In A New Philosophy of History, published in 1995, Frank Ankersmit and Hans Kellner have gathered a series of essays exploring the linguistic turn in the study of history. In the introduction to the collection, Kellner argues that "history can be redescribed as a discourse that is fundamentally rhetorical, and that representing the past takes place through the creation of powerful, persuasive images which can be best understood as created objects, models, metaphors or proposals about reality." (2) The essays discuss the nature and the impact of this turn toward language, describing a disciplinary shift from a focus on facts to a focus on meaning. They consider an important set of questions; they ask, as Berkhofer does, "What is the relationship between the historian in the present and the historical actors of the (postulated) past as mediated through the historian's text?" (174) On a more basic level, they ask, as Partner does, "How can we depend on words to connect us to reality?" (32) And finally, they react to the proposition that what we consider reality is no more than a social construction.
Predictably, given the discipline, the first section of the volume places this turn toward language in historical perspective. Nancy Partner suggests that since Herodotus the line between written history and fiction has shifted according to the cultural demands placed on historical knowledge, and that an insistence on factual accuracy over fictional representations of truth should be understood in cultural terms. While Partner takes the long view in historicizing the conventions of history writing, Richard Vann and Arthur Danto focus on the much shorter period around the linguistic turn itself. Vann begins in 1960 with the founding of the journal History and Theory, and concludes in 1975, tracing the journal's shift from discussions of positivist historical explanation and causality to debates about language and Hayden White's arguments about narrative. Danto, meanwhile, interprets the linguistic turn as a paradigm shift, inspired ironically enough by the conception of the paradigm shift in 1962 by Thomas Kuhn in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Before the shift, historical thought revolved around C.G. Hempel's "covering-law" models of historical explanation, but with the idea of the paradigm shift, Danto asserts, "Kuhn advanced a view of history so powerful that, rather than being an applied science, as Hempel holds history to be, history came to be the matrix for viewing all the sciences." (72) "This transformation was consolidated," he notes, "under the immense prestige of Foucault's archeologizing politics of science." (72) In Danto's view, history's linguistic turn was in fact an historical turn, and in light of Partner's insights, it was also a cultural turn. It involved a growing consciousness that what we perceive as reality is always filtered through language and culture, and that what we conceive as the past is available to us only through indeterminate representation. This consciousness challenges the foundational assumptions of the discipline, questioning the accessibility of, or even the existence of---or perhaps most disturbingly, the relevance of---such things as scientific truth, historical fact, and a unified past.
A central theme around which these problems have been elaborated is the concept of narrative. With the growing consciousness of language has emerged a concern for the implications of narrative, both on the level of the monograph, as detailed by Hayden White, and at the level of the disciplinary synthesis, or, as Robert Berkhofer has called it, the Great Story. Before Hayden White, as Vann notes, the narrative language of history was thought to be not only transparent, but often devoid of any historical explanation. Beginning with the essay "The Burden of History" published in 1966, and continuing with Metahistory in 1973, Hayden White shows that the narrative form of history-writing carries immense implicit explanatory weight. White argues that historical narratives follow the emplotments typical of fictional narratives, that these emplotments inescapably convey ideological judgments, and that the same event may be emplotted---and thereby explained---in different ways without sacrificing historical accuracy. History-writing, then, is not a scientific enterprise but an aesthetic one, and historical explanation, ultimately a question of ethics.
Allan Megill and Robert Berkhofer extend these concerns to the level of the Grand Narrative, or the Great Story, underscoring the political implications of a single authorized version of a universal past. Historicizing the notion of a universal history, Megill traces a progression of four attitudes toward the idea, beginning in the 18th century, when it was considered that there was a single universal history whose course was already known and determined by God, through the 19th century, when it was thought that there was a single universal history whose course was not yet known but could be determined through empirical research, to the early 20th century, when, although a universal history was still assumed, it was acknowledged that it could never be definitively written, and finally to the late 20th century, when the existence of a single unified past was called into question. As most of the contributers to this volume indicate, all historical accounts are written from a specific perspective, and reflect, as Danto puts it, the World according to X. Past reality, too, was always lived from a certain viewpoint, within a World according to X. In privileging certain historical accounts over others, we are privileging certain voices, past and present, over others, and this is inescapably a political act. It is also, of course, an inescapable act, given the nature of historical production. It would be neither possible nor interesting to detail all Worlds according to all Xs, and so we must privilege certain past voices and ignore others, and in doing so we make of the multiplicity of pasts a single unified version, which, as Berkhofer notes, finally privileges our own authorial voice as "the single, ultimate mediator between the past and the present. In the end," he says, "the historian's authority depends upon such a practice." (183) Further, Berkhofer points to the implications of this practice beyond the discipline, noting the importance of written history as a frame for identity and as a nationalist enterprise. "Whose and what viewpoint defines reality," he asserts, is "basic to the whole idea of hegemony." (177) History written from a Western, liberal, middle-class, white, Protestant, heterosexual, male perspective reproduces the naturalness and dominance of that perspective. A consciousness of these politics, I believe, is well worth the loss of a certain disciplinary cohesion.
Does the recognition that it is impossible to establish historical truth, then, paradoxically allow us to approach that truth more closely by making us more aware of the problems and the politics of knowing? Does this book present a coherent New Philosophy of History along these lines? In keeping with his view that the linguistic turn was in fact an historical turn, Danto argues that "the new philosophy of history is in effect a new understanding of ourselves as through and through historical," (85) which sounds hopeful for our discipline. Berkhofer calls for a new vision of historical authority, which can take into account a multiplicity of pasts as well as a multiplicity of voices. Megill, too, insists upon a consciousness of multiplicity and of fictionality in historical writing, and upon an ability to theorize across disciplines. All the contributors point to the importance of an awareness of the power language and of the politics of the authorial voice.
Perhaps the best way to define a new philosophy of history around these questions is to highlight the tensions inherent in historical writing; tensions between the worlds of the present and the worlds of the past in historical writing; tensions between a need to assume that reality is real and an understanding of reality as socially, culturally, linguistically, and historically constructed; tensions between a need to assume a single unified past and an understanding of the multiplicity of pasts; tensions between the conventions of objective distance and the demands for subjective judgment in approaching historical truth; and tensions between the inclusive and the exclusive functions of narrative and historical synthesis.
Even on this side of the linguistic turn, as Nancy Partner points out, we continue to act "as though invisible guardian angels of epistemology would always spread protecting wings over facts, past reality, true accounts, and authentic versions; as though the highly defensible, if not quite definitive version would always be available when we really needed it." (22) This is perhaps not as much of a problem as it might seem.
I assume that most of you remember Radika's metaphor about the blind men and the elephant. The metaphor recognizes the blindness of our search for historical truth, but it assumes that although we're blind, we've all managed to stumble upon the same elephant---that we're all poking away at a unified past reality. Further, the metaphor invites us to assume a doubled role where we're not only blindly patting at a trunk or a tail, but we're also omniscient viewers who can look down on the elephant as a totality and name it for what it is. I think that precisely in this doubleness, Radika's metaphor remains apt, that for the sake of disciplinary coherence we can treat our elephant as a unity, even as we acknowledge its multiplicity, to give it prior existence even as we reflect that it is us who have constructed it, and that we can continue simultaneously to assume roles of blindness and omniscience, especially if we continue to reflect on the politics of our doing so.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
A brief etymology of the contemporary failed state
Prior to the 1990s, the phrase “failed state” remained strictly utilized by those either writing about the economy or the natural sciences. Yet during the 1990s the term “failed state” quickly came into fashion[1], frequently in response to various crises in several third world nations, such as Sierra Leone, Liberia, Somalia or Haiti. Soon as the decade moved along, the term “failed state” had suddenly usurped the common title of “developing nation.” In addition the sentiments within such writing had shifted from humanitarian and economic explorations to security and intervention. The invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq accelerated the spread of its use, not only within scholarly studies but also within popular discourse. Noam Chomsky’s quaintly titled Failed States clearly capitalizes on this popularity by criticizing American foreign policy through an examination of, what he identifies as domestic failings of the American democratic system.[2] Although admirable, Chomsky never critically engages such a categorization, but rather resolves to simply question which nations are categorized and in what order they are put in. This paper will first briefly interrogate the etymology of the “failed state” and second look at some possible causes as to what caused this shift. Finally this paper will consider several intellectual questions pertaining to the reality of the “failed state”.
To begin, the “failed state” as a recently popular phrase is not mentioned in the Oxford English Dictionary’s definitions of state. Yet the Oxford Online Reference defined the “failed state” as:
A nation or comparable administrative jurisdiction in which essential infrastructure, including health services, law enforcement, and other necessities for collective and personal health and safety, has broken down because of lawlessness and anarchy. A sharp rise in all or most indicators of population ill health and premature death occurs in failed states.[3]
In this sense, the definition of a “failed state” exists internally. Meaning the state’s crisis can be located within clearly demarcated territorial borders. Furthermore the implied sentiments of this definition rely on the state’s inability to provide for the individuals that live within its territory. A state is thus a “failed state” if it cannot maintain civil order or reasonably prevent non state controlled violence or death. Yet as mentioned earlier, as the 1990s continued, the popularity of its usage corresponded with the perception of the failed state’s threat to the security of stable states: the first world.
Numerous scholars such as Daniel Thurer have determined that the three primary historical causes for “failed states” are the end of the cold war, colonial heritage, and technological and economic modernization.[4] All of these factors are firmly intertwined with questions of human rights and sovereignty, which are in turn concepts deeply rooted within the etymology of the state. According to the OED the word “state” can be interpreted as the natural manner or condition of existence[5] as well as the modern political concept of sovereignty or rule over territory[6]. Taking this into account, the utilization of “failed state” discursively determines as well as illegitimates governments. Not only that, but by unmistakably identifying a “failed state” the non-failing or stable states of the first world can normalize and legitimize its own government, by striving toward its ideal opposite. Not only that, but by unmistakably identifying a “failed state” and by striving toward its opposite, the non-failing or sustainable states of the first world can normalize and legitimize its own government. Thus, first world nations, such as the United States can further swell into its constructed self-perceived role as world policemen, intervening in states that threaten international security. Recent evidence of this popular discursive trend of intervention over sovereignty can be found in the propagation of non-government affiliated think tanks such as Fund for Peace or the “failed States Index” published by Foreign Policy. Consequently the clear endpoint is not self-determination of nations within an international system but rather intervention and tutelage in creating a stable and secure world.
In this paper I have briefly interrogated the origins of this relatively recent yet increasingly popular phrase. Locating it in the wake of the cold war, the concept of the “failed state” originally became attractive to many scholars who were apprehensive of what they saw as the intensifying instability of developing nations. These uncertainties inevitably shifted from a humanitarian concern for other nations to fears for the security of the current international system. I then looked to the etymology of the “state” and attempted to connect it to notions of natural existence as well as the political concept of sovereignty. In addition I brought into question supposedly objective measurements of failed, failing, and stable states. Furthermore, this paper explores the matter in which intervention policies are encouraged and legitimized as a result of these expert measurements and reports on failed states.
In conclusion this brief consideration of the etymology and current usage of the “failed state” leads to broader questions regarding expertise and its role in producing the reality it claims to objectively study. In the case of the “failed state” how do experts, academics, and intellectuals contend with their roles as legitimating intervention in “failed states” and in addition constructing the reality of stable or sustainable states. Finally to broaden this line of questioning, one can even begin to look at the “failed state” through questions such as ethics, space, culture, colonialism and modernity. Extending these questions thus provides further critique of historical conceptions of the state and contemporary state policy.
[1] Weiss, Thomas George. The United Nations and Changing World Politics (5th ed.), (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2007), 117.
[2] Chomsky, Noam. Failed States: The Abuse of Power and the Assault on Democracy, (New York, NY: Metropolitan Books, 2006), 1.
[3] "failed state" A Dictionary of Public Health. Ed. John M. Last, Oxford University Press, 2007. Oxford Reference Online. Oxford University Press. University of Washington. 14 October 2007
[4] Thurer, Daniel. “Der Wegfall effektiver Staatsgewalt: der 'Failed State'”, published in Berichte der Deutschen Gesellschaft für Völkerrecht, Vol. 34, Heidelberg, 1995, pp. 9-47. ICRC translation of the original German text http://www.icrc.org/Web/eng/siteeng0.nsf/iwpList314/438B7C44BDEAC7A3C1256B66005DCAAB
[5] I. Condition, manner of existing. 1. a. A combination of circumstances or attributes belonging for the time being to a person or thing; a particular manner or way of existing, as defined by the presence of certain circumstances or attributes; a condition. Sometimes qualified by an adj. or a following phrasal genitive.
state of nature: see
[6] 28. a. A particular form of polity or government. the state, the form of government and constitution established in a country; e.g. the popular state, democracy (cf. F. état populaire). state royal: a monarchy. Obs. b. A republic, non-monarchical commonwealth. Obs. c. transf. Applied to a University. Obs. 29. a. the state: the body politic as organized for supreme civil rule and government; the political organization which is the basis of civil government (either generally and abstractly, or in a particular country); hence, the supreme civil power and government vested in a country or nation. b. distinguished from ‘the church’ or ecclesiastical organization and authority. In the phr. church and state the article is dropped. 30. a. A body of people occupying a defined territory and organized under a sovereign government. Hence occas. the territory occupied by such a body.
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