Beyond the Ivory Tower
Why Americans Should Expect More from our Historians
A favorite debate amongst my graduate cohort was the question of whether historians should write primarily for an audience of their peers, or whether they should write for a broader consumption. It was a particularly interesting, and I believe, poignant discussion. There is a certain philosophy – or at least a shared attitude – in academia that asserts high level academic scholarship should be produced primarily for the review of colleagues in one’s own discipline – moving the field forward through rigorous research and scholarly publication, which would eventually trickle down to the masses through the established structures of secondary and post-secondary education. There is also an inherent professional disgust for what we term “popular history” – widely read best sellers that grace the shelves of major chain bookstores but are written by amateur historians, or – gasp – journalists.
For me, the heart of this debate centered around the value of history and what we perceived as a general lack of historical knowledge – even apathy – in the general public at large. Too often we heard complaints about history that emphasized having to memorize “all those facts.” Too often we were frustrated – and amused – by the sensational entertainment masquerading as history on network television. Too often we were dismayed by the prospect of spending years acquiring expert knowledge and producing high quality scholarship to merely deliver our work before a limited group of specialists. As we had a number of public historians in the group at the time – in addition to myself, pursuing a master’s degree in library and information science concurrently with my history program – we usually came down on the side of generating content for a wide readership. After all, how could we hope to influence popular knowledge of certain important historical events and nuances, let alone work towards correcting less-than-flattering perceptions of our own profession, without engaging the wider public?
In practice, however, the established norms of academic life prevail as they have for generations, without significant opportunities to break free and democratize quality academic content as my fellow students and I so frequently discussed. Recognized forms of professional achievement remain tightly focused on the publication of monographs and scholarly articles, which by in large, are consumed by a relatively limited academic readership. Opportunities outside this realm do exist, but may not be recognized or valued by academia. The time has come for more. At this point, perhaps more than any other moment in our history, our politicians, military leaders, decision-makers, and society at large are in dire need of our expertise. We need the insights that come from researching and writing quality academic scholarship so that the lessons of our past can be understood and implemented broadly. It is time to escape the ivory tower and promote changes in the ways we engage our general population. As you may have guessed, we must begin by examining our own professional habits and exploring both corrective measures and alternative opportunities.
Looking in the Mirror
As a profession, what do our actions say about us?
Professional academic life, by in large, is a continuous struggle for acceptance. We strive for acceptance into graduate school, to receive approval for our topics, to pass our exams and defend our theses and dissertations. We seek acceptance from journals to publish our articles, from presses to publish our books, from review boards to accept our tenure and promotion packages. At a more basic level, we struggle to be accepted by our colleagues, to be taken seriously for our work, our insights, and our skills in a world that is densely populated by established authorities, “celebrity scholars,” and often seems stacked against those with non-traditional backgrounds or lesser credentials. Though caring mentors and positive experiences certainly exist – and these should be recognized and celebrated – this overall character can be observed at any history conference. The environment may seem congenial, but competition, condescension, cliquishness, and powerful egos – and imposter syndrome – run deep.
Historians are almost always willing to argue with one another as well – healthy, scholarly debate at its best, but petty pride and arrogance at its worst. Those reading this might be able to recall examples of disagreement, rivalry, and battles between competing historians. Potential for this kind of interaction is obviously exacerbated by social media. Of course, this tendency to take ourselves too seriously is certainly not limited to our own discipline. These characteristics can be broadly applied to academia at large. However, recognizing these habits we must pause to consider, are we hurting ourselves? What opportunities might exist – or be explored – if our self-centered, self-aggrandizing pursuits were set aside in favor of a more collaborative philosophy? What message are we sending to graduate and even undergraduate students interested in a career in history? To the public at large? If we cannot listen and interact with ourselves in a constructive manner, how can we expect those beyond our profession to take us seriously and listen to the insight we so desperately want to share?
We should also take care that our actions do not ward off future recruits to the profession. Each one of us chose to pursue a career in history for a reason, an interest, a passion. We should ensure that younger generations are not discouraged from following their own passions into the discipline due to challenges, barriers, or expectations that we have an ability to influence. Similarly, we should hearken back to our own journeys, and the individuals who helped us on our way, and always make time to mentor, assist, and guide those whom we may supervise or come into contact with on their own path through this journey. These young scholars are the future of our profession, and we should look well to the responsibility we have to encourage them and help them chart a course of their own through the sometimes rough waters of academic life. Else we will come off as self-absorbed buffoons, and who needs that kind of press?
Our Public Responsibility
No historian worth their salt will neglect an opportunity to point out lessons unlearned, opportunities missed, or mourn a lack of interest in history among the public at large. We deplore society’s ignorance while at the same time writing only for each other’s critique and remaining blissfully trapped in our own tiny, self-absorbed bubbles. As the saying goes, those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it, but those who do study history are doomed to stand by and watch as everyone else repeats it. It is a cruel irony, but fortunately, one that that is within our power to improve. If we truly believe that history matters, as we so often claim, then we should actively search for opportunities to share our expertise beyond the standardized norms of our profession and be willing to put in the time and work to gradually change both perceptions and expectations over time.
Public perception – both of ourselves as arrogant academics and then broader misunderstandings of our discipline as a whole – might prove to be the hardest nut to crack. It is my contention that no amount of marketing, branding, or campaigning, however skillful or persistent, will succeed in influencing tightly-held public assumptions and beliefs. Speaking from my “other” profession, we can observe this phenomenon, I believe, in the continuous efforts by libraries to market, promote, and brand themselves to groups, communities, and stakeholders that, too often, don’t seem to “get it.” Where marketing may fail, however, I believe relationship building can succeed. Just as libraries that cultivate strong relationships with local governments, school districts, city councilors, interest groups, and charitable foundations are able to seek better funding, collaborative partnerships, and progress, historians who seek to apply similar strategies might find themselves better placed for access into the public sphere.
What could this look like?
Historians writing op-ed pieces for major publications and serving as guests on podcasts and other venues with non-specialist audiences are a couple of strategies already becoming more and more prevalent. To take it a step further, however, what potential opportunities might come from getting to know our local news producers? The managing editor at the newspaper? The hosts of popular talk shows on air in our area? The leadership of local civic organizations, public libraries, and historical societies? By building and cultivating these relationships – absent any sort of arrogance, condescension, or hidden agendas – historians might well find themselves on the “call list” of available experts when additional insight in one of these arenas is needed next. The opportunity, once given, should certainly not be squandered – rather – we should take care to create an as positive experience as possible for both the hosts and the intended audience, thereby raising our credibility, conveying our message clearly and unburdened by baggage, and on the whole representing our chosen profession in a positive light.
Aside from the valuable connections that could result from these efforts, and the expertise and information that would be shared to a wider audience, there are other possible returns on this investment. Positive side effects might include broadened interests in our work and even increases in book sales, speaking engagements, and the like – all of which would certainly be appreciated by our editors, at least!
A few other strategies to facilitate such opportunities come to mind – and this is where many of our graduate students might have an advantage over the more established scholars in our discipline. Specifically, we should construct, maintain, and refine at least two things – a strong, clear elevator pitch encapsulating the basic tenets of our research – and a current, visibly appealing and easily navigable professional website representing who we are, what we do, and how we can be contacted, at a minimum. Aside from serving as a guide for others seeking to learn more about our chosen areas of expertise or to ask for our insight, these tools also serve as valuable practice for ourselves, both in terms of refining our ability to describe what it is that we do, as well as our understanding and engagement of what it takes to remain relevant and keep abreast of changing professional, social, and cultural landscapes.
Bringing it all Together
In short, historians should prepare their work for public consumption and actively seek opportunities to share their expertise in non-academic arenas. To do this, historians should reflect on the habits and characteristics that might hinder others from taking us seriously or from joining our profession, and should instead work to recruit those who are passionate about history and remove barriers to their success. We should also spend some time and effort evaluating what it is that makes our research distinctly applicable, and therefore relevant, to current issues and trends. Developing a clear understanding of these details will not only help us clearly describe our research and purposes, thereby becoming better writers and historians, but will also help others understand the significance and value of our topics and the work that we do. It is only by taking steps such as these that we can have any hope of addressing the problems we so often deplore – striving not to stand helplessly by as others repeat historical mistakes but taking an active role in helping our communities and society learn from the past in order to forge a more hopeful future.
Such a battle might be tough, but it is one well worth fighting.