by
Damien F. Mackey
“… It seemed to me as nearly
certain as anything in the future could be, that historical thought … would
increase in importance far more rapidly during the 20th; and that we
might very well be standing on the threshold of an age in which history would
be as important for the world as natural science had been between 1600 and 1900”.
R. G. Collingwood, Autobiography
One
may find rather illuminating - when considering Eduard Meyer’s artificially reconstructed
(along Kantian lines) Egyptian dynastic ‘history’ in contrast to real objective
Egyptian history - the Kantian-influenced professor R. G. Collingwood’s
approach to history, as summarised by Gavin Ardley, in Aquinas and Kant: the
foundations of the modern sciences (Chapter XIV: History as Science)?
Professor
Collingwood
The
modern progressive science of physics commenced when, in the words of Kant, we
ceased to be like a pupil listening to everything the teacher chooses to say,
but instead like a judge, compelled Nature to answer questions which we
ourselves had formulated. It has been suggested in recent years that a
progressive science of history might be started if a like Copernican revolution
could be brought about in historical studies.
The late
Professor R. G. Collingwood [d. 1943] was one of the leading exponents of this
view. His thought is permeated through and through with Kant’s great idea about
the Galilean epistemology, and he believed he could see a future for history as
brilliant as the career of physics since Galileo.
He writes
in his Autobiography [Ch. VIII].
Until the
late 19th an early 20th centuries, historical studies had
been in a condition analogous to that of natural science before Galileo. In
Galileo’s time something happened to natural science (only a very ignorant or a
very learned man would undertake to say briefly what it was) which suddenly and
enormously increased the velocity of its progress and the width of its outlook.
About the end of the 19th century something of the same kind was
happening, more gradually and less spectacularly perhaps, but not less
certainly, to history.
… It
seemed to me as nearly certain as anything in the future could be, that
historical thought, whose constantly increasing importance had been one of the
most striking features of the 19th century, would increase in
importance far more rapidly during the 20th; and that we might very
well be standing on the threshold of an age in which history would be as important
for the world as natural science had been between 1600 and 1900.
History
in the past was what Collingwood calls a ‘scissors and paste affair’. This was
like physics before Galileo. Collingwood writes:
If
historians could only repeat, with different arrangements and different styles
of decoration, what others had said before them, the age-old hope of using it
as a school of political wisdom was as vain as Hegel knew it to be when he made
his famous remark that the only thing to be learnt from history is that nobody
ever learns anything from history.
But what
if history is not a scissors and paste affair? What if the historian
resembles the natural scientist in asking his own questions, and insisting on
an answer? Clearly, that altered the situation.
The past
with which the historian deals is not a dead past, but a past which is living
on in the present. With the Copernican revolution in our approach to this
living past, history, so Collingwood hopes, will become a school of moral and
political wisdom.
Collingwood
peaks of political ‘wisdom’ being the Baconian fruits of this revolution. But
on the analogy of the natural sciences ‘wisdom’ seems hardly the right term.
Terms such as power, control, utility, prediction, would be more appropriate.
This really is what Collingwood envisages in other passages. He writes: [Ch.
IX].
It was a
plain fact that the gigantic increase since about 1600 in his power to control
Nature had not been accompanied by a corresponding increase, or anything like
it, in his power to control human situations….
It was
the widening of the scientific outlook and the acceleration of scientific
progress in the days of Galileo that had led in the fullness of time from the
water-wheels and windmills of the Middle Ages to the almost incredible power
and delicacy of the modern machine. In dealing with their fellow men, I could
see, men were still what they were in dealing with machines in the Middle Ages.
Well meaning babblers talked about the necessity for a change of heart. But the
trouble was obviously in the head. What was needed was not more good will and
human affection, but more understanding of human affairs and more knowledge
of how to handle them.
This
increase in our ability to handle human affairs, then, is to be brought about
by the same revolution which transformed natural science in the 17th
century, the nature of which revolution was first recognised by Immanuel Kant.
As
Collinwood sees it, history as a science of human affairs did not begin to
emerge until the 20th century. In the pre-scientific history age men
perforce searched elsewhere for a science of human affairs. The 18th century
looked for a ‘science of human nature’. The 19th century sought for it in the
shape of psychology. These both turned out to be illusory. But since the
revolution in history, history has revealed itself as the one true science of
human affairs. [Ch. X].
The Two
Histories
We might
point out, however, something which Collingwood does not make clear, and about
which he was probably not at all clear himself. This is the matter to which we
drew attention when we doubted the appropriateness of the word ‘wisdom’ for the
knowledge acquired through the new science of history, and suggested such
epithets as control, power, utility, etc., in its place. For, as we have
insisted throughout this book, the fact that we have a Procrustean science does
not mean that we have in any way abolished the structure of Nature, or that we
can no longer know Nature in the way in which the philosophia perennis
knows it.
Collingwood’s
proposed Kantian revolution in history will give us, of course, a Procrustean
categorial science of history. But real objective history will carry on just
as before. The relation between the two will be like the relation of modern
so-called ‘physics’ to real physics, i.e. of nomos to physis.
[cf. e.g. modern sociology on the one hand and ethics on the other (Ch. XIII),
or Freudian therapeutic psychology and rational psychology (Ch. XV)]. The term
‘wisdom’ is more appropriate to knowledge of the physis than to the
categorial structure devised by the ingenuity of man. The latter, in the case
of history, is a practical instrument of manipulation for the prince, the
former is the pursuit of the real nature of history.
The
Character of Scientific History
Collingwood
laid down the general principle which must be followed if history is to become
a science, but he did not pursue the subject into specific terms.
We might
develop a scheme of procedure in history by following the analogy of modern
physics. This suggests the introduction into history of laws, fictions,
artificial constructions, etc., as in physics. The concepts of ordinary life
must be replaced by others more convenient for our purpose. For instance, in
the exact physical sciences, the English term ‘hard’, which is a familiar and
vague expression, is replaced by a number of artificial but exact terms, such
as malleability, shear modulus, tensile strength, etc. This would lead to a
monstrous jargon in history akin to the formidable technical terminology of the
Procrustean natural sciences. The new Procrustean history would now be only for
specialists and would soon become as unintelligible to the layman as is modern
physics. But its justification, if indeed it could be constructed, would be the
pragmatic sanction of practical utility. It would be a handy machine for
princes. It should be remembered too that the new history would be potentially
a dangerous weapon, just as dangerous, if not more so, than the control we now
possess over inanimate Nature.
Whether
such a Procrustean scheme will ever be born remains to be seen. For the
inherent tractability or intractability of the raw material forming the primary
subject matter of the Procrustean science must have some bearing on the ease
with which such a science can be developed. The Procrustean method has had its
greatest triumph in modern physics. In the biological sciences it has made much
less progress, and in the human sciences and history has hardly started. Is
this comparative failure outside physics due merely to dilatoriness and
ineptitude, or is there a more underlying cause: that the subject matter in the
animate and rational worlds is so much more intractable that it does not lend
itself to Procrusteanisation?
If a
Procrustean history does emerge, as Collingwood hopes, there may possibly be in
consequence an initial reaction away from classical history, like the reaction
away from Aristotelian science, and indeed all things Aristotelian, in the
times of Galileo. But such a reaction in historical studies would be as
ill-founded as was the 17th century reaction.
Let wiser
counsels prevail, and the two pursuits may go on side by side. To prevent
confusion of the two, which caused so much trouble with the old and new
physical sciences, it would be better to find a new name for the new
Procrustean history. To go on calling it ‘history’ would be a perpetual source
of confusion with real history. We would suggest the term nomics except
that we have already applied that term to post-Galilean ‘physics’. No doubt
some new term appropriate to the situation could be found.
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