The Founding of Liberia Luther and Catherine the Great

¶ … open for interpretation: it always has been and it always will be. Throughout time, history has been revised and revised again; some perspectives or "takes" on history stick with particular generations only to be revised by the next. The reasons this happen can range from a new theoretical approach to the past that is used to new information uncovered that puts matters in a different light. The changing values of culture can cause historical persons and details to emerge out of the past with a new representative character, with more or less luster, for instance. As societies and civilizations change, so too changes the way in which history is viewed. One may take WW2, for instance. The victors of WW2, the Allies, set about writing a history of the war that favored the side of the victors, that painted them as the "good guys." Yet more recent revisionists have come out with a less flattering portrait of the victors -- one that is viewed as controversial because it does not support the "official" narrative or prop up the mainstream view. But this is but one example.

In the medieval world, the Christian perspective dominated the historian's viewpoint. History was read according to light of the Redeemer. In today's world, that light is hardly as popular (unless one's audience happens to be of that same medieval mindset). Historians do consider their audience when they set about describing the persons and places of the past. Like an artist on the stage they do most often attempt to cater to a particular set. Then again there is another kind of historian that goes against the grain, that does not accept what has been handed down by "official" channels and mainstream avenues. Considering that today's world is very much like the Orwellian depiction in 1984, it should not be surprising that revisionist historians should seek to set the past right, to seek to uncover the "truth," so to speak, about what really happened way back when and what it really means for us today.

But then again "truth" is also a controversial matter. Pontius Pilate asked, "Quid est veritas?" ("What is truth?") many years ago, and it is a question that is often repeated even in our own time. There is no consensus. There is differing of opinion as always. There is the balance of the objective and the subjective, but even these are never quite agreed upon by all persons, and so the matter of history becomes for most a very personal affair. After all, it is one's own engagement with the past that is really on the line. How one interprets it for oneself depends upon one's own worldview, one's own suspicions, one's own interpretive bias or tendencies in terms of thought-processes. Whether one judges the liberal reformation of the modern era in a positive light or in a negative light (or in a mixed light) may make all the difference in the world on how one views, for instance, Catherine the Great of Russia.

One's tendency to be sympathetic or to be judgmental, or to become impassioned when one discovers weakness of character on top of aberrations in intellect -- all of this may serve as part of the reason for why different views of historical matters emerge over time. We look through a glass darkly -- darkly because our own eyes are filmed over with years of accumulated opinions, speculations, formative lessons, dispositions, flaws, and feelings. Yet the historian is not to be a judge, and that too can sometimes be forgotten. Instead, it is the historian's duty to record history as it happened. Interpretation, when it occurs, should be as objective as possible -- and that means as truthful as possible. But even here it becomes necessary to unravel what is meant by truth. Even Socrates himself had a hard enough time teaching others what it was he meant when he talked about truth, and so the ancient words of Pontius Pilate continue to ring in our ears today: What is truth? Truth, it might be said, is that which corresponds to reality. Uncovering the reality then is what the historian should aim to do. Some come to the field with a shovel, others with a spade -- neither instrument prevents the other from making pronouncements about the whole of the field, either -- pronouncements that might be best left unmade, if one were to truly be honest in his assessment of the past.

Cristen Congar gives a more simplistic explanation of what historical revisionism entails, using the old story about George Washington and the cherry tree as an example. Ultimately, her take is that revisionism occurs when "scholars find inconsistencies or outright fallacies in historical narratives and make the necessary edits" (2). Yet, of course, deciding whether or not Washington was heroic depends, again, on how one judges the word "heroic." It is not just a matter of uncovering "facts" and straightening out the story. One's own sense of what it means to be good, bad, right, wrong comes, inevitably, into the mix. Even if one refrains from all judgment, one is more than likely to leave out some aspect of the story that might color it one way or the other or else throw in too much information so that the forest is missed for the trees. Congar does make one important point, however: revisionism as we know it today did not really get underway until after WW1. What happened at the end of that war, then, that made it necessary for revisionism to begin? That is one question that is certainly worth asking.

Looking back at history, though, we can see how stories have been told and re-told from one era to the next. The history of the Aztecs is a good example. Conquered by the Western world of Christendom, the story of the Aztecs was colored by a worldview that was much different than it is today. Today one is more likely to sympathize with the Aztecs and show some empathy towards them, their culture and their achievements, mainly because there is an academic push in scholarly spheres to promote nativism. This is surely the case in Pohl's essay "Aztecs: A New Perspective" which begins with a depiction of the ritual sacrifice of captives held at the Great Temple of Tenochtitlan. What Pohl does not do is attempt to paint the scene in a manner that is full of condemnation. On the contrary, Pohl seeks first to see the scene from the eyes of the Aztec believer. This is the essence of nativism, and it is what gives this historical account its different character from accounts told in early eras under more Old World regimes (as in the days of Britannia). Pohl, indeed, likens the Aztec ceremony of ritual sacrifice to the Roman triumphs (a stretch of the imagination, perhaps, but his point is understood -- both were expressions of victory). Pohl goes on to describe the beliefs of the Aztecs, demystifying them for modern readers and depicting them with an empathetic approach that is respectful and not condescending.

From there, Pohl describes the people of this civilization and their land and the Aztec capital and how it "was divided into four districts" just like a modern day city (10). Thus, Pohl makes the past recognizable in a way -- he relates the struggles of these peoples to the struggles that any modern reader is likely to be familiar with (impoverishment is one, for example -- most students today cannot afford to attend school because of their poverty and must do so via a loan from the federal government; invasion is another -- for the Aztecs, this was the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors; for today's reader, the invading armies may be "terrorists," Russians, Iranians -- whomever the MSM happens to be painting as the new enemy of the day). In the Old World, the Aztecs would have been described as "savages" by those who made no attempt to understand them or their practices (and they may have even be described as savages by those who did understand them and made that judgment based on their own sense of what they thought it meant to be civilized). For Pohl, the Aztecs were a civilized people -- and his assessment shows in the way he treats his subject, rationalizing their customs (such as their worship of the sun-god) with an earnest desire to have them appear human, with body and soul, like any other human of any other historical era.

Sean Price's essay entitled "How American Slavery Led to the Birth of Liberia" is a piece of revisionism that links slavery in the U.S. to the creation of modern Liberia in Africa. Whites in America (think WASPs) wanted freed slaves out of the U.S. -- so the American Colonization Society purchased land in Liberia and sent these blacks there so they could be back in Africa. Ironically, these blacks took with them the same sense of condescension they had picked up by the WASPs and were oppressive to the natives in Liberia. For decades turmoil reigned. This little piece of history sheds light on the racism inherent in the ideology of the founding fathers and how that racism was actually shipped across the Atlantic to Africa to be part of the African experience in Liberia. Perhaps, however, it is simply a matter of human nature to see oneself and one's group as special and superior to others. Price does not go into it in detail but the ramifications are clear: Liberia is a unique country in Africa whose history should be known better by students of American history.

Thurston's article "The World, The Flesh, and the Devil," looks at the reality behind the witch hunts of the European world from 1400 to 1700 and exposes some of the myths of earlier historians, such as the claim that the Catholic Church executed some 5 million women who it claimed were witches. The reality, as Thurston notes, was more likely 50,000 and most of that in the Rhine country where Protestantism was in vogue for most of this time. Thus Thurston's revisionism squares off against the Enlightenment/Protestant worldview of the past (which was biased towards the Catholic Church and saw nothing bad about exaggerating figures to make that institution look all the worse). In fact, in Catholic countries like Spain and France, such burnings at the stake were rare. Thurston notes that part of the reason that witch hunts were so sporadic through most of Europe at this time was that there was no clear consensus on whether demonology was even practiced, what it did if it was practiced, and even whether women were intrinsically evil. These were serious questions at the time made all the more confusing by the era in which they were asked, which was full of political and religious dissension and wars between communities. This article provides real insight into what good revisionism is all about -- setting straight the record by pointing out flaws in the approaches of earlier historians -- flaws such as biases and distortions of fact.

Derek Wilson's "The Luther Legacy" is a work of revisionism that favors Martin Luther in some aspects (he wanted all men to be able to read the Bible) yet finds him contemptible in others (he was mean towards Jews). This is revisionism that has a definite perspective that could even further be revised by a historian with a different take (for instance, one who did not think that Jews needed to be treated equally, or one who did not think translating the Bible in many languages by different persons would be a good thing). Thus, this essay, while being revisionist is an example of how just because something is revisionist doesn't mean that it takes away any confusion from a subject or adds nothing but clarity. The religious perspectives surrounding Luther, the Germans, the Catholic Church and the Protestants are deeply ingrained sometimes and the issues of this era were very complex and deserving of much attention. Therefore, simplifying the subject by saying Luther was good about this or bad about that may be an exercise in simplistic interpretation that is unwarranted and that actually does more harm than good. Luther is a historic person who is best left described as is without interpretation, allowing readers and students of history to discern for themselves what sort of man he was. If, as Wilson asserts, the Reformation was "an escape from discipline" (46) it does not necessarily mean for everyone that this escape was a good thing. Thus, differing opinions will still continue with regards to Luther, even today, as these issues have yet to be resolved and likely will never be, so long as Protestant, Jew, and Catholic maintain different lines of thought.

Eric Ives' essay "Will the Real Henry VIII Please Stand Up?" shows how modern Britain still clings to the idea that it owes its birth to Henry VIII, the monarch who through off the shackles of the Pope of Rome and allowed England to be independent. Yet, as Ives shows, this same monarch was born of an incestuous relationship and was most likely mentally insane. His behavior was questionable to say the least and it stands to reason, therefore, that perhaps England should rethink the debt of gratitude it imagines it owes to Henry. Yet, still, even on this subject, differing opinions will exist that will make this revisionist subject taboo and controversial for different peoples with differing worldviews. Some will be loyal to the memory of Henry as a good king in spite of his peculiarities and bad behaviors and others will view Henry with disdain, especially if they are supporters of Thomas More or John Fisher, men who died under Henry's orders. This is one subject that is bound to divide readers no matter what new facts or truths are uncovered.