While recently writing an article on local history for
publication in an academic journal, I realized that the scholarship of local
history is often met with a dismissive sort of condescension by some historians.
Somehow, it seemed to me, that if you were a scholar of local history you were sometimes
received within the academy as professionally akin to a ‘backyard archaeologist”
i.e. someone who digs in his own garden in search of relics rather than going
elsewhere—anywhere—to execute a “proper” dig. Truth be told, I do not believe
that this is in any way a fair assessment and I shall try to deconstruct this
notion and attempt to reinstitute another, more equitable one in favour of
situating local history scholarship as an undervalued, arguably emergent and
understudied field within the greater history academy.
For one thing, history’s “Big Events” are universally
recognized and are undeniably familiar to the common layperson and history
scholar, alike. All I need to say are things like: the Black Death, the French
Revolution, the Civil War and immediately one conjures images related to one’s
knowledge (or “myth-knowledge”) of a
long-standing tradition of well-documented and perhaps over-popularized
event(s). In historic scholarship (independent of historic fiction) key figures
or “players,” so to speak, appear as the “stars” of these events, common men
and women or royal pedigree notwithstanding, each possessing the familiar
qualities of Hollywood-esque characters. Figures such as Henry VIII or Hitler,
Julius Caesar and Abraham Lincoln are often examined, analyzed and portrayed in
“bigger-than-life” scholarly fashion as if they were the dei ex machina--the gods from the machine—with the machine being
the history academy, itself, as the proselytizer of what has become the traditional
norms of historic scholarship.
Now, it is not my intent to appear harsh, here. On the
contrary, I am attempting to exemplify the universal mass appeal of traditional
history scholarship as it relates to relatively familiar subjects (including
facts, dates and events). What my argument is, is this: perhaps these subjects
are familiar because this is
what/who/when/where historians are studying and writing about rather than the other way around. For example, who ever heard
about a history course about old Joe, the pioneer huntsman who singlehandedly
built his log cabin after clearing a road through the woods get to his land? I
venture to say, NOBODY! Now, old Joe
might show up as a fictionalized character in a mini-series like the Hatfield’s & McCoy’s, but if he does
it won’t be as the star of the story. Instead, it will be as a sub-character
within the main plot. But, what if old Joe was the runaway ex-slave of a
plantation owner, so onerous that he had been murdered by his slaves who fled
in fear of their lives, some of whom made their way to freedom in Canada through
the Underground Railroad? This story
might be more interesting and therefore more worthy of further investigation—perhaps
by someone who was a scholar within the field of African-American/Canadian History.
In truth, what historian would actually set out to study or investigate someone
or something of which he was not at least marginally interested? I sincerely
hope none.
With respect to the scholarship of local history, its
initial appeal may indeed be limited to those who are curious about the
community in which they live. This may come about after passing a designated
landmark building or stopping by to read a blue heritage plaque in front of it.
Other times, the search starts from a need to research or find out about an
ancestor or local public figure and may tie into a local story or legend that
is somewhat familiar. The question as to why a person becomes interested in
local history is in some ways arguably moot. After all, all history is local
somewhere in time and space. Perhaps a more important question begs an answer—why
study history in the first place? Do we want to discover a bunch of facts and
then keep them to ourselves? Certainly not for most scholars—the whole point is
to publish and share their findings or theories. In other words, the key point
of good scholarship is to inform or as I would coin it: make history accessible--either
as a topic of conversation, thought or something warranting further
investigation, for the general public as well as other historians. That way,
the scholarship moves forward and grows. So does its purported status and educational
value.
Perhaps, on one hand, the biggest difference between
studying local history versus studying more familiar or traditional historical
topics like “the Romans” or “the Middle Ages” is that it may somehow seem less
important in the grand scheme of things. Local historians, it may be argued, study
the “little stories” rather than “big stories.” To the local historian, the
little stories add up and in part, help to form and inform others about their
community’s identity and cultural heritage fabric close to home and even
sometimes abroad when one stops to consider the effect that local history scholarship may have on tourism
and the local economy. I would suggest, however, that any historian is engaged,
in part, in the study of little stories. Little stories that add up to big
stories, that is.
One could argue that the big stories, then, are merely a
compendium of a lot of little stories or Histories—some of these histories are
lesser known than others which is why some of us study local history. When walking through the local park, I want
to know how it came to be. When I walk down my street I want to know where its
name came from. When I read a heritage plaque or visit a local community
museum, I want to know more about the stories in my own backyard because it
tells me about where I live and how it developed over time. Better still, I
want to know how it started and who started it. I am looking for how I belong
in my community. I am looking for meaning.
I cannot pretend that I don’t relish sitting down with a
good scholarly account of Elizabethan England or the Bronze Age in Britain. I
love to study and read what others have studied and I fully appreciate their
contribution to the scholarship of historical figures and events. I merely make
the case that local history historians also contribute to the scholarship of
history—it’s just that they do it from their own back yards rather than from someone
else’s front porch, so to speak.
When local (regional or federal) governments cut the budgets
of community museums or vote to tear down significant heritage buildings that
are replete with little (and sometimes big) stories, I am both saddened and
dismayed at the apparent short-sightedness but am nonetheless even more aware
that local history is rarely valued. Think, for example, of someone deciding to
tear down Westminster Abbey because they wanted to build a new highway straight
through it. It just wouldn’t happen but on a local level, this kind of rampant
disregard for “old buildings” often is synonymous with “collateral damage” in
the name of progress. I cannot help but wonder if more local historians
published their scholarship and garnered more public awareness and respect for
their work perhaps this short-sightedness of governments (and the general
public) would abate or at the very least, slow down so we could slow down,
re-group and take value back from what we may be losing as a result of
so-called budgetary cuts.
I am proud to say that I, a local historian, will continue
to advocate for the re-evaluation of local history scholarship in the academy
and by the general public by living it, writing about it and teaching it to all
I encounter. The little stories I share are the accounts of people’s lives from
the past in the present and it is my intent to catalogue them for future
reference—call it my community’s legacy.
After all, if
artifacts tell a story, why aren’t stories artifacts?
