Two
The Dilemma of Contemporary Anglo-Saxon Philosophy of History
My thesis in this essay will be that contemporary Anglo-Saxon philosophy of history is confronted with a dilemma and that the future of philosophy of history depends on the choice that is ultimately reached. I have deliberately avoided the word crisis and used the word dilemma, as the two alternative standpoints in this dilemma do not share a common past in the way that is suggested by the word crisis. Rather, two different forms of philosophy of history, each with an intellectual ancestry of its own, are opposed to each other, while having remarkably little in common. The choice will therefore be between two different tracks, rather than between the two bifurcations of one and the same track we have all been following up to now.
The two sides to the dilemma can be described in a number of different ways. One could speak simply of new philosophy of history versus traditional philosophy of history, of interpretative versus descriptivist philosophy of history, of synthetic versus analytic philosophy of history, of linguistic versus critical philosophy of history, or, as does Hans Kellner,[1] of postmodernist versus modernist philosophy of history. All these labels have their advantages and disadvantages and they all capture part of the truth. Nevertheless, for reasons that will become clear in the course of my argument, I prefer the terms narrativist philosophy of history versus epistemological philosophy of history.
Epistemological philosophy of history has always been concerned with the criteria for the truth and validity of historical descriptions and explanations; it has attempted to answer the epistemological question as to the conditions under which we are justified in believing the historian's state-
[1] H. Kellner, "Allegories of Narrative Will: Post-Structuralism and Recent Philosophy of Historical Narrativity," in Kellner, Language and Historical Representation , Madison, 1989.
ments about the past (either singular or general) to be true. Narrativist philosophy of history, on the other hand, concentrates upon the nature of the linguistic instruments historians develop for furthering our understanding of the past. Epistemological philosophy of history is concerned with the relation between historical statements and what they are about; narrativist philosophy of history tends to remain in the domain of historical language. This state of affairs should not be interpreted as though epistemological philosophy of history is "realist" and narrative philosophy of history "idealist"; one of the main objectives of narrativist philosophy of history is, in fact, to determine the distinction between the historian's language and what it is about, which is presupposed by the antithesis of realism versus idealism. This may explain just how far apart the two traditions actually are and why they are not mutually reducible. Lastly, I hasten to add that much, if not most, historiography does not have the nature of telling a story; all associations with storytelling, to which the term narrativism might give rise, should consequently be avoided. Narrativism should rather be associated with (historical) interpretation.
In the first section of this introduction, I shall describe the epistemological tradition; in section 2, the narrativist tradition; and in the last section I hope to answer the question as to which topics will afford fruitful study in the future if the narrativist approach is found preferable to its older rival.
1. Epistemological Philosophy of History
Epistemological philosophy of history has four sources. It arose from: 1) the rejection of German historism; 2) the rejection of speculative philosophies of history; 3) the attempt to offer a satisfactory reconstruction of historical explanation, based on the premises of the covering-law model (CLM); and 4) different forms of Collingwoodian hermeneutics. The epistemological nature of these four pillars of traditional Anglo-Saxon philosophy of history will be obvious to everybody. Historism and speculative systems were rejected because it was thought that they did not satisfy the epistemological criteria for historical knowledge. The CLM and Collingwoodian hermeneutics, on the other hand, attempted to discover the nature of these epistemological criteria. In the remainder of this section, I shall discuss each of these four components of the epistemological tradition and complete the picture with an assessment of their strengths and weaknesses.
Except for F. H. Bradley's The Presuppositions of Critical History (1874),[2] it might be argued that Anglo-Saxon philosophy of history as we know it
[2] See W. H. Walsh, "Bradley and Critical History," in A. Manser and G. Stock, eds., The Philosophy of F. H. Bradley , Oxford, 1984.
today begins with M. Mandelbaum's The Problem of Historical Knowledge (1938). Here, Mandelbaum even steals a march on Collingwood, although the latter had, of course, been doing a great deal of work in the field since the 1920s. The significance of Mandelbaum's first work has often been overlooked. It seems likely that the conclusions Mandelbaum reached there left indelible marks on the epistemological tradition. At the time when Mandelbaum wrote his book, German historism had drifted into the so-called "crisis of historism."[3] With his famous but usually misunderstood dictum that it is the historian's task "not to pass judgment on the past, nor to teach lessons for future use, but only to show how the past has actually been," Ranke had urged historians to consider the past only from the perspective of the past itself. An ethical relativism confusing the (time-bound) popularity of ethical norms with their (time-independent) applicability was mistakenly inferred from Ranke's injunction. Thus, when Mandelbaum found German historism in its state of self-inflicted destruction, the picture he drew of it, not surprisingly, did little to recommend historism to Anglo-Saxon philosophers. Historism became synonymous with a poor and obscure response to the challenges of ethical relativism.
The net result has been that Anglo-Saxon philosophy of history had from the very beginning isolated itself from one-and-a-half centuries of profound and penetrating thinking about the writing of history. This is even more regrettable because historism was not only the fountainhead of a sizable part of all historiography produced since the beginning of the last century but also because it possessed an awareness of the practice of history so conspicuously lacking in Anglo-Saxon philosophy of history. Owing to the intellectual disorientation in Germany after the Hitler period, German philosophers and historians—with a few exceptions, such as J. Rüsen, T. Nipperdey, or H. Lübbe[4] —felt little inclination to formulate a modern and self-assured defense of historism. Georg Iggers's book—so very well-informed and erudite—codified the communis opinio that historism had been a regrettable phase in philosophy of history which now fortunately belonged to the same past it had always studied in such an erroneous and dangerous way.[5]
It is characteristic of their almost contemptuous dismissal of German
[3] Mandelbaum described the attempts made by Simmel, Rickert, Scheler, and Troeltsch to counter relativism as a "set of failures": M. Mandelbaum, The Problem of Historical Knowledge , New York, 1938, 174. For a comprehensive German statement of the problem, see K. Heussi, Die Krisis des Historismus , Tübingen, 1932.
[4] J. Rfisen, Für eine erneuerte Historik Zur Theorie der Geschichtswissenschaft , Stuttgart-Bad Canstatt, 1976; T. Nipperdey, "Historismus und Historismuskritik heute," in Nipperdey, Die Funktion der Geschichte in unserer Zeit , Stuttgart, 1975, 82-95; H. Lübbe, Geschichtsbegriff und Geschichtsinteresse , Basel/Stuttgart, 1977.
[5] G. G. Iggers, The German Conception of History [1968], Middletown, 1984.
historism that Anglo-Saxon philosophers of history—otherwise so sensitive to fine terminological distinctions—never even bothered to make a clear distinction between historism and what Popper called historicism.[6] There is a strange story about Popper's rejection of historicism. He obviously had in mind what Walsh was to define a few years later as speculative philosophies of history.[7] What Popper criticized was mainly the pretension on the part of some speculative philosophies to predict the future by extrapolating from the past to the future in one way or another. Since historians are usually interested in the past and not in the future, Popper's criticism did not succeed in presenting speculative philosophies as an illegitimate form of what historians legitimately try to do. Not only did the historicists' claim that they could interpret the past in a superior way survive Popper's onslaught relatively unscathed, but it has even been shown by B. T. Wilkins in his detailed analysis of the last chapter of Popper's The Open Society and Its Enemies that Popper actually believed speculative systems to function in historiography as "searchlight theories" and that they are therefore indispensable for all historical interpretation.[8] This idea was to be elaborated on with vigor and perspicacity by Fain and Munz.
Another strategy in the attack on speculative systems has been to accuse them of being metaphysical. Speculative systems, it was argued, cannot be tested in the way "ordinary" historical interpretations of the past can be tested. Marx's claim that all history is the history of the class struggle is as unverifiable as its equally metaphysical counterpart that all history is the history of class cooperation. However, one can agree with Walsh that both speculative systems and "ordinary" historiography attempt to define "the essence" of part of the past and therefore cannot be distinguished one from the other by means of criteria which distinguish metaphysical claims to knowledge from verifiable ones.[9] Once again, though philosophers tried to reject speculative systems, they could not find conclusive arguments against them.
It is therefore not surprising that the failure to discredit speculative systems effectively formed one of the first cracks in epistemological philosophy of history. As early as 1972—when the CLM still reigned supreme in Anglo-Saxon philosophy of history—Fain made an ingenious attack on the Humean notion of causality underlying most of the arguments in favor of the CLM.[10] He pointed out that, contrary to Hume's theory of causality, in historiography the relation between what is called a cause and what is
[6] See the introduction to K. R. Popper, The Poverty of Historicism , London, 1957.
[7] W. H. Walsh, An Introduction to Philosophy of History [1951], London, 1967, 16.
[8] B. T. Wilkins, Has History Any Meaning ? Hassocks, 1978.
[9] See W. H. Walsh, Metaphysics , London, 1963, 172ff.
[10] H. Fain, Between Philosophy and History , Princeton, 1970.
called its consequence is not external but internal. Apart from purely formal conditions, history also has its material requirements regarding what is to be counted as a cause. Something that fits in the CLM is often not considered by historians to be an acceptable cause. According to Fain, speculative systems define these material requirements. They identify in the historical past a number of layers of historical events and phenomena having the same ontological nature; and having the same ontological nature makes events causally relatable. It did not become clear from Fain's book, however, whether the guidance provided by speculative systems on our journey through the past should be seen as an addition to the Humean causal model or as a replacement for it. In a very readable book, Munz has developed ideas very similar to those of Fain, although he strove quite explicitly for a reconciliation between speculative philosophy and the CLM.[11] The final outcome of the debate has been that we look at speculative systems in the way we look at extramarital sex: it is practiced by many, is supposed to be both natural and exciting, but is nevertheless not exactly according to the proper rules.
This, however, has not been the central issue. The debate in epistemological philosophy of history has always been dominated by the controversy between the adherents of the CLM and the defenders of the legacy left by Collingwood. In the course of my exposition, it will become clear that, contrary to appearances, the two parties have more in common than they have separating them. It is ironic that the origins of the debate, as well as its justification, are found outside philosophy of history proper. This will become clear if we imagine a list of academic disciplines, arranged according to the ease with which they fit the positivist scientific model (I use the term positivist here in a general, untechnical sense). At the top of the list we shall find (theoretical) physics, then chemistry, biology, geology, the social sciences (starting with economics), and—finally at the end of the list—we come to history. The general background to the debate between the CLM advocates and the Collingwoodians has always been the question as to whether—from a methodological point of view—there is a point, as one moves down the list, at which things really become quite different. In other words, it was not historiography, per se, but the thesis of the unity of science that was the real issue in the debate. Not surprisingly, philosophers of a positivist bent who accepted this thesis found in history a marvelous challenge to their ingenuity. It was believed that if the scientific nature of historiography could even be demonstrated (by declaring one CLM-variant or another valid for historiography), the positivist's claim as to the unity of all scientific and rational inquiry would have been substantiated. Consequently, a great number of philosophers, most
[11] P. Munz, The Shapes of Time , Middletown, 1977.
of them interested in history not so much for its own sake but because of its quality as a peculiar fringe area, pounced upon the problem of historical explanation in the attempt to adapt it to the requirements of the CLM.
Strangely enough, even from the point of view of positivist philosophy of science, the battleground for the controversy had been chosen in such a way that the philosophical significance of the debate could never be more than marginal. Philosophers of science, whether they were neopositivists, adherents of Popper, of Kuhn, or of whatever other philosophical denomination one might think of, were never interested in explanation as such but in theory and concept formation. Nevertheless, during the CLM debate it was rarely, if ever, asked whether being in conformity with the CLM would in itself be sufficient to elevate history to the status of a science; nor was it asked whether something analogous to theory and concept formation might not also be found in historiography. Raising the latter question would have advanced the birth of the narrativist tradition in philosophy of history by some twenty years. No doubt, the fact that the controversy between the CLM proponents and the Collingwoodians naturally centered on the not very illuminating problem of the existence of covering laws prevented a more timely "takeoff" of the narrativist approach.
Nevertheless, the CLM debate has been well worthwhile, if only because its apparent lack of resolution made philosophers of history aware of a number of unsuspected characteristics of historiography. There were even positive results. At the time of the debate—and this was surely no coincidence—both historians and philosophers of history[12] advocated a rapprochement between history and the social sciences. Suggestions like those of Joynt and Rescher[13] that history should be seen as a kind of applied science and the historian as a "consumer" rather than as a "producer" of socioscientific laws placed the CLM in an optimal position to mediate between history and the social sciences. Conrad and Meyer's famous article in 1957 on the relation between economic theory and economic history[l4] —generally regarded as having triggered the New Economic History—is a striking illustration of the fruitfulness of the CLM for
[12] Most influential has been D. S. Landes and C. Tilly, History as Social Science , London, 1973; the relation between history and the social sciences has become the most hotly debated topic in German philosophy of history.
[13] C. B. Joynt and N. Rescher, "The Problem of Uniqueness in History," History and Theory 1 0960): 158; and in G. H. Nadel, ed., Studies in the Philosophy of History , New York, 1965, 7. The locus classicus of the CLM is, of course, C. G. Hempel, "The Function of General Laws in History," Journal of Philosophy 39 (1942). For an exposition of the statistical variant of the CLM, see C. G. Hempel, Aspects of Scientific Explanation , New York, 1968, 380ff.
[14] A. H. Conrad and J. R. Meyer, "Economic Theory, Statistical Inference, and Economic History," in A. J. Conrad and J. R. Meyer, eds., The Economics of Slavery , Chicago, 1964, 3-30.
actual historical practice. Some form of CLM is clearly presupposed by both counterfactual analysis and model building in economic history.[15]
Within the epistemological tradition, the CLM has been attacked from both the "inside" and the "outside." CLM defenders themselves were quick to recognize that there was little in actual historical practice that was in accordance with the requirements of the CLM. Moreover, it proved depressingly difficult to produce a historical law which was both valid and interesting. To meet this problem, a number of statistical-inductive variants of the original nomothetic-deductive CLM were developed. But, even then, difficulties remained. It could be argued that M. Scriven's and M. White's proposal to reduce the role of covering laws to a mere justification of the historian's choice of a specific event as a cause, instead of that of a general premise in a deductive argument, has been the most successful strategy in the history of the CLM and its subsequent metamorphoses in refuting the charge of empty schematism and inapplicability.[16]
But most of the objections to the CLM came from the disciples Collingwood won some twenty years after his premature death. Henceforth, when referring to this tradition, I shall use the term analytical hermeneutics, which has been suggested by F. Olafson. A short terminological digression is in order here. It is useful to distinguish between a German (or continental) hermenutical tradition, from Schleiermacher to Gadamer or Derrida—and beyond—and Anglo-Saxon hermeneutics, from Collingwood on.[17] The former has as its paradigm the interpretation of texts (preferably biblical, juridical, or literary), and the latter the explanation of intentional human action. It must be emphasized that the aims of these two forms of hermeneutics are quite different: German hermeneutics tends to see the past (that is, the text) as something given and urges us to take a step back, as it were, in order to find out about its significance; Anglo-Saxon hermeneutics moves in exactly the opposite direction, by urging us to try to discover new historical data (that is, the intentions behind human action). German hermeneutics wants us to choose a vantage point outside or above the past itself; Anglo-Saxon hermeneutics requires us to penetrate ever deeper into the past. Characteristically, German hermeneutics—especially Gadamer[18] —is largely indifferent to the so-called mens auctoris,
[15] P. D. McClelland, Causal Explanation and Model Building in History, Economics, and the New Economic History , Ithaca, 1975; M. G. Murphey, Our Knowledge of the Historical Past , Indianapolis, 1973.
[16] M. Scriven, "Truisms as the Grounds for Historical Explanations," in P. Gardiner, ed., Theories of History, new York, 1959; M. White, Foundations of Historical Knowledge , New York, 1965, chap. 3.
[17] I elaborated on this distinction in my Denken over geschiedenis; Een overzicht van moderne geschiedfilosofische denkbeelden , Groningen, 1984.
[18] H. G. Gadamer, Truth and Method , trans. G. Barden and J. Cumming, New York, 1986.
whereas "analytical hermeneutics" has no other objective than to reconstruct it. German hermeneutics shares with the narrativist tradition—to be dealt with in the next section—a synthetic approach to the past; Anglo-Saxon hermeneutics is openly analytical—a fact which may justify Olafson's choice of terminology. German or continental hermeneutics has deeply influenced today's literary criticism and, via literary criticism, has recently found its way into the narrativist tradition within Anglo-Saxon philosophy of history.
The epistemological nature of analytical hermeneutics is particularly pronounced. As has been demonstrated by Van der Dussen in his dissertation and by Meiland in an admirable little book,[19] Collingwood's reenactment theory was originally an answer to the epistemological question as to how historical knowledge is possible (in a nutshell, the answer can be summed up as follows: historical knowledge is possible because by reenacting the thoughts of the historical agent, these thoughts are brought into the present and can then be investigated here and now). The same is still true of Dray's action rationale explanation, since this model is supposed to define which epistemological criteria have to be fulfilled before we are allowed to say, "I now have the explanation as to why x did a. "
Although analytical hermeneutics went through a difficult period in the 1950s, a series of monographs on Collingwood, written in the 1960s by Donagan, Mink, and Rubinoff,[20] rapidly tipped the balance between the CLM and analytical hermeneutics in favor of the latter. Analytical hermeneutics underwent a number of transformations in the course of time. Collingwood's still rather crude reenactment theory gave way to Dray's rationale explanation, which was to be refined, in its turn, by the intentional explanation and the so-called "logical connection argument" (LCA), which will be described later on. The practical inference to be reconstructed by the historian was analyzed with an ever-increasing sophistication. However, most philosophers of history nowadays agree that further refinement of the scheme of practical inference will inexorably be subject to the law of diminishing returns. That may explain why some philosophers of history have recently become attracted to Collingwood's as-yet-undeveloped logic of question and answer[21] —a pronounced contextualist theory of history quite irreconcilable with the propositionalism of his earlier reenactment theory.[22]
[19] J. W. Meiland, Scepticism and Historical Knowledge , New York, 1965, chap. 3; W. J. van der Dussen, History as a Science: The Philosophy of R. G. Collingwood , The Hague, 1981, 157ff.
[20] A. Donagan, The Later Philosophy of R. G. Collingwood , Oxford, 1962; L. O. Mink, Mind, History and Dialectic: The Philosophy of R. G. Collingwood , Bloomington, 1969; L. Rubinoff, Collingwood and the Reform of Metaphysics: A Study in the Philosophy of Mind , Toronto, 1970.
[21] R. G. Collingwood, An Autobiography [1939], Oxford, 1970, chap. 5.
[22] See my "De Angelsaksische hermeneutiek en de deschiedbeoefening," in T. de Boer, ed., De filosofie van de mens—eh cultuurwetenschappen , Meppel, 1989.
The debate between the advocates of the CLM and the analytical hermeneuticists was hampered by the unexpected difficulty in identifying what it was that was at stake in the controversy. A notable exception was P. Skagestad, who in a brilliant book[23] succeeded in translating the controversy (with Popper and Collingwood as the main antagonists) into an ontological issue. If Popper's third world (containing the thoughts of historical agents) ought to be stratified into an object-level and a metalevel, the CLM is to be preferred; if not, analytical hermeneutics is preferable. Relying upon Russell's theory of descriptions, Skagestad opted for the latter alternative.[24] Usually, however, the issue was not stated so clearly. When hermeneuticists argued that they did not apply laws (since their explanation was based exclusively on the ascertainment of a fact, that is, what " I " would have done under certain historical circumstances), and CLM proponents answered that such an explanation always presupposed a covering law (namely that all rational persons would do what I believe I would do myself under such circumstances), the debate tended to degenerate into a rather fruitless controversy about the priority of the context of justification versus the context of discovery— to put it in Reichenbach's terms.[25]
Dray's influential first book[26] is a striking illustration of how difficult it apparently was to state with clarity the nature of the disagreement between the CLM and analytical hermeneutics. It has been noted by several commentators that Dray's criticism of the CLM and his defense of his action rationale explanation formed entirely different strands in his argument. It was as if Dray first had to transform himself into a reluctant advocate of the CLM before he was able to criticize the model so effectively. And in a later article of Dray's, the same division is even more pronounced.[27] The net result of this course of events was, of course, that the CLM found itself in a relatively secure position. Its supporters could decide where the battle with their opponents was to be fought, and as long as the model did not succumb to disagreements among its own adherents, all criticism would, in practice, amount to a refinement and not a rejection of the model.
In a later phase of the debate, the logical connection argument (LCA) provided analytical hermeneutics with a better argument to prove its independence from the CLM. Following suggestions made by Wittgenstein in
[23] P. Skagestad, Making Sense of History: The Philosophies of Popper and Collingwood , Oslo, 1975.
[24] I expressed my reservations about Skagestad's argument in my "Een nieuwe syn-these?" Theoretische geschiedenis 6 (1979): 58-91.
[25] R. H. Weingartner, "The Quarrel about Historical Explanation," in R. H. Nash, ed., Ideas of History , vol. 2. New York, 1969.
[26] W. H. Dray, Laws and Explanation in History , Oxford, 1957.
[27] W. H. Dray, "The Historical Explanation of Actions Reconsidered," in P. Gardiner, ed., The Philosophy of History , Oxford, 1974.
his Philosophical Investigations (such as his "the human body is the best picture of the human soul"[28] ), the LCA replaced the causal relation between motives and actions with a logical one. With one simple stroke the CLM, with its causal—and not logical—covering laws, had been expelled from the domain of the explanation of human actions. In order to prove the LCA, Donagan wrote that if an agent has the intention I and knows that action a may realize I , and action a is still not carried out, we shall have to conclude that the agent never seriously intended I . In other words, it is part of the meaning of having an intention that the relevant action will be carried out. As may be clear from this admittedly imperfect rendering of Donagan's version of the LCA, the LCA in its initial formulation seemed to achieve the union between intention and action almost by a feat of "magic."[29] Later defenders of the LCA tried to remedy this. G. H. Von Wright thus argued that the antecedens and the consequence in a practical inference of the form (1) A intends to bring about p ; 2) A considers that he cannot bring about p unless he does a ; 3) therefore A resolves to do a )[30] are analytical, since it is impossible to verify the consequence without verifying the antecedens, and vice versa. The deficiencies in Von Wright's argument were convincingly exposed in Rex Martin's Historical Explanation.[31] Martin's book, hitherto unsurpassed in the development of the possibilities inherent in analytical hermeneutics, has up to now not received the attention it deserves.[32] Martin's thesis was that the LCA is not a logical rule but a regulative rule, like the rule that every event has its cause. The function of such rules is to make a certain kind of inquiry epistemologically possible.
But one may wonder whether all this makes much of a difference. Whether human actions are explained by means of covering laws, the LCA, a regulative rule, or the general rule that all rational people are disposed to act rationally, a general rule is required in all cases. We therefore have no reason to be very greatly impressed by the deviation from the CLM as proposed by the LCA and others. It is nice, of course, that the LCA reconciled historical explanation with the Wittgensteinian and Rylean condemnation of causal "ghosts in the machine," but that hardly had anything to do with the original disagreement between proponents of the CLM and of analytical hermeneutics.
[28] L. Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations [1953], Oxford, 1974, 1780.
[29] T. Kuipers, "The Logic of Intentional Explanation," in J. Hintikka and E Vandamme, eds., The Logic of Discourse and the Logic of Scientific Discovery , Dordrecht, 1986.
[30] G. H. Von Wright, Explanation and Understanding , London, 1971, 96.
[31] R. Martin, Historical Explanation: Re-enactment and Practical Inference , Ithaca, 1977, 174-175.
[32] A. Ryan's review in History and Theory 19 (1980): 93-100, failed to do justice to the book.
Besides, these later phases of analytical hermeneutics could even be seen as open or covert flirtations with the CLM. The original gap between Collingwood and Hempel is much wider than the later one between Von Wright or Martin and Scriven or, for example, between Murphey and other more recent defenders of the CLM. The present state of affairs in the debate should be seen as a movement toward a convergence or synthesis of the CLM and analytical hermeneutics rather than as the victory of the latter over the former. For example, within Von Wright's version of the LCA, the dividing wall between the two has become as thin as the dubious irreducibility of intentional descriptions of human actions to causalistic or physicalist descriptions of them. When Von Wright discusses the event of someone ringing a doorbell, this supposedly "irreducible" intentionalist component in an intentional description of that event is so forced and debatable that one may come to feel that even this thin dividing wall has collapsed already.
Martin's book forms an even more telling example of the convergence of the CLM and analytical hermeneutics. He divides the antecedens of the practical inference into a number of separate premises, roughly: 1) the agent finds himself in situation S , in which he wants to bring about some change; 2) certain alternatives to that end present themselves; 3) the realization of intention I seems to the agent to be the best option; 4) the agent believes that doing a will realize I ; and 5) the agent has no conflicting intentions and is physically capable of performing a.[33] First, it should be noted that, in contrast to previous definitions of the practical inference, Martin is able to explain, thanks to premises l, 2, and 3, why S gives rise to intention I in the mind of the agent. He thus avoids that vicious circle between intention and action which reduced the resorting to intentions in all the previous definitions to a role reminiscent of Wittgenstein's wheel in the machine that is driven without driving anything itself. Second, this elaboration of the scheme of the practical inference permits Martin to claim a new role and status for the CLM; for it will be the task of covering laws to connect the premises of the antecedens. Take, for example, Caesar after his conquest of Gaul. We can conceive of a general law to the effect that generals in similar situations—that is, when they are confronted by incursions on the part of a neighboring country—consider alternative ways of changing this unsatisfactory situation (thus linking premises 1 and 2), another stating that generals will usually decide that such incursions must be stopped (the link between 2 and 3), and still another one claiming that generals usually conclude that carrying out an invasion of the neighboring country will be the best solution (the link
[33] Martin, Explanation , 78-79.
between 3 and 4) and so on. The CLM has thus been quietly absorbed into analytical hermeneutics.
We can establish that the debate between the CLM advocates and the analytical hermeneuticists has always been moving toward synthesis more than toward perpetuation of the disagreement. From the vantage point of the present, it is better to speak of "peaceful coexistence" between the two approaches than of an open war between them. Therefore, in the current phase of the debate in philosophy of history, it will be the similarities rather than the differences between the CLM and analytical hermeneutics that will strike us. The following five points sum up these similarities. When taken together, they define the most general presuppositions of epistemological philosophy of history.
First, both the CLM and analytical hermeneutics were relatively insensitive to the problems of actual historiographical practice. Beyond the New Economic History, historians did not have much reason to be interested in covering laws (or their application), and the explanation of the actions of individual historical agents studied in analytical hermeneutics is only a negligible part—and certainly not the most interesting part—of the historian's task. In fact, the adherents of both the CLM and of analytical hermeneutics looked at historiography from a viewpoint outside historiography itself. The theory of the CLM reads like a lecture on applied logic or science, and analytical hermeneutics like a chapter in a book on the philosophy of action.
Second, both are primarily, if not exclusively, concerned with historical explanation. The historian's universe, as seen through the eyes of both, looks very much like a piece of white paper speckled with an immense number of little dots, while it is the historian's explanatory task to connect these dots with one another as well as he or she can. But, that the historian's task is essentially interpretative—that is, to discover a pattern in the dots—had now been lost sight of. Precisely because of its epistemological concern with tying the historian's language as closely as possible to the past itself, philosophy of history was never able to spread its wings and to become a philosophy of historical interpretation.
Consequently, both the CLM and analytical hermeneutics focused their attention on the details and not on the totality of historical studies. The historian has to establish and explain individual facts and was therefore conceived of essentially as a kind of detective, as Collingwood said.[34] Perhaps Collingwood's experience as an archaeologist (he was certainly not a historian in the proper sense of the word) goes a long way in explaining his preoccupation with the problem of why people did, made, or thought
[34] R. G. Collingwood, The Idea of History [1946], Oxford, 1970, 266ff.
certain things in the past; and it is undoubtedly true that his reenactment theory is well suited to the problem of how to study the artifacts from a remote past which has left no written tradition.
However, anybody even superficially acquainted with historiography will recognize that the explanation and description of individual historical facts form only a very minor part of what historians do. We admire great historians like Ranke, Tocqueville, Burckhardt, Huizinga, Meinecke, or Braudel, not for the accuracy of their descriptions and explanations of historical states of affairs, but for the panoramic interpretations they have offered of large parts of the past. Whichever way one tries to overcome the limitations of the CLM and of analytical hermeneutics, the scope of epistemological philosophy of history will invariably prove too narrow to account for such narrative interpretations of the past.
Third, in both its manifestations, the epistemological tradition demonstrates a lack of a sense of history that is quite astonishing for a philosophy of history. It seems to accept either tacitly or openly Hume's famous statement "that there is a great uniformity among the actions of men, in all nations and ages, and that human nature remains the same in its principles and operations."[35] This insensitivity to historical change manifests itself in the CLM in the generality of the covering laws it uses, whereas analytical hermeneutics by necessity presupposes a similarity between the historian's thought and the thought and action of the historical agent studied by the historian.
Fourth, in neither of its guises—either the covering law model or Collingwoodian hermeneutics—has epistemological philosophy of history ever succeeded in its hope of bridging the gap between the historian's language and historical reality. The CLM failed in this respect because, for a variety of reasons, explanans and explanandum never matched in a satisfactory way. It is true that Danto has done much to narrow the gap between the two by pointing out that we always explain events under a certain description of them and that one of the historian's most fascinating tasks is therefore to describe the past in such a way that we can feed those descriptions into the machinery of the covering laws we have at our disposal. But even Danto had to admit that whatever success the historian may have on this score, an appreciable distance will always remain between the past in all its complexity and explanatory language.[36]
A similar criticism can be leveled at analytical hermeneutics, but this kind of criticism is considerably more interesting. Analytical hermeneutics has been accused of not being able to account for those aspects of the past
[35] D. Hume, Enquiries Concerning the Human Understanding and Concerning the Principles of Morals , Oxford, 1972, 83.
[36] A. C. Danto, Analytical Philosophy of History , Cambridge, 1968, 220ff.
that cannot be reduced to the (conscious or unconscious) intentions of individual human agents. Take, for example, the stock market crash of 1929. Since it was nobody's intention to become poorer, the crash cannot be explained in terms of the intentions of the speculators involved. Most adherents of analytical hermeneutics have accepted this serious limitation to their theory with a certain equanimity.[37] Von Wright is therefore an exception when he tries to refute the criticism that analytical hermeneutics is powerless when it comes to the unintended consequences of intentional human action. He takes as his example the origin of the First World War. According to Von Wright, each step taken by the Serbian, Austrian, German, or Russian government was the reaction to a previous step and can be explained by means of intentional explanation, by taking into account what diplomatic situation arose after each previous step. In this way there is nothing left that might give substance to the thesis of the unintended consequences of intentional action.[38] Von Wright's argument can be countered as follows. Number all the successive practical deliberations of the several governments involved up to the outbreak of war: Pl . . . Pn . What, then, was the cause of the outbreak of war? Historians will rarely select Pn as the most likely candidate; they will prefer to say that each step in the series Pl . . . Pn contributed to the outbreak of war and was, therefore, part of the cause. Consequently, Pl , for example, was part of the cause, even though this practical deliberation did not intend to bring about the war. The language of the unintended consequences of intentional human action thus appears to be an essential part of the historian's language.
It is necessary to emphasize the following. Von Wright was correct insofar as his argument showed that only people and not superhuman forces make history, but he was wrong to infer from this that the historian's explanatory potential is exhausted with the appeal to intentional human action. The language of history permits the historian to see the past from a perspective different from that of the historical agents themselves, and it is purely and solely this change in perspective that gives rise to the thesis of the unintended consequences of intentional human action. This thesis is therefore not an ontological claim (the past contains both intentional actions and their unintended consequences) but a thesis concerning the autonomy of the historian's language with regard to the intentional actions of historical agents. As soon as it is conceded that the historian is not committed to the agent's point of view, the language of the unintended consequences can and will be used.[39] In other words, analytical hermeneutics was bewitched by the epistemological dream of a complete parallelism be-
[37] Dray, Laws, 119; Martin, Explanation , 15.
[38] Von Wright, Explanation , 139ff.
[39] See chapter 3.
tween the historian's language (intentional explanations) and what was seen as the actual past (the practical deliberations of historical agents), and this dream seemed so real that it made philosophers of history completely blind to the realities of the writing of history. However, history is often shown or interpreted in terms of what has no demonstrable counterpart in the actual past itself. Thus neither the CLM nor analytical hermeneutics succeeded in achieving the epistemological goal of tying language to the world, of words to things. The CLM failed because historical reality proved to be too complex, and analytical hermeneutics failed because of its inability to account for the complexities of the historian's language. Obviously, the failure of analytical hermeneutics is more serious than that of the CLM. The latter can at least be transformed into a program for future historical research, whereas the failure of analytical hermeneutics is a failure to explain what historians have been doing already for several centuries.
Fifth, there is the epistemological nature itself of both the CLM and analytical hermeneutics. Here we discover an assumption which is so ubiquitously present, which seems so obvious and so innocuous, that it has hardly ever been paid any attention. According to this assumption, we can and should in all cases distinguish clearly among the following three levels: 1) that of the past itself; 2) that of the historical language we use for speaking about the past; and 3) that of philosophical reflection on how historians arrived at their conclusions and how these conclusions can be formally justified. Historical language is, to borrow Rorty's metaphor, the mirror of the past, and it is the essentially epistemological task of the philosopher of history to analyze how this mirror succeeds in showing us the past.
It is true that this scheme has always shown some cracks. For example, the troublesome problem of speculative philosophies seemed to blur the distinction between levels 2) and 3). In addition, historians were sometimes concerned about terms like continuity, discontinuity, order, or chaos. Obviously, the terms themselves belong to level 2); however, one may wonder whether they are only conceptual instruments for organizing our knowledge of the past or whether they also refer to aspects of the actual past. This insoluble problem suggested that the line of demarcation between the first two levels was not as clear as epistemological philosophy of history had always liked to believe. However, these problems—if recognized at all—went unheeded, like Kuhn's anomalies that are "set aside for a future generation with more developed tools."[40] It was only after the publication of Hayden White's Metahistory that these "anomalies" were to take on a new significance.
[40] T. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions , Chicago, 1970, 84.
2. Narrativist Philosophy of History
Before determining White's place in the evolution of Anglo-Saxon philosophy of history, it would be worthwhile to take a step back to compare philosophy of history with developments in other philosophical fields.
Philosophy of science has known an orthodoxy very similar to the one I have just sketched for philosophy of history. Philosophers of science also believed that a strict distinction could be made between physical reality itself, science, and philosophy of science, in such a way that nothing appearing on one level could also appear on one of the other two levels. What has happened in philosophy of science—thanks to the efforts of Quine, Searle, Davidson, Kuhn, and, above all, Rorty—is that the distinctions among these three levels have become blurred, while a strong "historical wind" has started to blow through the cracks in the epistemological scheme. This is what can be expected when the certainties of an old orthodoxy have not yet been replaced by new ones—as seems to be the case at present. In this respect, our present predicament offers a striking illustration of Nancy Struever's intriguing thesis that history and a sense of history can only flourish when absolute certainties (either philosophical, theological, or scientific) have fallen into disrepute.[41] History, with its interest in the "intermediate and relative,"[42] has always been the archenemy of absolute truths and the formal schemes claiming to justify these truths.
The attack on orthodoxy in philosophy of science started with Quine's rejection of the analytic/synthetic distinction. A short exposition of Quine's argument—however familiar his argument may be—cannot be left out of the story to be told here. Quine saw three possible noncircular ways of defining analyticity or synonymy: 1) synonymy by definition; 2) by interchangeability of the terms for which a relation of analyticity is claimed (having the same extension); and 3) on the basis of semantic rules.[43] Quine's argument is, roughly, that these three definitions, each in its own way, only record the fact that two phrases are considered to be synonymous, without either explaining or justifying this fact. Take, for instance, the attempt to make definition the basis of analyticity. Quine writes: "but ordinarily such a definition. . . is pure lexicography, affirming a relation of synonymy antecedent to the exposition at hand."[44] In the same way, in the other two cases, empirical statements of fact are also the only and the
[41] N. S. Struever, The Language of History in the Renaissance , Princeton, 1970. Similar ideas can be found in V. Kahn, Rhetoric, Prudence and skepticism in the Renaissance , Ithaca and London, 1985.
[42] Struever, Language , 6.
[43] W. V. O. Quine, "Two Dogmas of Empiricism," in Quine. From a Logical Point of View [1953], Cambridge (MA), 1971, 24ff.
[44] Ibid., 34.
ultimate basis for our intuition concerning analyticity. Quine is therefore able to conclude: "for all its apriori reasonableness, a boundary between analytical and synthetic statements simply has not been drawn. That there is such a distinction to be drawn at all is an unempirical dogma of empiricists, a metaphysical article of faith."[45] There is another consideration that can be added to Quine's argument. An attempt to establish analyticity presupposes a level on which criteria or definitions for analyticity are given, and a lower level to which these definitions or criteria can be applied. However, it is impossible to uphold the distinction between these levels, since each attempt at a definition implies the appearance on the higher level of statements like "analyticity is. . .," presupposing already our capacity to recognize analyticity (which was supposed to be found only on the lower level).
This last consideration may lend extra support to Quine's claim that, with the rejection of the analytic/synthetic distinction, the line of demarcation between philosophy of science (the higher or meta-level) and science (the lower or object level) has become considerably less distinct. The philosopher of science reconstructs the scientist's reasoning and is expected to demonstrate that the scientist's reasoning from R 1 to R2 is analytical or correct in a formal sense. If, then, the analytic/synthetic distinction has to be rejected, the line of demarcation between the supposedly synthetic statements of the scientist and the supposedly analytic statements of the philosopher of science has disintegrated. Abandoning the distinction results in "a blurring of the supposed boundary between speculative metaphysics and natural sciences";[46] instead of this boundary, there will be a domain shared by the scientist and the philosopher of science, where they can talk to each other in the same language.
There is another argument to the same effect. It is clear that the analytic dimension corresponds to the formal aspects of the scientist's reasoning, whereas the synthetic dimension corresponds to its content. If Quine is correct, neither the philosopher of science nor the philosopher of history can ignore the content of scientific or historical inquiry (the orthodox view left this exclusively to either the scientist or the historian). It is interesting that this argument can be reversed. For it can be shown independently of what has already been said that the form/content dichotomy is also an illusion. Thus Goodman, who had attacked the analytic/synthetic distinction even before Quine, demonstrated that what is said (content) cannot be clearly distinguished from the way it is said (form): "saying dif-
[45] Ibid., 37.
[46] Ibid., 20.
ferent things [content] may count as different ways [form] of talking about something more comprehensive that contains both."[47]
We can return to the results of the debate on the analytic/synthetic distinction with the following words of Rorty:
However. . . Quine's "Two dogmas of empiricism" challenged this distinction, and with it the standard notion (common to Kant, Husserl, and Russell) that philosophy stood to empirical science as the study of structure to the study of content. Given Quine's doubts (buttressed by similar doubts in Wittgenstein's Philosophical Investigations ) about how to tell when we are responding to the compulsion of "language" rather than that of "experience," it became difficult to explain in what sense philosophy had a separate "formal" field of inquiry, and thus how its results might have the desired apodictic character. For these two challenges were challenges to the very idea of "a theory of knowledge" and thus to philosophy itself, conceived of as a discipline which centers around such a theory.[48]
The snag in Rorty's eloquent statement is his assertion that we shall not always be able to tell with certainty whether "we are responding to the compulsion of 'language' rather than that of 'experience.'" It should be observed, furthermore, that Rorty's assertion is of specific importance for a nonformalized discipline like historiography. For it will be obvious, in view of the remark by Goodman quoted above, that in historiography it is particularly difficult to distinguish between what is said and how it is said. Consequently, historiography is preeminently the discipline where "the compulsion of language" tends to be confused with "the compulsion of experience" and where that which seems to be a debate on reality is in fact a debate on the language we use. The examples I mentioned at the end of the last section may very well prove to be only the tip of the iceberg. A linguistic philosophy of history is therefore badly needed.
It is from this Rortyan vantage point that we are able to assess the growing interest in historical narrative in recent Anglo-Saxon philosophy of history. When philosophy of history finally joined in the linguistic turn in Anglo-Saxon philosophy it did so under the guise of narrativism. In fact, one of the most peculiar characteristics of Anglo-Saxon philosophy of history is that it was so reluctant to develop a linguistic philosophy of history. Most Anglo-Saxon philosophy has been a philosophy of language since the wane of neopositivism. However, neither the CLM nor analytical hermeneutics has ever shown much interest in the characteristics of the historian's language. Only rarely did philosophers of history see historical con-
[47] N. Goodman, "The Status of Style," in Goodman, Ways of Worldmaking , Hassocks, 1978, 26.
[48] R. Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature , Oxford, 1980, 169.
cepts like "the Enlightenment" or "revolution"—despite their prominent roles in historical debate—as fruitful topics for serious philosophical investigation, and W. H. Walsh's pioneering work on his so-called colligatory concepts unfortunately failed to undermine narrowly realist and positivist presuppositions.[49] In fact, both the CLM and analytical hermeneutics have always remained remarkably close to quasi-positivist ideals—oddly enough, since, of all academic disciplines, history is undoubtedly the least amenable to positivist treatment. And even nowadays we still find many philosophers of history who are amazingly indifferent to both actual historical practice and to all developments in philosophy of language since, say, Wittgenstein. An example of this is McCullagh's recent book.[50] For all its merits, this book contains little that could not have been said in the 1940s.
That does not mean that the transition from epistemological philosophy of history to narrativist philosophy of history was made overnight. It may be useful to distinguish three phases or forms of narrativism. The first form of narrativism is exemplified in the works of Gallie and Louch.[51] This narrativism could be called psychologistical, since it concentrated on the question of which psychological mechanisms the historian has to mobilize in the minds of his readers if they are to follow his story about the past. Although serious objections can be made regarding the psychologistical approach,[52] part of it can be salvaged if recast as a theory concerning the role of rhetoric in historiography. This might transform psychologistical philosophy of history at least partly into a purely linguistic philosophy of history.
In a later phase, the CLM was the source of inspiration for narrativist philosophy of history.[53] M. White and A. C. Danto saw the historical narrative as a series of "narrative arguments," to use the latter's term. That is to say, the historian's narrative mentions a number of events that can be interrelated by means of covering laws. White and Danto differed as to the exact nature of this connection, but both agreed that what has often been referred to as "genetic explanations" provides us with the model for historical narrative. The well-deserved popularity of Danto's book did much to contribute to the success of this view of historical narrative. In the
[49] Walsh, Introduction to Philosophy of History , 59ff.; W. H. Walsh, "Colligatory Concepts in History," in P. Gardiner, ed., The Philosophy of History , London, 1974, 127-145; L. B. Cebik, "Colligation in the Writing of History," The Monist 53 (1969): 40-57.
[50] C. Behan McCullagh, Justifying Historical Descriptions , Cambridge (Eng.), 1984.
[51] W. B. Gallie, Philosophy and the Historical Understanding . New York, 1968; A. R. Louch, "History as Narrative," History and Theory 8 (1969): 54-70.
[52] F. R. Ankersmit, Narrative Logic: A Semantic Analysis of the Historian's Language , The Hague, 1983, 12-19.
[53] Danto, History , 249ff.; M. White, Foundations , chap. 6.
Anglo-Saxon debate on philosophy of history, Danto's book has filled a role somewhat comparable to that of Aquinas's Summa in the Middle Ages. Like Aquinas, Danto succeeded in epitomizing most of what had already been done; both caught the spirit of the time and convincingly solved a number of problems that still remained. Above all, where Aquinas opened a window to the future with his concept of reason, Danto, with his interest in historical narrative, gave modernity some latitude, while his insistence on the role of the CLM prevented this "narrativist fad" from really getting out of hand. This probably explains the enthusiastic reaction of philosophers of history to Danto's analysis of the so-called "narrative sentences,"[54] although it was obvious, as Murphey was quick to point out,[55] that the significance of these narrative sentences for an understanding of historiography was slight. For it is not the historians' capacity to describe the past in new ways—as emphasized by Danto—but their capacity to develop new interpretations, that makes us continuously see the past in a new light. However, more important, it can be demonstrated that conformity with the CLM is neither a sufficient nor a necessary condition for an acceptable historical narrative.[56]
Finally, analytical hermeneutics never became the point of departure for the development of a more or less well-defined narrativist philosophy of history, although, admittedly, philosophers like Dray, Carr, and especially Olafson have come close to it.[57] I find it hard to explain this fact. It may be that the aversion of analytical hermeneutics to the perspective of the unintended consequences of intentional action proved to be an insurmountable barrier (absent, of course, for the CLM). It is instructive that Carr took particular exception to Mink's characteristically narrativist statement that "stories are not lived but told"[58] and made every conceivable effort to "pull back" the narrative into the sphere of intentional human action. A similar tendency can be observed in Olafson's work.[59]
Thus linguistic, narrativist philosophy of history only made its appearance in its true colors with the publication of Hayden White's Metahistory.
[54] Danto, History, chap. 8; Danto has in mind sentences like, "The Thirty Years War begins in 1618," that refer to two events (both the beginning of the war and its end in 1648) while describing only one of these events.
[55] M. G. Murphey, Our Knowledge of the Historical Past , Indianapolis, 1973: 113ff.
[56] Ankersmit, Narrative Logic , 36-47.
[57] W. H. Dray, "On the Nature and Role of Narrative in Historiography," History and Theory 10 (1971): 153-171; D. Carr, "Review of Paul Ricoeur, Temps et récit," History and Theory 23 (1984), especially 364ff.; D. Carr, "Narrative and the Real World: An Argument for Continuity," History and Theory 25 (1986): 117-131; F. A. Olafson, The Dialectic of Action , Chicago, 1979, passim.
[58] Carr, "Narrative," 118.
[59] F. A. Olafson, The Dialectic of Action , Chicago, 1979, 160ff.
Kellner accurately states that never had a philosopher of history written "a book so fully and openly about language."[60] Since this most revolutionary work on philosophy of history has already been carefully analyzed and discussed on many occasions, I shall restrict myself to a few comments that have to be made if we want to ascertain White's position in the evolution of the debate in philosophy of history.[61]
The linguistic turn announces itself unambiguously in White's philosophy when he compares the historical past itself with a text.[62] Just like a text, the past possesses a meaning that we are trying to discover, it needs interpretation, and consists of lexical, grammatical, syntactical, and semantic elements. Therefore, what the historian essentially does is translate the text of the past into the narrative text of the historian.[63] This translation procedure is always guided by either one or more of the four tropes: metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, or irony. This most original and surprising view has baffled many of White's readers. His argument in favor of this tropological view of historiography can be epitomized as follows: When we have to interpret a text (for instance, the text of the past), we are, in fact, looking for a guide to show us how to understand this text of the past. This guide finds its embodiment in the historical narrative:
As a symbolic structure, the historical narrative does not reproduce the events it describes; it tells us in what direction to think about the events and charges our thought about the events with different emotional valences. The historical narrative does not imagine the things it indicates; it calls to mind images of the things it indicates, in the same way that a metaphor does. . . . The metaphor does not image the things it seeks to characterize, it gives directions for finding the set of images that are intended to be associated with that thing.[64]
This crucial passage teaches us two things. First, it is here that philosophy of history explicitly abandons the epistemological approach and becomes a philosophy of language. Naive realism, according to which a historical account of the past is like a picture that is tied to the past itself by epistemological bonds, is rejected; rather, the historical narrative is a complex linguistic structure specially built for the purpose of showing part of
[60] H. Kellner, "A Bedrock of Order: Hayden White's Linguistic Humanism," History and Theory , Beiheft 19 (1980): 1-30.
[61] H. White, Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe, Baltimore, 1973; H. White, Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism , Baltimore, 1978; the essays in this volume are indispensable for a satisfactory assessment of White's position.
[62] White, Metahistory , 30.
[63] It is doubtful whether the claim that the past is a text could be seen as more than a metaphor; obviously, the fact that both can he interpreted is insufficient proof of its literal truth.
[64] White, Tropics , 91.
the past. In other words, the historian's language is not a transparent, passive medium through which we can see the past, as we do perceive what is written in a letter through the glass paperweight lying on top of it. As I have argued elsewhere,[65] the historian's language has more in common with a belvedere: we do not look at the past through the historian's language, but from the vantage point suggested by it. The historian's language does not strive to make itself invisible like the glass paperweight of the epistemological model, but it wishes to take on the same solidity and opacity as a thing. I shall return to this opacity of the historian's language presently.
And, second, since metaphors like "my love is a rose" suggest similar vantage points, are similar guides for how to look at a part of (past) reality, we can conclude that narrative language is essentially metaphorical or tropological. Metaphors always show us something in terms of something else; the metaphor I just mentioned invites us to see our beloved from the point of view of everything we have learned to associate with roses. However, the rose is not related to the beloved by epistemological ties or rules; in very much the same way, the historical narrative will put to shame all epistemological efforts to fasten the historian's language to the past it is about.
At this point we should consider Danto's view that, from a logical standpoint, metaphor closely resembles intensional contexts, such as we encounter in statements like " m believes that p ." In this statement, p cannot be replaced by s where p and s refer to the same state of affairs, nor by q , even though p entails q . "Intensional contexts are such because the sentences in whose formation they enter are about specific sentences—or about specific representations—and not about whatever those sentences or representations would be about were they to occur outside those contexts."[66] And the same is true for metaphor since "metaphor presents its subject and presents the way in which it does present it."[67] Both metaphor and the historical narrative display this intensional nature and therefore have an element of self-referentiality; they refer to themselves insofar as the precise way they are formulated has also to be taken into account if we are to assess their truth or plausibility. Metaphor and the historical narrative have the density and opacity we ordinarily associate only with things or objects; in a way, they are things.[68] The combined force of White's and
[65] Ankersmit, Narrative Logic , 223.
[66] A. C. Danto, The Transfiguration of the Commonplace , Cambridge (MA), 1983, 187; this book has more m offer to the philosopher of history than the author's Analytical Philosophy of History.
[67] Danto, Transfiguration, 189.
[68] For a formal proof of this claim, see chapter 2 in this volume. It is not surprising that Renaissance humanism had a similar intuition about language being a thing (the transparency view of language is better suited to the sciences that have come into existence since the seventeenth century). See M. Foucault, The Order of Things , New York, 1973, 34-46.
Danto's arguments thus demonstrates the referential opacity of both the historical narrative and the metaphor, and hence the essential shortcoming of the belief in the transparency of language characteristic of all epistemological philosophy of history. The historian's task is to offer us not a reflection or model of the past tied to that past by certain translation rules,[69] but the development of a more or less autonomous instrument that can be used for understanding the past. One can agree with LaCapra's apt remark that White's theory stresses the "making" or "poetic" function of narrative at the expense of the "matching" function that has always been so dear to the mimetic epistemology of positivism.[70]
This insight may serve to clarify an aspect of White's thesis that has puzzled many of his readers. On what level do his rhetorical tropes function? Is a metaphorical, metonymical (and so on) reduction executed on the past itself, so that only that which is related in a metaphorical, metonymical way to certain parts of the past is mentioned in the historical narrative? Or should metaphorical, metonymical relations only be conceived of on the level of our speaking about the past? Or, a third possibility, do metaphor, metonymy, and so on function only in the transition from the past itself to our "narrative" language? However, as soon as we reject, as did White, the traditional epistemological presupposition of the historian's language as a mirror of the past, it is no longer meaningful to ask this question, and White was correct in omitting the suggestion of any kind of answer.
Having stated the essentially metaphorical character of the historical narrative, White reminds us that metaphor is only one of the four tropes. Here White follows Giambattista Vico, but he also seeks the support of writers as diverse as Hegel, Marx, Freud, and Piaget.[71] His stylistic repertory thus embraces metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, and irony. We might now ask ourselves whether it is not conceivable that there are more tropes—or possibly even fewer, should two or more tropes prove to be reducible to one. White has tried to show that there is a kind of logical sequence among the tropes, metaphor leading to metonymy, metonymy to synecdoche, synecdoche to irony, and irony ultimately bringing us back to metaphor.[72] If we consider White's arguments to be convincing, we can
[69] White, Tropics , 88.
[70] D. LaCapra, Rethinking Intellectual History: Texts, Contexts, Language , Ithaca, 1983, 76.
[71] White, Tropics, 5ff.; similar ideas were also developed by Nietzsche in the courses on rhetoric he gave as a young professor in Basel. See P. Lacoue-Labarthe and J. Nancy, "Friedrich Nietzsche: rhétorique et langage," Poétique 2 (1971): 99-141.
[72] White, Tropics, 5; it is interesting that as early as the sixteenth century a similar claim was made by La Popelinière. See G. Huppert, The Idea of Perfect History , Urbana, Ill., 1971, 161ff.
conclude that the system of the four tropes shows neither "gaps" nor duplication. It should be noted that, on the one hand, the advantage of this line of argument is that all historical writing can now be absorbed into White's stylistic scheme; but on the other hand, it has the less desirable consequence of predetermining what the aim and the course of all meaningful historical discussion should be: historical debate is condemned to follow the circle of the four tropes. However, if White is correct in claiming that this corso e ricorso of historical styles can actually be observed in the history of historical writing, we must accept the fact whether we like it or not. This would, of course, entail a kind of apotheosis of the linguistic, narrativist approach. For, the conclusion now becomes inevitable that the logical relation among the four tropes (a fact about the historian's language), and not historical data, is the compass in both historical writing and discussion. White's sensitivity to "the compulsion of language" thus becomes even more pronounced than Rorty's.
This is how the revolution from epistemological to narrativist philosophy of history was enacted in White's work: a revolution which made philosophy of history finally catch up with the developments in philosophy since the works of Quine, Kuhn, and Rorty.
3. Looking Ahead
White's achievement can be summed up as follows: First, philosophy of history finally, belatedly, underwent its linguistic turn and became part of the contemporary intellectual scene. Second, the emphasis on explanation and description—a legacy from the positivist phase—was abandoned in favor of concentration on historical interpretation. Third, the fixation on the details of historical studies was replaced by an interest in the totality of a historical work and the awareness that what requires the attention of the philosopher of history most is to be found only on that level. Fourth, since narrative language logically is a thing, and things do not entertain epistemological relations, the epistemological paradigm could be discarded. Fifth, the traditional dichotomy of the orthodox epistemological view, contrasting things in the past with the language of the historian, no longer has any meaning or justification. Sixth, the traditional selection problem of what should and what should not be said about a historical topic is rephrased as a problem about style. It is recognized that style is not a mere idiom of historical writing: style does not only concern the manner but also the matter of historiography, to use the words of Peter Gay.[73] And, seventh, the antihistorism of the epistemological tradition is
[73] P. Gay, Style in History , London, 1975, 3.
avoided since the strangeness of the past is no longer reduced to the comforting certainties embodied in covering laws, in normic statements (Scriven), or in the principles of philosophy of action.
From this perspective, a few comments can and should be made concerning Ricoeur's recent Time and Narrative. Perhaps no book in the field of philosophy of history since World War II has shown a greater wealth of learning, a more equitable assessment of what has been done up until now, or a greater talent for synthesizing different and heterogeneous traditions. This magisterial book is a landmark in philosophy of history and will have to be closely studied by everyone interested in narrativism. We encounter in Ricoeur's book two familiar Whitean theses. Ricoeur also believes that the historical narrative is essentially metaphorical. And, when he discusses what he calls mimesis (which is an infelicitous term, since it suggests everything that narrativism has always found objectionable in the epistemological tradition), Ricoeur emphasizes, as does White, the autonomy of the historian's language with regard to the actual past. However, from then on, Ricoeur lags far behind White; for nowhere do these two insights induce Ricoeur to investigate the historian's language. It is as if we were brought to a newly discovered world but were not allowed to take away the bandages from our eyes. It is quite characteristic that Ricoeur entirely omits the theory of the tropes in his exposition of White's narrativism. Although he explicitly professes his awareness of the injustice he thus does to White, the result inevitably is that the latter's views are now transformed into a body without a heart.[74]
Two reasons can be given, I believe, for Ricoeur's tendency to revert from the narrativist tradition to the epistemological tradition. First, narrative for Ricoeur "attains its full meaning when it becomes a condition of temporal existence."[75] Time is part of life as it is lived by human individuals and that fact must manifest itself in the historian's narrative. This is also why Ricoeur rejects Mink's view, according to which the historian's interpretation of the past is always a seeing together and not a reviewing seriatim of the separate phases of a historical development.[76] Hence Ricoeur's tendency to tie the historical narrative to the past in the way which had always been suggested by the epistemological tradition. Second, undoubtedly because of his phenomenological background, Ricoeur wants to lock up the historical narrative firmly within the confines of the perspective of the individual historical agent. Particularly instructive in this regard is the deep respect with which Ricoeur discusses Von Wright's Explanation and
[74] P. Ricoeur, Time and Narrative , Chicago, 1983, 163.
[75] Ibid., 52.
[76] Ibid., 155ff.
Understanding throughout his work, when most philosophers of history would not classify Von Wright's book as narrativist at all. In both cases, the result is a clipping of the wings of narrativism. This tendency also manifests itself in Ricoeur's proposal to redescribe those aspects of the past which are not easily reduced to a realist or anthropomorphic approach in terms of "quasi-characters," "quasi-plots," or "quasi-events" (this is how he deals with, for instance, Braudel's longue durée ). Ricoeur thus attempts to neutralize the narrativist import of historiography, offering panoramic views of large parts of the past.
When I say that White's narrativism is far more developed than Ricoeur's, this does not mean that White's system could not be improved upon. This becomes clear if we take, once again, the recent developments in philosophy of science as our background in order to measure the progress made in philosophy of history. Here too, Rorty's views are most instructive. His book was essentially an attack on the epistemological tradition since Descartes. This attack had both a historical and a theoretical dimension to it. Historically, it can be shown that epistemological concerns did not arise before the seventeenth century. Before that time, philosophy had no use for epistemology, since the modern notion of the mind as a forum internum, in which truths about the world (and about the physical self) were mirrored, was created for the first time by Descartes.[77] For Aristotle, and within the Aristotelian tradition, seeing was knowing and not a mere datum for this forum internum of the knowing mind.[78] Where the Aristotelians were content with just the world and our knowledge of the world, Cartesian epistemology introduced this third notion of a forum internum, in which the world mirrors itself, and whose smooth surface we examine in order to acquire knowledge. Epistemology was given the task of bridging the gap that had now inadvertently been created by the knowing subject's abandonment of reality for this forum internum. With great acumen and talent for estranging the past from its Whiggish codification which we all accepted, Rorty succeeds in showing why this Cartesian postulate of a forum internum should be seen as the birthplace of modern philosophy—of epistemology and of modern philosophy of science. For since Descartes, all philosophers have agreed that this forum internum— whose operations were believed to be clearly statable—is the sole sanctuary of all truth and reason. Only those beliefs that have come into being in accordance with the rules and under the jurisprudence obtaining in the forum internum can count as knowledge. Kant's critical philosophy was, of course, the apogee of this evolution in Western philosophy. Hence the peculiar
[77] Rorty, Mirror , 50.
[78] Ibid., 45.
inference so characteristic of most Western philosophy since the Middle Ages, from knowledge of the mind (of the transcendental ego) to the knowledge we have of reality.
However, Rorty was not content to have demonstrated merely that our trust in epistemology and philosophy of science is no more than a historical accident. The greatest part of his book is devoted to demolishing (by means of arguments drawn from the work of Wittgenstein, Quine, David-son, and Kuhn) this notion of an ahistorical forum internum as the repository of truth. He shows that if all mentalistic language derived from the acceptance of the forum internum conception is eliminated, nothing essential will have been lost.[79] Consequently, epistemology as we understand it is an intellectual enterprise whose very raison d'être is doubtful—to say the least—and Rorty urges us to replace it by what he refers to as epistemological behaviorism. That is to say, problems concerning the relation between language and reality should not be transformed into problems concerning the workings of our minds; they can only be solved by finding out what we actually believe and what reasons we have for doing so. Briefly, the problems epistemologists attempted to answer can only be solved by looking at the results of scientific research; how language relates to reality is not an epistemological question but a scientific one. And Rorty does not hesitate to ridicule the absurd claim on the part of philosophers that they should have both the duty and the capacity to "found" the sciences.
This, however, is only part of the story; for we must be aware that each discipline has its favorite philosophical bugbear. For the sciences this philosophical bugbear is not epistemology, but metaphysics. Both the sciences and metaphysics claim to investigate the nature of reality and are therefore each other's natural rivals. Metaphysics, and not epistemology, has suffered the heaviest blows from the development of modern science. Epistemology was tolerated as an irrelevant pastime for idle philosophers from which no real harm was to be expected. In historiography, on the other hand, the reverse is the case. Historians can afford to be indifferent to metaphysical investigations into the ultimate nature of the past. In the same way as epistemology is—in the Rortyan view—the philosopher's answer to what is essentially a scientific question, speculative philosophies of history are the philosopher's way of dealing with the problems of the historian. However, the epistemology of, for instance, the CLM and analytical hermeneutics really has the capacity to derail historical writing. That the triumph of analytical hermeneutics would mean the end of historiography as we know it needs no elucidation. Gadamer was correct, therefore, when he saw method, rather than Hegel or Marx, as the most serious enemy of
[79] Ibid., chap. 2.
the Geisteswissenschaften. Consequently, Rorty's condemnation of epistemology is nowhere more to the point than in the case of historiography.
From this perspective, it might be considered a shortcoming of White's philosophy of history that it is still not entirely free of "foundational" epistemological undertones. White himself has recognized the Kantian nature of some of his ideas, and it cannot be denied that the role assigned to the tropes is very similar to that of the Kantian categories in synthesizing knowledge. On the other hand, since White is not very outspoken about where and how the tropes affect our understanding of the past (see above), it might be hard to give much substance to the claim that White's tropology is another variant of foundational epistemology. Besides, his thesis that—if pressed hard enough—each trope will give way to another reinforces the purely linguistic, nonepistemological nature of the tropes. However, in whatever light we look at it, the idea that there are essentially only these four ways of representing the past will never quite lose its less fortunate "foundational" ring.
We have now arrived at a vantage point from which we can take a glimpse into the hazy landscape of the future of philosophy of history. From now on we must firmly resist the temptation of the Cartesian metaphor of the glassy essence of the knowing subject or of the language he uses. We do not look through language at (past) reality; the historian's language is not a medium wanting to erase itself. The point has been forcefully stated by Culler: Philosophy and science in their epistemological cloak always "aimed at putting an end to writing."[80] If a problem has been solved, it was believed, writing about it comes to an end; looking through writing and language, we now observe the workings of nature and of reality themselves. Especially in historiography, this picture is utterly misleading. In historiography, "paradoxically, the more powerful and authoritative an interpretation, the more writing it generates."[81] The great books in the field of the history of historiography, the works of Ranke, de Tocqueville, Marx, Buckhardt, Huizinga, Meinecke, or Braudel, do not put an end to a historical debate, do not give us the feeling that we now finally know how things actually were in the past and that clarity has ultimately been achieved. On the contrary: these books have proved to be the most powerful stimulators of the production of more writing; their effect is thus to estrange us from the past, instead of placing it upon a kind of pedestal in a historiographical museum so that we can inspect it from all possible perspectives.
The truly interesting historical text does not "wipe itself out" (by having
[80] J. Culler, On Deconstruction: Theory and Criticism after Structuralism , London, 1983, 90.
[81] Ibid.
removed an item from the list of historical problems) but has a metaphorical relation to itself. Since it stimulates more writing, there is a sense in which it, just like a metaphor, does not mean what it literally says. In this connection Derrida used the words différance and intertextuality. Derrida's thesis that texts may differ from themselves (a most peculiar feature they have, which leads Derrida to prefer the term différance to the regular French word différence ) can, in fact, best be illustrated by means of historical texts. As I have pointed out elsewhere, if we have only one historical interpretation of some historical topic, we have no interpretation.[82] An interpretative way of seeing the past can only be recognized as such in the presence of other ways of seeing the past. Narrative interpretations mutually define each other and therefore owe their identity to their intertextual relations.
Consequently, a maximum of clarity can only be obtained in historiography thanks to a proliferation of historical interpretations and not by attempting to reduce their number. Historiography can therefore never afford to become forgetful of its past; even past interpretations which we reject at present should still be remembered in order to define the identity of the interpretations we now prefer. The proliferation thesis also requires us to respect the uniqueness and différance of each historical interpretation. I would therefore disagree with White's proposal to categorize narrative interpretations by means of the four tropes. This proposal has, moreover, a practical disadvantage. In the heat of the theoretical debate, we must not forget that (new) historical data sometimes succeed in discrediting certain historical interpretations. As we have seen, there is in White's analysis a probably unintended tendency to suggest that historical controversy is purely linguistic. And that would be going too far. Here we must bear in mind two things. First, narrative interpretations are the instruments—linguistic objects—created by historians in order to make sense of part of the past. Surely the debate about the merits and shortcomings of historical interpretations is a debate about these linguistic objects. However, we must not forget that it is always the historical data mentioned by the historian which makes them into the objects they are. Second, the succession from metaphorical interpretations to netonymical interpretations, from metonymical interpretations to synecdochical interpretations, and so on could not provide us with a criterion for interpretative success. This is not because it would be the wrong criterion, which should be replaced by a better one, but simply because each historical interpretation is already, in itself, a criterion for interpretative success. For, each historical interpretation can be taken as meaning: "if you look at the past from this perspective, that is your best guarantee for understanding part of the
[82] Ankersmit. Narrative Logic , 239.
past." Each historical interpretation is essentially the proposal of a criterion for what requirements are to be met if we want to understand part of the past.
But are there no criteria for these criteria, White might object. I do not think so, since I presume that these two sets of criteria will inevitably coalesce. It will be impossible to satisfy the higher set of criteria without satisfying the lower, and vice versa. One cannot make sense of the suggestion that an interpretation is sound on one level but not on another (obviously, I am speaking here not of several separate parts of the past being interpreted, but of one and the same part of the past). Therefore, historiography knows no interesting and generally applicable criteria for distinguishing between satisfactory and unsatisfactory interpretations. (I deliberately use the phrase "interesting criteria," for it will be obvious that the historian should, for instance, not misread his sources and should avoid the kind of mistakes in logic of which Fischer has made us aware.)[83] All we have is the intertextual interplay between the historical narratives we happen to have on some topic. Therefore, if these criteria are to be found any where, then it is in this set of historical narratives which have actually been written on this topic. Outside such sets, there are no interesting criteria, either general or specific, for interpretative certainty and validity. I have obviously repeated here, but from a different perspective, the by now familiar Rortyan rejection of epistemological foundationalism. Historiography is itself the source of its own interpretative certainties and not the result of the application of some previously given set of such certainties. Like a dike covered with ice floes at the end of the winter, the past has been covered by a thick crust of narrative interpretations; and historical debate is as much a debate about the components of this crust as about the past hidden beneath it.
The most conspicuous failure of pre-Whitean, epistemological philosophy of history was to ignore this thick crust of narrativist interpretations. One lost sight of the fact that historical disagreement does not only concern the past itself but also the linguistic objects created by historians to understand the past. The most interesting question with regard to historiography-the question of why historians prefer one interpretation of a specific historical topic (the question should not be generalized) to another—was never asked. It is as if philosophers of science had never sought to deal with the growth of scientific knowledge and had restricted themselves to the problem of how to ascertain individual data without paying attention to theory and concept formation. For if there is anything in historiography that is analogous to theory formation in the sciences, then it is historical interpretation and not the description or explanation of individual historical facts (in which the epistemological tradition was so interested).
[83] D. H. Fischer, Historians' Fallacies , London, 1971.
The similarity between interpretation in history (which often results in the introduction of a new concept, such as Mannerism or the Cold War ) and concept and theory formation in the sciences might even prove to be a useful guide for the solution of problems in philosophy of science. In a brilliant article, MacIntyre has argued that in the Kuhnian paradigm changes, the paradigm to be preferred is the one that enables us to tell the most convincing story of the part of the history of science which gave rise to the paradigm change.[84] One may surmise that at least some of the problems that puzzle contemporary philosophers of science, like concept formation or the incommensurability of scientific theories, can be demonstrated ad oculos by looking at what happens in historiographical debate. For, the kind of debates we find in the history of science during those relatively rare periods of scientific revolution are endemic in historiography. Moreover, there are some striking resemblances between the narrativist's thesis of the autonomy of historical language with regard to the past and model-theoretical and instrumentalist interpretations of scientific theories since Ramsey. The relations between history and science could thus be studied from a far more rewarding and interesting point of view than the one suggested by theorists of the CLM. One can observe here a curious and even depressing paradox. Who could fail to be aware of how deeply philosophy of science has historicized itself since Kuhn? In one way or another, philosophers of history have managed to ignore completely this change of front in philosophy of science. Strangely enough, contemporary philosophy of science is far more historist than philosophy of history—with the exception, of course, of the antiepistemologist narrativist tradition since White.
This is the dilemma of contemporary philosophy of history. Will philosophy of history continue its classical epistemologist tradition, or is it prepared to investigate the kind of philosophical problems described in this essay? If philosophy of history is content to become an odd positivist fossil in the contemporary intellectual world within the next four years, by all means let it remain epistemologist. If, however, philosophers of history have the courage to shake off their own past and entertain a sincere wish to contribute to a better understanding not only of historiography but also of the problems that are currently under debate in other philosophical disciplines, it cannot avoid becoming narrativist.
[84] A. MacIntyre, "The Relationship of Philosophy to Its Past," in R. Rorty, J. B. Schneewind, and Q. Skinner, eds., Philosophy in History , Cambridge (Eng.), 1984, 31-49.