Several years ago I had the opportunity to visit an
old friend I had not seen in years. During the course of our conversation, he
told me how relieved he was that he had chosen a career in the sciences.
According to my friend, his course work at college involved a series of
concrete facts that remained constant throughout human history. I found this
puzzling considering that, throughout human history, the scientific community
has revised and expanded their original conception of natural phenomenon. At
the time, it was easy for me to disparage my friend; he obviously lacked my intellectual
sophistication. However, I quickly came to realize that I held a similar view
during my undergraduate years, so maybe I was not as intellectually superior as
I had originally thought. This left me with a puzzling question: Why do intelligent
people have such a narrow view of the world around them?
One cogent explanation is that humans absorb and
process information that conforms to their biases, discarding conflicting
evidence that does not conform to their worldview. Public historians must be
cognizant of these inherent biases as they interact with a diverse public. Many
visitors view history as a collection of facts celebrating their perception of
a shared identity; they vociferously protest new interpretations that threaten
their identity. For example, in the last few years conservatives have
excoriated public historians who diverge from the traditional interpretation of
the United States as a nation comprised of illustrious men who fought for
liberty and justice for all. Recent scholarship has demolished this caricature of
the past, but many conservatives remained bitterly opposed to these new
interpretations, fearing they may destroy the fabric of the nation.
The question remains: How do public historians
navigate this contested terrain while, at the same time, presenting diverse
narratives and new evidence. Unfortunately, I do not have a satisfactory answer
to this question. It is almost impossible to predict who will be offended by an
exhibit. Of course, this might be the core of the problem. Instead of encouraging
debate, public historians have resigned themselves to making history boring at
the expense of creating dynamic new museums and historic sites. It might be
advisable for public historians to become vocal themselves like Mr. Limbaugh
(excluding the hyperbole and idiocy that comes with the Limbaugh brand) and aggressively
promote and defend their institutions. As docents begin tours, they could
briefly lecture about the historiography of a theme or topic, acknowledging
conflicting views. While this has the potential to irritate visitors who simply
want a neat and concise story, it seems to be the most advisable solution.
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