academies; the presidency of the American
Historial Society or other professional bodies". British historians, in contrast, can earn more
rapid and more widespread recognition: "there is a tradition of haute vulgarisation in Britain
which gives historians entry to the quality press and to the broadcasting media--they play a
larger public role than historians do in the States".
But perhaps the central element of the historian's professional life, more significant for
the majority than either promotion or scholarly repute, is the "ancestral notion" of the
community of scholars. One has a "strong sense of belonging" to this community--of being
"part of the same fraternity". It is not in any direct way connected with professional
societies: its workings are informal, spontaneous, not laid open to view. Historians'
associations serve a useful function in "bringing people together" and "helping one keep in
touch", but they are neither catholic enough nor sufficiently pure of purpose to qualify as
scholarly communities in their own right. Rather, the historians' profound feeling of
commonality owes its existence t o the accessibility of much historical writing to people
outside its own specialism, and the associated tradition of reading the work of historians
dealing with different times and places; but also more generally, to the notion that "fellow-
historians are allies in the pursuit of truth". It may further have "something to do with the
mythos that we're gentlemen, not arrivistes: we protect our cubs". It has a levelling effect, in
that "a doctorate entitles you to membership of the same community as professors belong
to--academic deference does not really come into it". In this connection, history is "less
hierarchical than many subjects", though that was not the case before the period of rapid
expansion in the 1960s. The lack of hierarchy may be reinforced by the absence of large
research teams and by the "limited support facilities and very limited opportunities for
control enjoyed by the head of a history department, as compared with any of the tycoons in
a large science department".

Undergraduate teaching is another constituent part of the profession of history, though
since they were not invited specifically to comment on it, only a minority of respondents
chose to do so. O f those who did, most welcomed the broadening element provided by the
requirement to teach outside their specialism, and remarked on the incentive it gave to keep
in touch with new developments. A number spoke of the sense of enjoyment when teaching
went well, and of the countervailing frustration when it did not. Only one of those
interviewed saw it as central to the academic enterprise, suggesting that many historians
"seem to start with an interest in teaching, and then choose history as a good potential
expression of this interest. History gives you a chance to explore your personal values and to
decide for yourself what your students most need to learn".
The Practice of History
How do historians communicate with one another? "The tradition is a written rather than
oral one". "Conferences are not an essential mechanism for the historian". Mainly one keeps
in touch by reading peoples' published papers and books ("most history is communicated in
published form"), by corresponding with them and by bumping into them on committees, in
seminars, and at examining board meetings. The majority of those interviewed admitted to
being poor conference-goers. Nevertheless, nearly all of them identified themselves as
belonging to an "invisible college"--a network of like-minded people, often having no more
than six to a dozen members scattered across several institutions and sharing a fairly closely-
defined research concern. Such networks are usually built up on the basis of personal
contact, sustained by the exchange of written materials, and occasionally underpinned by
specialised colloquia. Among their other advantages, they "provide a useful safety valve
from colleagues in your own institution" and may well come up with practical guidance on
"where to look and what to look at; where to stay, where to eat and how to set about things".
The main archives and libraries--in Britain, the Public Record Office, the Institute of
Historical Research, the British Museum, the Bodleian Library--are places where one can
expect to meet old friends and make new contacts. In such encounters historians "tend to
gossip about their sources, about their merits and whereabouts--they talk more about the
tools of the trade than the trade itself'. They "don't talk much shop"--perhaps because the
nature of the subject lies in details, so a problem cannot often be adequately defined in
conversation.
In a predominantly written culture it is perhaps unsurprising that many historians
devote a sizeable amount of time to keeping up with the relevant journals--usually a
minimum of four or five, but in some fields up to a dozen or more. It is, in one's own
writing, "professionally important to acknowledge relevant work by other people"--so it is
necessary to be fully au fait with current publications. Citation, one historian suggested
"serves a social and institutional as much as an epistemological function". It enables you to
274 T. Becher
engage in debate with other writers; it protects you from reviewers' criticisms of your failure
to acknowledge X's arguments or Y's findings; and more generally it serves as a mechanism
for preserving solidarity among historians. After all, "if we don't read them, perhaps they
won't read us". But more fundamentally, footnote references to primary and secondary
sources "give the reader a sense of interplay between data and argument--an almost literal
sense of tension as the reader's eye moves constantly between the one and the other".
Admittedly, the citation of secondary sources can "get out of hand, and become over-
elaborate". A number of the US respondents considered themselves more parsimonious in
this regard than their British counterparts.
A sizeable proportion of historical research appears in book form, which means that
"historians are not so tied to their journals as scientists are, and tend to write fewer articles".
Even so, the shortage of journal space is such that publication delays can range between a
year and three years. Clearly, "there is not the same time pressure in publishing results in
history as there is in the sciences"; "history is not a rat race". Continuing the comparison,
history is less competitive than, say, physics because there is not such a clear notion of
priority--"new issues are not so clearly defined"--and because "it is too hard to get things
right the first time". Nevertheless, competition exists: "it can manifest itself in vying for
jobs, jockeying for key positions and competing for bright students.., at a particular time,
people will be buzzing like flies around a certain archive~ and may even try to hide
documents from one another". And almost inevitably, "the competitiveness gets into the
writing". "There is a tradition of politeness in criticism of fellow historians, though
Oxbridge tends to breed a certain kind of malice." However, "one finds more and more
polemic in journals and books"; "in spite of strong sanctions in the USA against the loss of
civility, one comes across some savage critical attacks"; "historians certainly slam each other
in reviews". In so far as the edge given to controversy is sharper in America than in Britain
(and that is not a universal view), it is arguably a consequence of the anxieties over tenure
and the harder fight to establish oneself in US universities. The same phenomenon is said by
other respondents to lead to a certain blandness: "there is too much career risk in acerbity".
Grant funding, which is in some disciplines a source of competitive tension, impinges
on mainstream history hardly at all. Although a number of agencies provide some support
for individual scholarship, the major grants will usually go to promote team work on large-
scale investigations. This immediately limits the possibilities, in that only certain areas of the
subject seem to lend themselves to a team approach. In particular, demographic historians
and other quantitatively-based researchers "tend to get grants from Foundations because
they look as if they are doing scientific work". The availability of grant funds consequently
has only a marginal effect on the shape and direction of historical scholarship, as compared
with many science subjects.
The style of working tends to be solitary rather than collective: "the historian is an
individual, lonely scholar". For the most part "what is needed is a single intellect to turn
over the material.., at the end of the road, only one person--or two at most--can write an
effective book". "Ideas have to be shaped in the mind of the individual scholar from a first-
hand examination of documents, rather than from a second-hand study of other peoples'
reports". In this, history differs from the neighbouring discipline of archaeology, which has a
strong communal tradition of research. Nevertheless, within any given field there may well
be a search for a common framework (related to the need for concordance noted above).
Specialised interest groups can indeed become quite closely knit, sometimes with an
acknowledged leader. In such a case, anyone wishing to move into the specialism is wise to
write for advice and guidance to the authority in question--a practice comparable with the
use of academic gatekeepers in, for example, physics and biology.
Fashions in historical research, as in other disciplines, change over time. The discovery
or opening up of a new archive can have a powerful effect on the course of historians'
interests. But if the availability of source material is one consideration, its acceptability is
another. Thus, the growing use of material relating to contemporary social life (parish
registers, local archives and the like) means that "history has become less literary and more
social"; "narrative history is nowadays the province of the second-rate schools"; there is "a
growing distrust of the biographical tradition" [4]. Similarly, constitutional and administra-
tive history have given place to other concerns; and there has been "a noticeable shift from
ecclesiastical and political to social history".
It is far from easy to do good history--"a lot of work is merely gap-filling"; "you have
to have the ability to do more than catalogue or chronicle". "It is not enough to have good
ideas and make them look interesting: the real test is whether you can back them up, and
whether you have been sufficiently thorough". Given that history is firmly based on a
literate culture, it is perhaps surprising that one in five of those interviewed admitted to
finding no enjoyment in the business of writing. One considered it "tedious--something you
have to wrestle with"; another pronounced it difficult "because there is an inbuilt tendency
to look at everything from two sides". Only one interviewee spontaneously identified writing
as "the most exciting part of doing history". Nonetheless, considerable importance is
attached to producing readable history, painfifl as it may be to do so. "Style is vitally
important, even in the most specialised and scholarly work".
Historians as People
If it is true that history is "a way of honing the mind--of becoming initiated into human
experience", then it is perhaps to be expected that historians should see themselves as
"better read than most academics--more cultured and civilised". As one respondent said, in
mocking self-denigration, "historians are expected to live up to the Greek idea of a
gentleman, and not to become over-professional--one should be able to play the flute, but
not too well". Another saw scientists as having a slightly patronising awareness that
historians find their work unintelligible. "Their attitude reminds me of the old-style working
class consciousness. Historians, like academics in other arts subjects, tend to be more
patrician, both in attitude and recruitment--and this makes us feel slightly fraudulent about
ourselves". A number of references were made to a tradition, within the discipline, of
"civility and gentility", though one respondent suggested that this might be dying out.
Perhaps the tradition has always been less strong in the USA than in Britain: "we don't have
such suffocating good taste, though we do believe in being civil to each other" [5].
History, it was said, is a good training for management and administration. It gives
people the ability to handle complex material and argue cases deafly and convincingly.
Historians "have to learn to accommodate between their own ideals and external realities--
they are sensible people, politically (with a small p)". The pursuit of history involves "a
desire to find out, a persistence in inquiry and a patience in waiting for evidence". Those in
other disciplines generally saw historians as committed and scholarly, as pleasant and
civilised, but also as "'old-fashioned, quiet, bookish and a bit dusty" (from a physicist) and
as "fuddy-duddy in some ways" (from an academic lawyer). The subject-matter of history
came in for more critical comment, being described variously as ill-defined, uninteresting,
trivial, futile, esoteric and escapist. Engineers in particular--true to their role as the most
utilitarian of all academic tribes--were much concerned that history appeared "irrelevant to
the future".
This was a point on which historians themselves felt strongly. Almost without exception
276 T. Becher
they took the view that their discipline could not, and should not, be justified in terms of
providing an increased understanding of the future (a stand reminiscent of the comments on
extrapolation and generalisation noted earlier). Some respondents allowed that "history can
offer a general understanding of life"; others considered it a point of some importance that
"history can help you to interpret the present"; that it gives one "a better feel for what is
going on, a less narrow perspective on society". But there were also those who resisted such
claims. Is it perhaps wrong to seek for relevance at all? ,'Some historians are haunted by
doubts about the significance and social purpose of their w o r k . . , the Marxists are enviable,
because they really do believe that history matters". One respondent saw history as "under
attack--it has academic prestige but lacks money, job prospects and perceived relevance
. . . the nostalgia boom is a mixed blessing, because it equates history with leisure". Another
took the more positive view that "anyone who doubts that history is relevant to society at
large has only to look at the proportion of publishers' budgets devoted to the subject and the
number of historical books sold".
Amidst all the questioning about purpose, history offers its practitioners a great deal
that is positive and pleasurable. There is the "sense of total immersion in a very different
culture", the "chance of pursuing your own motivation, doing your own thing". There is
"the enjoyment of teaching when a student can see something in a new light, and the
memorable moment when you have got your evidence to fit together"; the feeling of "flying
on air as you make sense of your material". Perhaps above all these comes the excitement of
discovering new sources: as one graduate student put it, "opening boxes in archives.., well,
it feels like Christmas morning". Even many of the routine chores afford a welcome
relaxation (though, someone speculated, chat could be because you choose your subject on
the basis of finding its 'busy work' enjoyable). The unattractive features of the job are few.
Some people dislike marking undergraduate essays (while guiltily aware that this is an
important part of their obligations). One or two complain about the boredom of committee
work. But the most serious drawback to being a historian is one which the academic
community as a whole seems powerless to overcome: namely, the dismal lack of career
prospects today as compared with the halcyon years of the sixties and early seventies.
If one had to encapsulate the historian's world-view in a single phrase, it would
probably be that everything is more complicated than it seems. While it appears to be the
driving force behind some disciplines--notably physics and engineering--to establish that
the world is fundamentally simple, history rejoices in demonstrating and coming to terms
with complexity. Even if some historians will acknowledge the need to seek for general
patterns and for unifying truths, none will be prepared to portray any situation as being
more straightforward than the totality of the available evidence allows. But then, this last
statement is itself a generalisation which someone is bound to contest.
Concluding Comments
Most of the respondents who subsequently commented on this account took the line that it
offered a reasonable portrayal, if not of the discipline of history and the characteristics of
those who practise it, then at least of the 20 interviews conducted with historians in three
institutions. A number of responses were valuable not only in providing corrections to
factual errors and amendments to over-simplistic interpretations but also in throwing some
further light on how historians think and react.
The nine generally positive commentators used phrases suggesting that the text was
being appraised as a whole rather than criticised in fine detail (though five of the nine went
on to make constructive comments on more than a few specific points): for example "I think
it catches it well"; "I think you have got it right"; "I found it most interesting and really do
not have anything to add to it, or to quibble about"; "I was impressed by what you had made
of the interviews. There is really very little I would query in it"; and "You paid real
attention to us and made us seem civilised--a nice trick".
It was noticeable that more than half the written responses began by recording a
personal reaction, such as "I enioyed your paper very much (despite the odd shock of self-
recognition)"; "I really enjoyed reading this. I must say, incidentally, that I didn't recognise
my own remarks in it"; "I have read it with great pleasure . . . . The presentation is so
civilised--but that of course is the historian talking". Two of those who replied were
somewhat more cautious in their judgements, using closely similar phraseology: the first
wrote "I enjoyed reading it, and can't think of anything fundamental I would disagree with";
the second, "It makes interesting reading, and there is nothing with which I would
fundamentally disagree".
However, the latter commentator went on to tactfully point up a significant limitation
of this type of exercise: "Obviously a pot pourri of the views of 20 people will not command
unanimous agreement". Two further reactions were equally perceptive of weaknesses in the
approach. One hinted that the piece, though "elegant, quite beautiful", was thereby open to
the charge of providing too cosmetic a result: "You made us sound much more articulate,
verbally precise and correct of syntax than I fear we are" (this was the writer quoted above
as using the phrase "a nice trick"). The other assessment was as brief as it was damning: "It
seems to me that the operation of talking to people about what they do without looking at
what they produce is not very productive".
These are important challenges and call for some response. The absence of "unanimous
agreement" is relatively easily defended since--in common with historical writings themsel-
v e s - f e w presentations of complex subject-matter could reasonably expect to achieve a full
consensus of favourable iudgement. But the contention that the piece comprises a pot pourri
is more serious, and is not unconnected with that relating to the over-tidy impression it
offers. To create a palimpsest--or worse, a pastiche--of several different pieces of testi-
mony must almost inevitably--unless done with great skill--round-off the rough edges, iron
out the aberrations and thus fail to present the original material "in all its spikiness". What
results may be uncomfortably near to an evocation of "the average historian"--that mythical
creature which resembles no living practitioner of the art. But if the exercise is to be done at
all, I would contend that an approach along these lines nonetheless offers one possible
starting-point.
The drawbacks of a reliance on oral information, underlined in the third comment, have
to be conceded--though perhaps they are no more serious than the dependence of many
historians on the evidence available to them in written form. Within the constraints of the
enquiry it would not have been possible for me to add anything very useful in the way of an
analysis of what my informants had written; nor, given my lack of mastery of the content,
could I have attempted a critical appraisal of its qualities. But certainly, a substantially more
lengthy study, involving participant observation in one or even two history departments,
could well have yielded richer dividends. Again, I can claim no more than that what has been
attempted here comprises only the beginning of a more sustained analysis of what historians
do, what history is, and what goes to make up its special character as an academic enterprise.
Correspondence: Professor R. A. Becher, Centre for Graduate Studies in Education, Univer-

sity of Sussex, Falmer, Brighton, Sussex BN1 9RF, United Kingdom.
278 T. Becher
NOTES
[I] Another reacted against this apparent use of jargon.
[2] One commentator suggested that any such assertion needed to be qualified: "quite a lot of this is rhetoric".
[3] "A little misleading.., for one thing a student usually goes to a supervisor because of the latter's known
interest and expertise in the field where the student wants to w o r k . . , while the supervisor often takes on a
student because he knows that the latter wants to work in a field acceptable to him. Usually this sort of
understanding precedes the formal acceptance of a student".
[4] Narrative is nonetheless seen by some to remain an essential element in historical writing: "The fulfilment of a
piece of historical enquiry can be in a certain sense a loosely cooperative process, in which a synthesising mind
finally draws into an overall historical analysis the successive 'snapshots' separated in time which have been
produced by other historians". However, "The best historians find a philosophical or experiential way of
linking the past to the present, so that what is being appealed to in the reader is not only the magic of story-
telling bnt the desire to understand one's place in the general and particular scheme of things".
[5] An American commentator wrote: "I was surprised by the emphasis on gentility, niceness, gentlemanliness. I
don't find myself worrying about being genteel, and I wouldn't have thought that my colleagues did".
REFERENCES
BECKER, H.S., GEER, B. & HUGHES, E.C. (1961) Boys in White (Chicago, IlL, University of Chicago Press).
EVANS, C. (1988) Language People (Milton Keynes, Open University Press).
HALSEY, A.H. & TROW, M. (1971) The British Academics (London, Faber & Faber).

Becher - Artigo de História

Enviado por

Dados do documento

Direitos autorais

Formatos disponíveis

Compartilhar este documento

Compartilhar ou incorporar documento

Opções de compartilhamento

Você considera este documento útil?

Este conteúdo é inapropriado?

Direitos autorais:

Formatos disponíveis

Becher - Artigo de História

Enviado por

Direitos autorais:

Formatos disponíveis

This article was downloaded by: [Gebze Yuksek Teknoloji Enstitsu ]

On: 25 December 2014, At: 09:44

Studies in Higher Education

To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/03075078912331377663

PLEASE SCROLL DOWN FOR ARTICLE

ABSTRACT This paper offers an ethnographic account of the community of professional

The Nature of the Discipline

things to all people.

Particularity, Generality and Quantification

Learning to be a professional historian involves a mixture of training and apprenti-

a large science department".

Correspondence: Professor R. A. Becher, Centre for Graduate Studies in Education, Univer-

Você também pode gostar