Abstract
Historical Understanding: Past, Present, and Future gathers a collection of short essays exploring historical understanding in the Anthropocene. In light of the ongoing ecological catastrophe being inflicted on the planet, humanity's understanding of time, and therefore the past, present and future, is changing. This declaration seems to have put the editors, and in many cases the authors, of this anthology in a frenzy, resulting in a collection of confusing – albeit sometimes brilliant – contributions to the field of philosophy of history.
Is there a place for people who study the past when the future is at risk? Zoltán Boldizsár Simon, one of the editors, states in the introduction that the primary aim of the volume is to recognize and explore the variety of historical practices in these unprecedented times. To do so, the anthology is divided into three parts devoted, respectively, to the present, the future, and the past. These parts are all further divided into two sections titled ‘Historicities’ and ‘Histories’. The first is supposed to ‘explore larger temporal predicaments or wider societal relations’ (p. 9); the second is concerned with observable changes in people's contemporary practices in their relation to the past. The ‘Histories’ essays are, generally, of a higher analytical quality than the ‘Historicities’ essays. However, the truly significant essays are found in the very last section of the book. More of that later.
Simon claims that the volume does not advocate ‘particular agendas’ (p. 10). His assertion is contradicted by François Hartog, who writes in the very first essay that humanity must change in order to not give ‘in to the apocalyptic turmoil’ (p. 23). The first section forms a block of fairly strict texts in the same vein. An unsurpassed contribution in this section is Moira Pérez's, in which she deviates from other contributors’ hortative tone and discusses how groups of people are conceived of as belonging either in the past or in the future, and therefore are pronounced as having no agency in the present. The other section, composed of essays about relationships with the present in the Anthropocene, contains some interesting contributions, among them Jo Guldi's chapter on the use of artificial intelligence and algorithms in historical work. This section also includes a call by Ethan Kleinber, Joan Wallach Scott, and Gary Wilder to reform theoretical practices within the discipline of history. Unfortunately, the placement of their thought-provoking essay does not do it justice since it is a poor fit for the section's theme.
The essays in part II, concerning the future, also argue that humanity needs to alter its perception of time for the planet to survive. David J. Staley's essay, in which he discusses the common nature of contrafactual history and our perceptions of the future, stands out as an interesting read. Cornelius Holtorf's essay, meanwhile, puts forward some claims about the future that need to be unpacked further. Holtorf suggests that historians should concern themselves with periodizing the future, since certain events are ‘known to happen at some point’ and ‘some members of future generations are already alive today and can be interviewed’ (p. 174). With nationalism and fascism on the rise globally and ‘fake news’ having established itself as a commonplace term, Holtorf writes that the ‘past and future are equally material and elusive, real and imagined’ in a dangerous context (p. 168).
Historical Understanding redeems itself in Part III, which contains several incandescent takes on the presence of the past in the present. Chris Lorenz's chapter brilliantly explains and suggests improvements to Reinhart Koselleck's idea of the stratigraphic layers of time. Berber Bevernage and Kate E. Temoney's essay on truth commissions and reconciliation practices after violent conflicts is a paragon among the pieces gathered in the volume. Vanessa Agnew presents the absorbing example of the trial against a Nazi camp guard in 2016 that used Virtual Reality technology to prove that the accused must have been aware of the murders that were committed in Auschwitz-Birkenau. Additionally, Jerome de Groot makes compelling arguments as to why historians should concern themselves with issues, ethical as well as practical, regarding the increased use of DNA in historical research and related practices. These themes all show that historians can capture and analyse phenomena in the present that relate to the past in a manner that also allows them to say something significant about the texture of the present.
The anthology is characterized by its two parallel themes. The call for a change in our perception of time in order to stop the destruction of the planet shares space with attempts to explain contemporary trends in our relationship to history and the past. I sympathize with the editors’ ambition, since I recognize how this existential crisis – the impending ecological catastrophe – has affected many humanities scholars. But if this anthology is meant to be a call for action to stop the damnation of planet Earth, why hide the message in statements decipherable only to a small number of theoretically invested historians? The editors could have made two edited collections, allowing the one containing the calls for change to be presented to a popular audience, while the other one could have targeted academics within the field of the philosophy of history.
It is crucial that historians become clearer on what they can contribute, especially during difficult times. The convincing contributions to the philosophy of history made by some of the essays in Historical Understanding show that historians still have a role to play in times of crises.