Ted McCormick

These choices -- of subjects, sources, methods -- should be justified, but they can be justified in various ways. There is no single "correct" choice; there are better or worse reasons for making any given choice. No set of choices is definitive. Each has different payoffs.

In thinking about how historical accounts change over time, it is important to understand how they are made from the examination and interpretation of sources. Access to sources is itself mediated by series upon series of choices. And these choices themselves change over time.

Selection -- choice -- begins before sources even get read. What is preserved in the first place? Why, how, and by whom? In what form? How complete? How classified? With what kinds of identifying or framing information? What is public? What private? How is access controlled?

These choices are made, unmade, and remade for myriad reasons, conscious and unconscious, deliberate and accidental, technical, social, economic, political. Whose voices mattered at any given time? Which families or institutions survived? Who was seen as having a history at all?

Even the sources that survive don't "speak for themselves." Grasping the literal sense of a simple text takes work: knowledge of language, idiom, form, authorship. Putting it in context takes more. Using complex, obscure, fragmentary, non-textual sources more. Choices to make.

Synthesizing some larger account or narrative multiplies decisions. Which sources are relevant to the question being asked?Which sources go together, and how might they fit? Which should speak more loudly? Which should weigh more? How to square differences? Yet more decisions.

And there is no timeless or unquestionable set of principles by which to make any of these decisions. There are only more or less compelling ways of justifying more or less fruitful sets of choices. And only at the very end of all these choices, and more, comes the narrative.

So histories are not "given." They are produced. They are outcomes of series upon series of choices that could have and can and assuredly will be made differently. There is and can be no single, definitive account. On the other hand, there are many distinct, valid accounts.

I think it is possible to learn (and to think) much more about the past by studying it from a multiplicity of angles than by pretending that one account is the simple truth. One might imagine that self-proclaimed proponents of diverse viewpoints would think this too; but not so.

In practice, many of the same people who champion "viewpoint diversity" as a cornerstone of academic freedom also decry the appearance of new historical narratives, and the criticism of old ones, based on new research. Some of this is obviously bad faith, and a waste of time.

But I do think a significant amount of support for it (among those not paid to parrot or endorse such views) is rooted in simple and remediable unfamiliarity with what history as a discipline is, how it is produced, how narratives are shaped by research, and how sources are used.

And so I think historians owe it to themselves and the public to spell this out as often as necessary. And to emphasize, too, that the series of choices I've described is not the result of this or that "theory." It is what historians of all stripes deal with. It is the job.

I should note, finally, that only some of these choices are ever wholly in the hands of the historian whose name goes on the book. As archivists, librarians, editors and others can attest, writing history is a social practice, however solitary it may feel. Societies also change.