In 1926: living at the edge of time - Monoskop

AFTER LEARNING FROM HISTORY
It's about time, at least for professional historians, to respond seriously
to a situation in which the claim that "one can learn from history" has
lost its persuasive power. A serious response-beyond merely repeating
apologetic discourses and gestures-would certainly have to address the
paradox that books about the past continue to attract a growing number
of readers, and that history as a subject and as a discipline remains
unchallenged in most Western systems of education, whereas professors,
academic administrators, and those who pay tuition all somehow feel
that the legitimizing discourses about the functions of history have degenerated
into ossified rituals. Perhaps we would miss their decorative
pathos if they disappeared from history books and in commencementday
speeches; perhaps we would be sad if the past ceased to be a topic
in quiz shows and a point of reference in the rhetoric of some politicians.
But nobody relies on historical knowledge in practical situations anymore.
In the closing years of the twentieth century, people no longer
consider history to be a solid ground for everyday decisions about financial
investments or environmental crisis management, about sexual mores
or preferences in fashion. To respond seriously to this change would
mean that professional historians (of politics, culture, literature, and so
on) would have to begin thinking about its consequences-without being
apologetic, and without feeling obliged to prove wrong those who, never
expecting to learn from history, have no use for all the knowledge about
the past that we preserve, publish, and teach. It is true, however, that
sometimes those contemporaries enjoy reading what we write. Could
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