|
|
|
Anniversary Forum
Drunks, Lampposts, and Environmental History
J. R. McNeill
| FUTURE AGENDAS in environmental history will be set fairly democratically, by the hundreds of scholars deciding what to work on and how to do it. To some extent, of course, those decisions will be shaped by the examples of admired scholars or by the siren call of paths of least resistance. But young people are often keen to do things differently from their elders, and often inclined to seek rather than shun the difficult paths—as they should be. Nonetheless, we elders (I am 49) are rarely reluctant to try to set agendas—nor should we be, as long as we do not mind much when our suggestions are ignored. |
1
|
|
What I propose here is what I would like to see happen within environmental history, not what I expect to see. Mine is an academic agenda only, although in these parlous times I am more tempted than ever to suggest, as I trust others will, that the most urgent duty of environmental history is to abandon the shelter of ivory towers for the blood-spattered arena of public discourse and the dangerous task of infiltrating the corridors of power. |
2
|
|
My proposition is twofold: first, that environmental history—by its very nature an interdisciplinary pursuit—should become still more so, and second, that it should strengthen its links to mainstream currents within the discipline of history. At first blush it will appear self-contradictory to call simultaneously for greater interdisciplinarity and stronger ties to a single discipline. I argue that this is not a contradiction, but a feasible and synergistic agenda. |
3
|
|
Environmental history necessarily draws on and overlaps with several academic traditions. The frontier zones between environmental history and historical geography or historical ecology, for example, are murky regions with few established rules, middle grounds where profitable exchanges and unprofitable sniping coexist. Interdisciplinary work sometimes seems undisciplined, without clear methodology, or, as Marshall Sahlins once put it, a procedure by which one multiplies the uncertainties of one's own discipline by those of several others. Allowing for the risks, I still think environmental historians should embrace interdisciplinarity more fully. |
4
|
|
The reason for embracing interdisciplinarity, risks and all, is simple: That is where we are most likely to find something new. For more than a century academics in general have behaved like the drunk searching for his car keys beneath the lamppost, not because that is where he lost them but because that is where the light is. Academic knowledge and inquiry remain structured by the disciplines that arose in German universities in the nineteenth century. They shone powerful beams of light that were very illuminating for a long time. But over time, as more and more of that which could be found within the beams was found, they became progressively less useful as a means of generating new insight. Researchers reached points of diminishing returns, but often preferred meager returns to the risks of searching in the darkness between the beams. Nowadays, the most exciting and rewarding fields, such as brain science or global-change science, are ones that span the traditional disciplines. Environmental history is admirably well positioned to redirect the light into the murk, to the benefit of all. |
. . . |
There are about 617 more words in this article.
Please log in (or, if you are not yet an
authorized user, please go to the
User Setup page) to gain full access rights. Or if you're already logged in register your subscription.
|
