Why do we study history? Especially ancient history? I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard people say that things which happened in the distant past don’t affect us today, so why should we care? Well-known historical podcaster Dan Carlin has similarly expressed hearing this lamentation on multiple occasions. Having developed a taste for history as a young child that blossomed into a full-blown obsession early in adulthood, the question leaves me almost speechless with incredulity. And yet, it seems to be a relatively common refrain.
For me, continually seeking out “new” history to study, the very opposite is true. I’ve come to feel that the study of history is a necessary precursor to understanding almost anything else. Okay, so that may seem a bit over the top, but think about it for a second. What modern development in the field of chemistry is a stand-alone achievement? Is there not a history behind that development? A line-up of events that leads to the ultimate breakthrough? For physics, medicine, geology, you name the field, and developments in every single one build upon the ignorance, discoveries, mistakes, and advances of the past. Modern developments depend upon these historical precedents and there’s just no escaping it. The past is indeed prologue.
So what exactly is history? Really nothing more or less than the story of humanity. The story of you, me, and our ancestors going back to the first chiseled marks on stone. History is the constant, on-going tide of human happenings that provide a context within which any current or future human endeavor takes place. And, importantly, history is constantly adding to its portfolio. This blog becomes a part of history the moment I hit post. Not because it is significant in any way (whatsoever!), simply because a human did it.
This, then, is what has drawn me so strongly to the study of history. Since constant human interaction ensures that what one of us does invariably affects others, historical events are all inextricably connected. The result being that the casual research of one event most often results in tendrils of study in multiple directions as various causes and conditions are examined in order to determine, ultimately, why something happened the way we know it did. Throw in those writers of history who wanted to alter future perceptions of the events of their time, and the number of those historical tendrils can increase dramatically, making it that much more difficult to truly understand any given historical event.
It all becomes a bit of a game to get inside the head of historical actors to try to see what they saw and understand—TRULY understand—why they acted the way they did. No fair using our wonderful ability to look backward and simply label an action as “dumb” or a decision as “uninspired" because we know how it all panned out. The guy or girl on the ground at the time couldn't see the future, and so this approach to history offers nothing whatsoever of benefit.
By comparison, there’s almost nothing I enjoy more than researching military blunders of the past. Taken at face value, some commander did something really stupid and a battle was lost. Often, this is all that makes it into the history books given competing demands for space, paper, ink, or simply time. Digging deeper, however, I often find myself agreeing with the “poor” decision given the circumstances at the time, the political-military context within which the leader acted, and the information available to them at the time. Quite often, in fact, I conclude that the commander could not have acted other than the way they historically had. This type of realization has often changed the way I’ve come to view key moments in history.
The whole point is to really examine, within the context of the time period in question, why people did what they did, and what effects these actions had on the people and places around them. Only then have we reaped a tangible reward from our study of the past. Only then can we discover insights into the human condition that can be applied to situations in the present and future. Only then can the past become a useful and instructive prologue for our lives.
M. G. Haynes