Carr writes about epistemology, about what we know and how we know what we know. He begins his book by exploring the relationship between the historian, fact and knowledge. “A fact is like a sack—it won’t stand up till you’ve put something in it” (9).
A historical fact is one that has been given a life of its own by society, academia and a combination of contingent and determinant forces that bring it to the forefront of all other facts. On pages 10-1, Carr takes great care to examine a fact that may or may not be turned into a historical fact. The fact was the murder of a gingerbread baker by a mob, and this fact stood simply as that, a fact of history, but not yet a historic fact, until Dr. Kitson Clark came around and cited it. This, in Carr’s estimation, does not mean that it is destined to be a historical fact, but rather that it now has more potential to be a historical fact than it had previous to this citation. Historic fact, however, does not make history, but it is rather made by the subjective judgment of individuals.
Carr then looks at the relationship between the individual and society and claims that it is impossible to know which came first, which was a driver of the creation of the other. He goes on to talk about how the individual and society constantly play off one another, and concludes by mentioning Hegel’s Hero.
The view which I would hope to discourage is the view which places great men outside history and sees them as imposing themselves on history in virtue of their greatness…” (67). Carr then goes on to lovingly quote Hegel’s definition of his Hero’s interaction with his society. In Hegel’s formulation, the Hero “can put into words the will of his age… he can actualize his age (68).
In other words, Carr’s view of history fits nicely with Hegel’s Hero: the “Great Men” of history do not materialize out of thin air, free from determinant conditions and then impose their will on everyone around them. Instead, the Hero interacting with and taking cues from society produces history.
He then moves on to examining history, science and morality. History, in Carr’s estimation, is clearly distinct from other forms of science, specifically the “hard” sciences. One reason for this qualitatively distinct character is the nature of the object to the subject, or the scientist to the subject. While Carr casts doubt on the pure objectivity of even the “hard” sciences, he is much more clear that history is clearly very subjective.
He then goes on to examine values in writing about history, and how the historian must stand at a distance from their subject and not condone or disapprove of personal decisions. The historian’s job is to write about what happened, not tell people why it was wrong or right.
“The serious historian is the one who recognizes the historically conditioned character of all values, not the one who claims for his own values an objectivity beyond history. The beliefs which we hold and the standards of judgment which we set up are part of history, and are as much subject to historical investigation as any other aspect of human behaviour. Few sciences today-least of all, the social sciences-would lay claim to total independence. But history has no fundamental dependence on something outside itself which would differentiate it from any other science” (109).
Carr then moves on to look at causation in history. He looks at, what he calls, two “red-herrings” in history: Determinism in History, and Chance in History.
Carr’s definition of determinism (121) focuses on understanding the causes of effects, and being able to point to an effect and clearly identify the cause as the only way that this fact could have come about. He takes time to parry with those who would focus on Marx and Hegel’s potentially deterministic aspect of their approach to understanding history. He paints these critics as being overly simplistic, and arguing that, because contingency does seem to exist, determinant action can not. He seems to conclude this argument by claiming that, “the fact is that all human actions are both free and determined,” and thus, understanding the causes requires a nuanced approach (124).
He then goes on to look at the causes of the death of an individual. This person, Robinson, went out for cigarettes and was hit by a car. Carr wonders what the real cause of the death was.
Rational causes are causes that can be understood and applied for a purpose, or, read, for a value judgment. If we thought that we could learn something by the fact that Robinson was a smoker and he died going out to buy cigarettes, that would be a rational cause. Since it falls to the realm of chance, we say that it is accidental. Carr is not saying that rational causes are not bound up with value judgments, but simply that our value judgments make some causes rational, and some accidental.
Carr then moves on to look at history as progress. “History is progress through the transmission of acquired skills from one generation to another” (151). Progress does not have a finite beginning or end. Thirdly, progress does not progress linearly.
Then, there is the problemetization of objectivity: in the writing of history, it is akin to claiming that you have more successfully written a history that mirrors the accepted values of the society in which you live. Carr then moves onto the claim that brings the book together: one must understand the past, present and future to understand history. “History acquires meaning and objectivity only when it establishes a coherent relation between past and future” (173).
