What if Thucydides, the great Greek historian of the 5th century B.C., had lived into his 90th year, and, before he died, was called upon to share with a large crowd of his fellow Athenians his thoughts on history?
How about imaging a similar scene, in the early second century A.D., featuring the wisdom of Tacitus, one of the greatest Roman historians? In this vision, he would be brought into one of the Roman amphitheaters to talk with interested citizens about the art of history and his appraisal of the condition of the empire.
These fantasies came to my mind as I listened to the historian Arthur Schlesinger, who was born in 1917, the same year as John F. Kennedy whom he served as an advisor and speechwriter in the White House. My imagined parallels with the greatest historians of classical times admittedly do not fit exactly, but this recent scene was certainly dramatic and moving for some of us Americans now, as the two others scenarios would surely have been for citizens of Greece and Rome.
Sitting in a wheelchair in the auditorium at the Kennedy Library, Schlesinger had listened to a panel discussion in which three of his younger colleagues praised him as an eminent model of the historian. Doris Kearns Goodwin, Sean Wilenz, and Alan Brinkley all had acknowledged their debt to him as an inspiration in their own careers.
Then the guest of honor was handed the microphone and, from his wheelchair, he delivered his reflections about both the art of history and the importance that a knowledge of history holds for our nation. He spoke in occasionally halting but nonetheless resolute voice, and his remarks were greeted by loud applause from a large and enthusiastic audience.
This is the man who inherited the vocation of his father, also a historian bearing the same name. Like his father, Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. taught at Harvard. After serving in the Kennedy administration, he returned to scholarship. In the course of his career, he wrote some highly significant books about major figures in American life, notably a 1957-1960 three-volume work on Franklin Roosevelt. Much earlier, in 1945, he had crafted a book about Andrew Jackson and portrayed him as one of the greatest agents of change in the presidency.
Speaking about his area of study, Schlesinger said: “History is to the nation as memory is to the individual.” Amplifying this conviction, he added: “As persons deprived of memory become disoriented and lost, not knowing where they have been and where they are going, so a nation, denied a conception of the past, will be disabled and delinked with its present.”
He quoted Winston Churchill: “The longer you look back, the further you can look forward.” Nonetheless, historians suffer from limitations like those of other people, unable “to seize on absolute truth” but always needing to revise the conceptions of the past.
For Americans, history is even more important because of our dominance in the world. “I believe history is a moral necessity,” said Schlesinger, “for a nation possessed of overweening power. It is the best antidote to the delusions of power.”
History can lead to self-knowledge and “self knowledge is the indispensable prelude to self-control, for the nation as well as for the individual. It should strengthen us to resist pressure to convert momentary impulses into moral absolutes.”
Turning to our country’s current situation, Schlesinger recalled a previous example of foolish action. “Vietnam was hopeless enough,” he said, “and to repeat the same arrogant folly 30 years later is a gross instance of national stupidity.”
Still, this man of experience remains hopeful. Maybe we Americans can learn from the past how to use our power. “Let’s not bully our way through life,” he advises, “but let a growing sense of history temper our use of that power.”
As for the study of history: “This is the excitement of historical writing,” Schlesinger concludes, “the search to reconstruct what went before, the quest to be illuminated by those ever changing prisms that continually place old questions in a new light.”
Wisdom, many of us have discovered, does not automatically come with late life. By itself, age cannot make us any wiser than we were as young adults. Experience alone does not suffice; as Catherine Bateson reminds us, if you wish to grasp wisdom you must combine experience with reflection.
That’s what makes me appreciate Arthur Schlesinger. He draws lessons from history. Admittedly, this practice is not fashionable; in fact, some historians will tell you it is invalid. But, as a non-scholar generalist, I value applying historical experience to current problems.
Yes, the Vietnam War and the Iraq War differ. But there are resemblances that count for something. A lack of good judgment on the part of our political leaders characterizes both. In alerting us to these parallels Arthur Schlesinger is a prophetic voice.
Richard Griffin