CONVERSATIONS ON JEFFERSON AND JEFFERSONIAN POLITICS

 
Assessing Historical Methods


 
From the H-SHEAR, subject: "Scholars' Commission: Inquiry or Inquisition?":

Richard B. Bernstein:
Further reflection on this thread raises an interesting question about the use of scholars' commissions in the historical profession.

The Thomas Jefferson Heritage Society, Inc. (TJHSInc) organized its Scholars Commission to conduct an inquiry into the controversy surrounding relations between Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings; the Scholars Commission's stated mandate was to inquire into the entire matter, not merely to assess the historical scholarship.

Let us assume, however, for the purposes of this discussion that its mandate indeed was limited to an assessment of historical scholarship.

In my experience and understanding of how historians assess and have assessed one another's historical scholarship, the only time that such a commission is required is when the integrity of a given work of historical scholarship -- not merely its accuracy, but its integrity -- and, by extension, the integrity of that work's author or editor come into question.

There are two notable categories of such inquiries into scholars' integrity:

-- those convened to assess charges of pplagiarism brought against a scholar. A well-known recent example was sparked by the uproar touched off when scholars who had devised what they described as a computer program that could detect plagiarism used it to assess Stephen Oates's WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE: THE LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN. The result of the inquiry was that Prof. Oates was reproved for (and acknowledged) carelessness but that he was exonerated of the charges of plagiarism.

-- those convened to assess chargers of historical forgery. The most famous example is the Horn Papers hoax from the late 1940s. William F. Horn presented to a local county historical society in Pennsylvania a vast treasury of papers and artifacts pertaining to the exploration and settlement of western Pennsylvania in the mid-18th century. The society then published an elaborate and well-produced edition of these papers, generally known as THE HORN PAPERS. Julian P. Boyd (in his pre-Jefferson days, a noted expert on the history of western Pennsylvania) charged that the Horn papers were forgeries. A superb account of the resulting inquiry can be found in Trevor Colbourn, ed., FAME AND THE FOUNDING FATHERS: ESSAYS OF DOUGLASS ADAIR. The result was that the inquiry declared the Horn Papers forgeries, but forbore to identify the forger.

These inquiries have three features in common:

* First, they were convened after direct charges of malfeasance -- willful breach of the integrity expected of historians -- by the scholar[s] in question.

* Second, the inquiries were convened and overseen by impartial organizations with no stake in the outcome.

* Third, the scholars on whom the inquiries focused were indeed invited to appear before the inquiries and assist those conducting the inquiries.

None of these features is present in the case of the Scholars Commission convened and sponsored by the TJHSinc -- raising further questions about the nature of its inquiry, about its purposes, and about the attempt to justify its work by claiming that it was simply convened to inquire into the production of a particular work or works of historical scholarship.

Originally posted on H-SHEAR, April 20, 2001.


 
Eyler Coates
    Richard Bernstein provides us with an analysis that his own "experience and understanding" has indicated to be the "only time that such a commission [as the TJHS sponsored Scholars Commission] is required," and that, he asserts, occurs "when the integrity of a given work of historical scholarship... and, by extension, the integrity of that work's author or editor come into question." In order to assess the mission of the Scholars Commission, Bernstein assumes "for the purposes of this discussion that its mandate indeed was limited to an assessment of historical scholarship," thus setting up a straw man which he may then use to critique the Scholars Commission, rather than examining the actual mission of that entity itself. That is like assuming "for purposes of discussion" that the United States of America were a monarchy, and then launching into a discussion of the short-comings of monarchial government.

    Nevertheless, Bernstein's critique displays certain interesting features of its own. Bernstein outlines his understanding of the only times "such a commission is required," and then launches into a categorization of proper inquiries of the type he has postulated, together with the features such inquiries have in common. He then concludes that "none of these features is present in the case of the Scholars Commission." Bernstein's obviously sets out to discredit the Scholars Commission, and even assigns it a mission "for purposes of discussion" which was not that commission's own mission. Should anyone be surprised that the conclusion finds no justification for the Scholars Commission?

    Besides being a completely invalid way of examining a real, existing organization, this fictionalized assumption of the organization's mission followed by a recitation of limitations if the organization in fact had that mission, displays an inordinate obsession with authority and tradition. It is equivalent to saying, Commissions convened to examine historical scholarship have had certain characteristics in the past, therefore all future commissions must have the same characteristics if they are to be considered legitimate. In such a view, historical scholarship is not only an investigation of the past, but any critiques of that scholarship must be limited to the methods and techniques employed in the past also.

    Needless to say, such a rigid approach to historiography is hardly a prescription for a dynamic, evolving field of learning. Moreover, Bernstein's analysis is loaded with conditions that are irrelevant and inapplicable in the present case. The Scholars Commission was not convened to assess charges of malfeasance directed against any specific scholar or scholars. It was convened to investigate an entire topic of inquiry, i.e., Thomas Jefferson's alleged paternity of the children of Sally Hemings. The Scholars Commission was not overseen by any outside organization, but consisted of a group of fiercely independent, highly competent scholars who directed their own inquiries. The Scholars Commission did not consider inquiries into the findings of any particular scholars, but only into the facts and evidence related to the question, Was Thomas Jefferson the father of the children of Sally Hemings? Individuals and groups make similar inquiries all the time. Indeed, Annette Gordon-Reed, whose work Bernstein admires so much, launched such an inquiry into this whole area, and in the course of doing so inquired into the past writings of a number of scholars. This she did acting as an individual, a commission of one, without the limitations that Bernstein would impose.

    Therefore, Bernstein's analysis has no value at all for assessing the legitimacy of the Scholars Commission's mission. Rather, it appears to be a feeble attempt to set up artificial criteria for judging that mission in order to build support for a set of opinions that Bernstein so ardently wishes to promote. It is a veiled attempt to assert officious-sounding reasons for restricting free and open inquiry and for stifling discussion and debate.

    August 2, 2001


 
From the H-SHEAR, subject: "Hemings-Jefferson: a new approach":

Eyler Coates, Sr.:
The basic problem in all this is that the case against Thomas Jefferson is lacking in any direct, solid evidence. It is based almost entirely on accusations by his political enemies and on other circumstantial evidence which lends itself easily to a selective presentation. This is especially true since there is so much circumstantial evidence, none of it is conclusive, and much of it is rather complicated. The result is, a person who is not meticulously careful, who does not take cognizance of every little piece of the puzzle, can mold the evidence into something that fits his or her predilections almost unawares and, based on what that person considers relevant, produce simplistic conclusions that seem absolutely reasonable to someone who is not familiar with all the intricate details.

Apparently, historiographical methods fail when the evidence is extensive, circumstantial, complicated, and contradictory, and when there are strong inclinations for the researcher to adopt a particular point of view. Historians are particularly vulnerable to this, because historians are, after all, in part fiction writers. They take raw pieces of data and try to breathe life into them, based on their own scholarly background and their grasp of the general situation they are studying. It is extremely difficult for them to retain a detached viewpoint and still become absorbed in their material. And if, as in the Jefferson-Hemings controversy, they have strong identifications with aspects of the story, their biases and predilections easily express themselves in the resulting history, whether they are aware of it or not. How does this happen? Mostly by selectively simplifying the evidence and presenting only that which includes "Relevant Connections Only," as Prof. Gordon-Reed states above her book's genealogical tables. But whenever someone who is arguing a case tells you only what is relevant, you can be sure that it is relevant only to the theory the arguer has already formed. And as Thomas Jefferson wrote,

"The moment a person forms a theory, his imagination sees, in every object, only the traits which favor that theory." --Thomas Jefferson to Charles Thompson, 1787. ME 6:312

Originally posted on H-SHEAR, May 29, 2001.

 
Richard B. Bernstein:
I conclude by noting Mr. Coates's embrace of postmodernism's gospel about historians perpetrating fiction. If one raises the specter of postmodern blending of history and fiction to apply it to advocates of a historical interpretation that one dislikes, one can hardly be invulnerable to the same charge returned.

I point out to Mr. Coates that Annette Gordon-Reed's careful attention to the ideological and racial assumptions underlying those scholars who for decades disputed the Jefferson-Hemings relationship (including Henry S. Randall, Dumas Malone, Merrill Peterson, Douglass Adair, and Virginius Dabney) fits nicely with his own invocation of postmodern views of the relationship between history and fiction. Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.

I conclude by noting, once again, that until I had read Annette Gordon-Reed's fine book, I had been a doubter of the truth of the Jefferson-Hemings relationship. I wish that my old mentor, Henry Steele Commager, could have read her book; he was courageous enough to acknowledge error and abandon a false position when presented with fact, evidence, and argument sufficient to require a shift of ground.

Originally posted on H-SHEAR, May 29, 2001.

 
Eyler Coates, Sr.:
Prof. Bernstein notes that "if one raises the specter of postmodern blending of history and fiction to apply it to advocates of a historical interpretation that one dislikes, one can hardly be invulnerable to the same charge returned," and that is of course quite correct. ALL history contains some elements of fiction. They are indispensable in helping flesh-out a story, and are acceptable if they stay within the scope of probable events. The question is not whether the historian uses the techniques of fiction to enrich the story of history, but whether he or she expands those techniques beyond proper boundaries and creates a history that never happened.

So what should a historian do? The historian's expertise lies in evaluating the evidence. One possible approach is, in historical situations that are fairly clear cut and non-controversial, the historian can justly expand the material in ways that knowledge and experience dictate are safe and certain. But in those replete with tons of contradictory circumstantial evidence, when there are inflammatory issues involved, especially issues such as race, feminism, and sex, it is incumbent upon the historian, if the resulting product is to be a fair account, that he or she stick strictly to the facts and the evidence, and elaborate upon them as little as possible. The historian should switch from being a story teller to being more like a scientific observer in such highly controversial situations. If there is insufficient evidence, say so! If there is contradictory evidence, say that! The approach to history should expand or contract, depending on the quality of the materials before the historian. If all or most of the evidence is in agreement, the historian has the basis for a good story; if most of it is contradictory, then the historian should narrow the focus and reduce the breadth of interpretations.

But notice the books on the Jefferson-Hemings story. If anything, they do just the opposite. Whether it is Gordon-Reed's book, or E. M. Halliday's "Understanding Thomas Jefferson," when they come to the Sally Hemings story, the pages are filled with "must have been" and "must have realized" and "may have had" and similar phrases used to interject the writer's imagination, to the point where anyone who is seeking a straightforward explanation of the facts is ready to throw up their hands in despair. Almost everything becomes a matter of supposition and speculation.

I cannot and will not answer for what historians in the past have done. It is quite enough trying to address the problems of this issue today, with all that we now know, without trying to justify or excuse what others have done in the past. I believe that most past historians dismissed the story because it just did not fit with their overall estimate and understanding of Thomas Jefferson. They gave it short shrift. Today, we give it longer shrift, and perhaps for that reason we reach different conclusions than they did.

Prof. Bernstein's admiration for Henry Steele Commager is commendable. Let us hope that he and other historians living today are "courageous enough to acknowledge error and abandon a false position when presented with fact, evidence, and argument sufficient to require a shift of ground." Let us hope that all will re-examine the issues in this Jefferson-Hemings matter and endeavor to look narrowly at the facts, not at the "might have been" speculations, and that they will separate out the racial considerations that would warp a search for historical reality, and examine fairly and justly what actually lies before them that pertains to whether Thomas Jefferson fathered the children of Sally Hemings. The thirteen totally independent scholars of the Scholars Commission did just that, and all thirteen thought there was insufficient evidence to conclude definitely that Thomas Jefferson was the father of those Hemings children, with only one thinking it was slightly more likely than not that he fathered Sally Hemings's last child, Eston. Every historian should become familiar with their findings, and they are freely available at www.oocities.org/tjshcommission/.

Originally posted on H-SHEAR, May 31, 2001.

 

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