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The Whig Interpretation of History
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152 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1931
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About the author
Herbert Butterfield
68 books31 followersSir Herbert Butterfield was a British historian and philosopher of history who is remembered chiefly for two books—a short volume early in his career entitled The Whig Interpretation of History (1931) and his Origins of Modern Science (1949). Over the course of his career, Butterfield turned increasingly to historiography and man's developing view of the past. Butterfield was a devout Christian and reflected at length on Christian influences in historical perspectives. Butterfield thought individual personalities more important than great systems of government or economics in historical study. His Christian beliefs in personal sin, salvation, and providence heavily influenced his writings, a fact he freely admitted. At the same time, Butterfield's early works emphasized the limits of a historian's moral conclusions, "If history can do anything it is to remind us that all our judgments are merely relative to time and circumstance."
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 73 reviews
June 6, 2016
An interesting read, Butterfield eloquently sets out an evaluation of the Whig school of thought, and deals successfully with the major faults of the tradition (its failure to appreciate the past for the past's sake, rather than as a means to an end, and its proclivity to view the past as an all-encompassing noun, rather than in specific detail).
Beyond this, Butterfield highlights some of the more nuanced habits of the Whig historian: the tendency to drag morality into history (where it doesn't belong) and to divide a line between right and wrong, always with the intention of reaffirming the Whig position, thus bestowing upon themselves the almost-divine power of judgement; the habit of simplifying the past as a single, determined route towards the ideal democratic state, with figures such as Luther simply fulfilling their roles in bringing about such an ideal society.
Butterfield therefore raises some crucial issues with regard to historiography and the study of history. The ideas discussed within this essay are at times very similar (perhaps not as a coincidence) to those discussed in Evans' 'In Defence of History', although the two essays were written roughly 60 years apart. Both historians raise the issue of historical bias, and the inevitable fact that a historian's personal views and opinions will impact both the subject of their work, and the style. The Whig approach therefore acts perhaps as an extreme symbol of this bias, and a warning of how history can be distorted when we fail to remain aware of our personal inclinations which may affect our work.
In addition, Butterfield considers how the historian should view the past from the perspective of the present, and the utility of the past for modern citizens. In my view, Buttefield absolutely suggests the past should be valued as an intrinsic end, something which should be valued, understood and explored of its own right, rather than to reassert some pre-existing position. However, Butterfield does not seem to contradict the idea that the past may offer some use, perhaps through exposing human nature or the power of chance? These questions remind me personally of a remark from Mary Beard during a lecture on her latest novel SPQR, as she commented that 'We have nothing to learn from the past'. From my perspective, whilst the past should not be viewed as a guidebook to 'learn from', and historians should not delve into the past in search of solutions to contemporary problems, the past undoubtedly does teach (but not in the didactic sense of the word)- whether on a personal level, with regard to family history, or on a universal level as a human being.
Butterfield also captures a very intriguing aspect of historical study in his comment that: "every age will have to write its history over again". This comment follows Butterfield's discussion of how a historian shapes the past from their present perspective, not necessarily in the extreme distortion of the Whigs, but with regard to phrasing and presentation, so that the past becomes familiar and understandable to their contemporary audience. As a result, Buttefield implies that as ages and social values change, so will our view of the past and consequently it will need to be reformulated. The Victorian era springs to my mind: their re-evaluation of the Classical age in light of the Victorian condemnation and taboo of sex; the creation of terms such as 'humanist'. It suggests that the work of a historian is perennial - reborn with each new spring of human society.
Whilst Butterfield's work clearly has laudable strengths, his style is dated (the frequent reference to a historian as male didn't fit with my inner feminist) and on a few occasions he begins to make broad statements of the past, which I suppose is inevitable but seems slightly hypocritical regarding his condemnation of the Whigs.
Beyond this, Butterfield highlights some of the more nuanced habits of the Whig historian: the tendency to drag morality into history (where it doesn't belong) and to divide a line between right and wrong, always with the intention of reaffirming the Whig position, thus bestowing upon themselves the almost-divine power of judgement; the habit of simplifying the past as a single, determined route towards the ideal democratic state, with figures such as Luther simply fulfilling their roles in bringing about such an ideal society.
Butterfield therefore raises some crucial issues with regard to historiography and the study of history. The ideas discussed within this essay are at times very similar (perhaps not as a coincidence) to those discussed in Evans' 'In Defence of History', although the two essays were written roughly 60 years apart. Both historians raise the issue of historical bias, and the inevitable fact that a historian's personal views and opinions will impact both the subject of their work, and the style. The Whig approach therefore acts perhaps as an extreme symbol of this bias, and a warning of how history can be distorted when we fail to remain aware of our personal inclinations which may affect our work.
In addition, Butterfield considers how the historian should view the past from the perspective of the present, and the utility of the past for modern citizens. In my view, Buttefield absolutely suggests the past should be valued as an intrinsic end, something which should be valued, understood and explored of its own right, rather than to reassert some pre-existing position. However, Butterfield does not seem to contradict the idea that the past may offer some use, perhaps through exposing human nature or the power of chance? These questions remind me personally of a remark from Mary Beard during a lecture on her latest novel SPQR, as she commented that 'We have nothing to learn from the past'. From my perspective, whilst the past should not be viewed as a guidebook to 'learn from', and historians should not delve into the past in search of solutions to contemporary problems, the past undoubtedly does teach (but not in the didactic sense of the word)- whether on a personal level, with regard to family history, or on a universal level as a human being.
Butterfield also captures a very intriguing aspect of historical study in his comment that: "every age will have to write its history over again". This comment follows Butterfield's discussion of how a historian shapes the past from their present perspective, not necessarily in the extreme distortion of the Whigs, but with regard to phrasing and presentation, so that the past becomes familiar and understandable to their contemporary audience. As a result, Buttefield implies that as ages and social values change, so will our view of the past and consequently it will need to be reformulated. The Victorian era springs to my mind: their re-evaluation of the Classical age in light of the Victorian condemnation and taboo of sex; the creation of terms such as 'humanist'. It suggests that the work of a historian is perennial - reborn with each new spring of human society.
Whilst Butterfield's work clearly has laudable strengths, his style is dated (the frequent reference to a historian as male didn't fit with my inner feminist) and on a few occasions he begins to make broad statements of the past, which I suppose is inevitable but seems slightly hypocritical regarding his condemnation of the Whigs.
January 22, 2014
Butterfield is a superb writer, and is obviously learned. Reading this book was like watching someone put five coats of high gloss paint on a rotten board. Relativistic to the core. Put me down as a whig.
July 5, 2008
Everyone interested in history should read this very short book. Though Whig historians are no longer in the ascendency, this is a good antidote for reading history as if it were a story that leads to your particular view of the present. I think everyone tends to read history as evidence of whatever they believe (certainly I fall into this often). Great quote from the book.
"History is all things to all men. She is at the service of good causes and bad. In other words she is a harlot and a hireling, and for this reason she best serves those who suspect her most."
"History is all things to all men. She is at the service of good causes and bad. In other words she is a harlot and a hireling, and for this reason she best serves those who suspect her most."
May 30, 2024
An excellent afternoon read to complicate the job of a historian. Butterfield examines the distasteful implications of a "Whig interpretation" of history. He guards against assertive, snobby, generalizing, and even morally judgemental interpretations of history, purposefully overwhelming the reader with many many necessary considerations. Overall, Butterfield lightly and eloquently treads the motto, "It's complicated."
July 3, 2015
It is easy to see why this little book is such an influential text for historians. It brings to light overlooked assumptions and presents a sharp critique of historians who simplify history and adore it only for what it can give to the present.
Butterfield’s writing is pleasant, though at times his points could be made more succinctly. I began by thinking I would agree completely with him, in the middle thought I disagreed entirely, and by the end decided he is right about many things but is still missing some essential elements. I believe there is a middle way he does not consider here.
In calling for historians to present the complexity of history rather than a simplified chain of consequences, Butterfield hits the mark. He shows great insight in pointing out how the condensation of history leads naturally into generalization, which often tends toward sweeping, tenuous value judgments about history. I also appreciated his point that the past must be measured by its own merits and studied within its own context rather than in light of what it contributed to the present. And he is right to point out that drawing simple, black and white moral judgments about past actions is a risky business.
However, his extreme aversion to drawing any moral lessons or even allowing any teleological purpose to the study of history seem to me not only questionable practice but impossible to accomplish. For him, the study of the past should be “an end in itself” and the historian’s purpose should be to describe the past in vivid detail. That is all. But if that is all, historians and students of history alike are bound to end up banging their heads against that prohibitory glass wall. We are human; we crave meaning. I can accept complex, messy, unsettling meaning, but let me draw some meaning.
Knowing that this book was written fairly early in Butterfield’s career, I wonder if he was zealously overstating his position in reaction. He is right to decry the simplified, airbrushed, progressive Whiggish history. His alternative is unsatisfying, though, and I think the case can be made for a view of history that acknowledges and displays its complexity—not only of events but of people and motives—and yet dares to make moral judgments that can, indeed, filter down to change us in the present.
Butterfield’s writing is pleasant, though at times his points could be made more succinctly. I began by thinking I would agree completely with him, in the middle thought I disagreed entirely, and by the end decided he is right about many things but is still missing some essential elements. I believe there is a middle way he does not consider here.
In calling for historians to present the complexity of history rather than a simplified chain of consequences, Butterfield hits the mark. He shows great insight in pointing out how the condensation of history leads naturally into generalization, which often tends toward sweeping, tenuous value judgments about history. I also appreciated his point that the past must be measured by its own merits and studied within its own context rather than in light of what it contributed to the present. And he is right to point out that drawing simple, black and white moral judgments about past actions is a risky business.
However, his extreme aversion to drawing any moral lessons or even allowing any teleological purpose to the study of history seem to me not only questionable practice but impossible to accomplish. For him, the study of the past should be “an end in itself” and the historian’s purpose should be to describe the past in vivid detail. That is all. But if that is all, historians and students of history alike are bound to end up banging their heads against that prohibitory glass wall. We are human; we crave meaning. I can accept complex, messy, unsettling meaning, but let me draw some meaning.
Knowing that this book was written fairly early in Butterfield’s career, I wonder if he was zealously overstating his position in reaction. He is right to decry the simplified, airbrushed, progressive Whiggish history. His alternative is unsatisfying, though, and I think the case can be made for a view of history that acknowledges and displays its complexity—not only of events but of people and motives—and yet dares to make moral judgments that can, indeed, filter down to change us in the present.
May 30, 2025
Butterfield, Herbert. The Whig Interpretation of History.
The Whig historian seeks a God’s-eye view of history from which he may, often acting as an avenging angel, pass judgments on the world. In some sense this temptation is inevitable. The human mind seeks patterns. The Whig, especially in the extreme form, divides history into the friends and enemies of progress (Butterfield 5).
By contrast, the proper method of interpretation is to enter the mindset of the past. That seems obvious enough. It is what we would like future historians to do with us. Butterfield’s critics, however, labeled it “relativism.” The Whig on the other hand says the past must always be judged by reference to the present. In many ways this shapes current social policy. Not only must the statues of Robert E. Lee come down because of his connection with slavery, but Founders like Jefferson are also guilty (and not surprisingly, since Jefferson had none of Lee’s virtues). This is Whig Interpretation 101.
As Butterfield forcefully notes, “The Whig stands on the summit of the 20th century” and organizes his scheme accordingly (13). But someone might ask, “What is the problem with seeing history as the unfolding story of liberal democracy and civil rights?” Those who do so ignore the multitude of causes and effects, and highlighting only those facts they like, draw inferences. By contrast, the good historian will say, “These causes produced these effects, and the whole, to the degree we can speak of it, is rather complex” (19).
There is a more technical problem with the Whig theory, as Butterfield notes in chapter three. Since the Whig sees everything in terms of how it measures up to the present, he has to judge from “likeness to likeness.” As a result, he has to abstract these moments from the past, particularly when these moments do not always match the present.
How Then Shall We Write History?
Better, so Butterfield argues, to begin our historical studies by assuming “unlikeness at first and let[ting] any likeness that subsequently appear[s] take their proper proportions in the proper context” (38).
The Whig will ask: “To whom are we to be grateful for religious liberty?”
The proper historian will ask: “How did religious liberty arise?”
In other words, the Whig is interested in agency rather than process (50). But does this mean the historian is forbidden to make moral judgments? Of course not. The historian may say that Mary Tudor persecuted and so-and-so lied (125).
Conclusion
Butterfield’s essay is relevant to conservatives for many reasons, although I will highlight only one. How often do we hear “On the right side of history” or “it is the current year?” If Butterfield’s argument is correct, we may dismiss those statements as fallacious.
The Whig historian seeks a God’s-eye view of history from which he may, often acting as an avenging angel, pass judgments on the world. In some sense this temptation is inevitable. The human mind seeks patterns. The Whig, especially in the extreme form, divides history into the friends and enemies of progress (Butterfield 5).
By contrast, the proper method of interpretation is to enter the mindset of the past. That seems obvious enough. It is what we would like future historians to do with us. Butterfield’s critics, however, labeled it “relativism.” The Whig on the other hand says the past must always be judged by reference to the present. In many ways this shapes current social policy. Not only must the statues of Robert E. Lee come down because of his connection with slavery, but Founders like Jefferson are also guilty (and not surprisingly, since Jefferson had none of Lee’s virtues). This is Whig Interpretation 101.
As Butterfield forcefully notes, “The Whig stands on the summit of the 20th century” and organizes his scheme accordingly (13). But someone might ask, “What is the problem with seeing history as the unfolding story of liberal democracy and civil rights?” Those who do so ignore the multitude of causes and effects, and highlighting only those facts they like, draw inferences. By contrast, the good historian will say, “These causes produced these effects, and the whole, to the degree we can speak of it, is rather complex” (19).
There is a more technical problem with the Whig theory, as Butterfield notes in chapter three. Since the Whig sees everything in terms of how it measures up to the present, he has to judge from “likeness to likeness.” As a result, he has to abstract these moments from the past, particularly when these moments do not always match the present.
How Then Shall We Write History?
Better, so Butterfield argues, to begin our historical studies by assuming “unlikeness at first and let[ting] any likeness that subsequently appear[s] take their proper proportions in the proper context” (38).
The Whig will ask: “To whom are we to be grateful for religious liberty?”
The proper historian will ask: “How did religious liberty arise?”
In other words, the Whig is interested in agency rather than process (50). But does this mean the historian is forbidden to make moral judgments? Of course not. The historian may say that Mary Tudor persecuted and so-and-so lied (125).
Conclusion
Butterfield’s essay is relevant to conservatives for many reasons, although I will highlight only one. How often do we hear “On the right side of history” or “it is the current year?” If Butterfield’s argument is correct, we may dismiss those statements as fallacious.
April 1, 2019
In The Whig Interpretation of History, Herbert Butterfield critiques historians who let their perception of the present influence their study of the past. Butterfield defines the “Whig view of history” as “the theory that we study the past for the sake of the present” (p. 24). Butterfield argues that historians distort the truth of history when they use sweeping historical generalizations to justify their moral values or imply that history has any one, all-encompassing purpose or meaning.
According to Butterfield, the Whig historian finds continuity between past and present where there is none. The Whig historian is a Protestant, progressive “19th century gentleman,” (p. 4) who sees history as a story of inevitable progress and “busies himself with dividing the world into the friends and enemies of progress” (p. 5). For example, he interprets the Protestant Reformation as a struggle between the forces of progress and liberty and forces of medieval oppression. Butterfield argues that the actions of both Protestants and Catholics would seem strange and even repulsive to our modern views of church and state. This demonstrates the fallacy of using modern standards to create a historical narrative, and then claim it as the “voice of history” (p. 24). Historians should only be concerned with concrete historical detail, because history is too complex to be understood in terms of an overarching narrative.
The Whig historian desires to find universal principles and general moral lessons in their historical narratives. However, Butterfield argues that true history is “concerned with the processes of life rather than with the meaning or purpose or goal of life…Indeed any history that he [the historian] writes ought to be as capable of varied philosophical interpretation as life itself” (p. 67,72). The historian cannot and should not make judgments about the meaning of history. He should also avoid making moral judgments about history or historical characters. History and morality are separate “spheres” and “ethical questions concern the historian in so far as they are part of the world which he has to describe… Morality... is not absolute to him” (p. 126-127). In Butterfield’s view, a good historian will love the past for the sake of the past and avoid projecting his personal ideas and values onto history.
Butterfield brilliantly identifies and critiques the dangerous tendency to ignore historical context in favor of using history to support contemporary narratives and political goals. The standards and values of the past are often very different than those of today. It is foolish and dishonest to force every historical fact to fit into a preconceived narrative instead of judging history on its own terms. Butterfield’s argument is strongest in its call to see history as a complex web of human interactions, rather than a straight line of causes and effects. Butterfield also skillfully explained the problems inherent in the “abridging” of history because the historian must make judgments about what historical details are important to include.
However, for all his astute insights on the danger of agenda-driven history, Butterfield frequently contradicts himself and espouses an amoral and relativistic view of history. Butterfield attacks the “Whig” tendency to make general judgments of time periods, and then he repeatedly does exactly that in his analysis of the Reformation and the development of religious liberty. His broad statements about the nature of history can seem hypocritical, given his scathing condemnation of the Whigs. At first, Butterfield argues that history lacks ultimate significance and the modern historian can only observe historical details in their context. But in chapter five, he claims that the historian’s work is a “creative act” (p. 91) and the historian uses “imaginative sympathy” to make the past “intelligible to the present” (p. 92). Butterfield’s insistence that the historian never make judgments about morality or the greater purpose of history seems both impossible and dangerous. Just because some standards of the past are different, does not mean that all morality is relative or that the historian should always set aside every moral judgment. Butterfield insists that the historian leave behind all biases and study history solely in terms of concrete facts. But no one, not even Butterfield, is entirely free of bias. To suggest that one could be completely neutral is arrogant and dangerous, because it would lead to the same conflation of the historian’s opinion with the “voice of history” that Butterfield so hates. It is safer for the historian to acknowledge his own biases instead of pretending he has none.
Finally, Butterfield’s insistence on abandoning general narratives limits historical understanding to professional historians. If “abridging” history into simple historical narratives is not permitted, than historical knowledge is only available to the people who have the necessary time and education to know and understand all the complex details and connections that make up history. The need to abridge history into simpler narratives is inescapable, because no person will ever be able to know every historical fact.
The Whig Interpretation of History is a valuable addition to the discipline of historiography and Butterfield eloquently makes the case against agenda-driven history. However, he misses the mark when he insists on complete neutrality and relativity in the study of the past.
According to Butterfield, the Whig historian finds continuity between past and present where there is none. The Whig historian is a Protestant, progressive “19th century gentleman,” (p. 4) who sees history as a story of inevitable progress and “busies himself with dividing the world into the friends and enemies of progress” (p. 5). For example, he interprets the Protestant Reformation as a struggle between the forces of progress and liberty and forces of medieval oppression. Butterfield argues that the actions of both Protestants and Catholics would seem strange and even repulsive to our modern views of church and state. This demonstrates the fallacy of using modern standards to create a historical narrative, and then claim it as the “voice of history” (p. 24). Historians should only be concerned with concrete historical detail, because history is too complex to be understood in terms of an overarching narrative.
The Whig historian desires to find universal principles and general moral lessons in their historical narratives. However, Butterfield argues that true history is “concerned with the processes of life rather than with the meaning or purpose or goal of life…Indeed any history that he [the historian] writes ought to be as capable of varied philosophical interpretation as life itself” (p. 67,72). The historian cannot and should not make judgments about the meaning of history. He should also avoid making moral judgments about history or historical characters. History and morality are separate “spheres” and “ethical questions concern the historian in so far as they are part of the world which he has to describe… Morality... is not absolute to him” (p. 126-127). In Butterfield’s view, a good historian will love the past for the sake of the past and avoid projecting his personal ideas and values onto history.
Butterfield brilliantly identifies and critiques the dangerous tendency to ignore historical context in favor of using history to support contemporary narratives and political goals. The standards and values of the past are often very different than those of today. It is foolish and dishonest to force every historical fact to fit into a preconceived narrative instead of judging history on its own terms. Butterfield’s argument is strongest in its call to see history as a complex web of human interactions, rather than a straight line of causes and effects. Butterfield also skillfully explained the problems inherent in the “abridging” of history because the historian must make judgments about what historical details are important to include.
However, for all his astute insights on the danger of agenda-driven history, Butterfield frequently contradicts himself and espouses an amoral and relativistic view of history. Butterfield attacks the “Whig” tendency to make general judgments of time periods, and then he repeatedly does exactly that in his analysis of the Reformation and the development of religious liberty. His broad statements about the nature of history can seem hypocritical, given his scathing condemnation of the Whigs. At first, Butterfield argues that history lacks ultimate significance and the modern historian can only observe historical details in their context. But in chapter five, he claims that the historian’s work is a “creative act” (p. 91) and the historian uses “imaginative sympathy” to make the past “intelligible to the present” (p. 92). Butterfield’s insistence that the historian never make judgments about morality or the greater purpose of history seems both impossible and dangerous. Just because some standards of the past are different, does not mean that all morality is relative or that the historian should always set aside every moral judgment. Butterfield insists that the historian leave behind all biases and study history solely in terms of concrete facts. But no one, not even Butterfield, is entirely free of bias. To suggest that one could be completely neutral is arrogant and dangerous, because it would lead to the same conflation of the historian’s opinion with the “voice of history” that Butterfield so hates. It is safer for the historian to acknowledge his own biases instead of pretending he has none.
Finally, Butterfield’s insistence on abandoning general narratives limits historical understanding to professional historians. If “abridging” history into simple historical narratives is not permitted, than historical knowledge is only available to the people who have the necessary time and education to know and understand all the complex details and connections that make up history. The need to abridge history into simpler narratives is inescapable, because no person will ever be able to know every historical fact.
The Whig Interpretation of History is a valuable addition to the discipline of historiography and Butterfield eloquently makes the case against agenda-driven history. However, he misses the mark when he insists on complete neutrality and relativity in the study of the past.
January 24, 2025
Butterfield predicted the rise of the airport bookstore/resistance lib historian generations before they arrived. Or, more accurately, he saw in the Whigs a recurring trend of teleology where it did not belong. If one was tempted to ask what is 'the point' of a non-teleological history (aside from the obvious one of knowledge for its own sake) it would be this, you see enough go back and forth and you can see big patterns other might miss going forward. Especially that said patterns never go in one linear direction.
I would consider a more in depth review later.
I would consider a more in depth review later.
July 6, 2018
Butterfield's book is a seminal corrective of the bad habits of two generations of Anglo-American historians in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. He is especially useful for early 21st Cent Americans because he pushed against the cartoonish and reductionistic tendency to render Protestantism as "liberal" or "modern" and Roman Catholicism as "conservative" or "traditional."
January 5, 2010
Could have been half the length.
April 26, 2020
Butterfield's classic deconstruction of the underlying assumptions of Whig ("progress"-oriented) historiography raises all the right objections, in exposing its presentism, absolutism, and confirmation bias (among other characteristics). Unfortunately it fails to apply the same critical scrutiny to Butterfield's own vision of the historian as an artistic, but morally impartial, mere descriptor, interested in the past "for its own sake" - an approach that cannot withstand (and has not withstood) the blistering critique of postmodernism.
September 5, 2024
Idek how to give something like this a rating… like it’s a 100 year old critique and doesn’t reflect the current state of the discipline of history. But also, Butterfield would call me a whig and a bad historian for judging his work against the modern day.
I feel like I need to read the rebuttals to this, like did people really just go along with it?
My main problem is that he addressed a lot of important controversies in the field but was too focused on the semantics to argue them affectively.
I feel like I need to read the rebuttals to this, like did people really just go along with it?
My main problem is that he addressed a lot of important controversies in the field but was too focused on the semantics to argue them affectively.
February 8, 2018
|3.5 Stars|
|For Historiography and the Historical Profession|
|For Historiography and the Historical Profession|
February 27, 2023
You may know what is meant by “whiggish history”: the fallacy of seeing the past as a means to the glorious present and, while seeing this, standing on a mountaintop, throwing stones from a safe remove. But the way that Butterfield holds forth is terrific. In 130 pages that can be read in an afternoon, Butterfield offers counsel to the historian and anyone interested in the past about not falling for ideas like “the arc of history” or judging the past by the standards of the present. His go-to example concerns the ways in which historians of his generation see in Luther and the Reformation the seeds of religious and political liberty, but you could substitute any contemporary ideas that make you roll your eyes–and it works beautifully. (Just the other day I read about the changing of “offensive words” in Roald Dahl’s books and this came to mind as I read Butterfield.) What follows is a sampler I have here for myself, but it will give you the flavor of the whole. Anyone interested in pulling down statues, bowdlerizing textbooks, or wringing hands over the sins of past authors and filmmakers would do well to read this book–but, of course, never will.
“It is part and parcel of the whig interpretation of history that it studies the past with reference to the present; and though there may be a sense in which this is unobjectionable if its implications are carefully considered, and there may be a sense in which it is inescapable, it has often been an obstruction to historical understanding because it has been taken to mean the study of the past with direct and perpetual reference to the present. Through this system of immediate reference to the present day, historical personages can easily and irresistibly be classed into the men who furthered progress and the men who tried to hinder it; so that a handy rule of thumb exists by which the historian can select and reject, and can make his points of emphasis” (11).
“The truth is much more faithfully summarized if we forgo all analogies with the present, and, braving the indignation of the whig historian together with all the sophistries that he is master of, count Protestants and Catholics of the sixteenth century as distant and strange people – as they really were – whose quarrels are as unrelated to ourselves as the factions of Blues and Greens in ancient Constantinople. In other words, it is better to assume unlikeness at first and let any likenesses that subsequently appear take their proper proportions in their proper context; just as in understanding an American it is wrong to assume first that he is like an Englishman and then quarrel with him for his unlikeness, but much better to start with him as a foreigner and so see his very similarities with ourselves in a different light” (38).
“If we turn our present into an absolute to which all other generations are merely relative, we are in any case losing the truer vision of ourselves which history is able to give; we fail to realize those things in which we too are merely relative, and we lose a change of discovering where, in the stream of the centuries, we ourselves, and our ideas and prejudices, stand. In other words we fail to see how we ourselves are, in our turn, not quite autonomous or unconditioned, but a part of the great historical process; not pioneers merely, but also passengers in the movement of things” (63).
“And it must be remembered that moral judgements are by their very nature absolute; in the sense that it is pointless to make them unless one can claim definitely to be right. It may be easy for the moralist of the twentieth century to discuss the ethics of persecution, to say perhaps that religious persecution would be wrong today, perhaps that it was wrong in all the ages. It may be easy to judge the thing, to condemn the act, but how shall the historian pass to the condemnation of people, and apply his standards to the judgment of a special incident at any particular moment? Shall he say that in the sixteenth century all men are absolved, because the age took persecution for granted and counted it a duty; or shall he condemn men for not being sufficiently original in their thoughts to rise above the rules and standards of their own day” (119)?
“Finally, against Acton’s view that history is the arbiter of controversy, the monarch of all she surveys, it may be suggested that she is the very servant of the servants of God, the drudge of all the drudges. The historian ministers to the economist, the politician, the diplomat, the musician; he is equally at the service of the strategist and the ecclesiastic and the administrator. He must learn a great deal from all of these before he can begin even his own work of historical explanation; and he never has the right to dictate to any one of them. He is neither judge nor jury; he is in the position of a man called upon to give evidence; and even so he may abuse his office and he requires the closest cross-examination, for he is one of these "expert witnesses" who persist in offering opinions concealed within their evidence. Perhaps all history-books hold a danger for those who do not know a great deal of history already. In any case, it is never safe to forget the truth which really underlies historical research: the truth that all history perpetually requires to be corrected by more history. When everything has been said, if we have not understanding, the history of all the ages may bring us no benefit; for it may only give us a larger canvas for our smudging, a wider world for our wilfulness. History is all things to all men. She is at the service of good causes and bad. In other words she is a harlot and a hireling, and for this reason she best serves those who suspect her most. Therefore, we must beware even of saying, "History says [...]" or "History proves [...]", as though she herself were the oracle; as though indeed history, once she spoken, had put the matter beyond the range of mere human inquiry. Rather we must say to ourselves: "She will lie to us till the very end of the last cross examination." This is the goddess the whig worships when he claims to make her the arbiter of controversy. She cheats us with optical illusion, sleight-of-hand, equivocal phraseology. If we must confuse counsel by personifying history at all, it is best to treat her as an old reprobate, whose tricks and juggleries are things to be guarded against. In other words the truth of history is no simple matter, all packed and parceled ready for handling in the market-place. And the understanding of the past is not so easy as it is sometimes made to appear” (132).
“It is part and parcel of the whig interpretation of history that it studies the past with reference to the present; and though there may be a sense in which this is unobjectionable if its implications are carefully considered, and there may be a sense in which it is inescapable, it has often been an obstruction to historical understanding because it has been taken to mean the study of the past with direct and perpetual reference to the present. Through this system of immediate reference to the present day, historical personages can easily and irresistibly be classed into the men who furthered progress and the men who tried to hinder it; so that a handy rule of thumb exists by which the historian can select and reject, and can make his points of emphasis” (11).
“The truth is much more faithfully summarized if we forgo all analogies with the present, and, braving the indignation of the whig historian together with all the sophistries that he is master of, count Protestants and Catholics of the sixteenth century as distant and strange people – as they really were – whose quarrels are as unrelated to ourselves as the factions of Blues and Greens in ancient Constantinople. In other words, it is better to assume unlikeness at first and let any likenesses that subsequently appear take their proper proportions in their proper context; just as in understanding an American it is wrong to assume first that he is like an Englishman and then quarrel with him for his unlikeness, but much better to start with him as a foreigner and so see his very similarities with ourselves in a different light” (38).
“If we turn our present into an absolute to which all other generations are merely relative, we are in any case losing the truer vision of ourselves which history is able to give; we fail to realize those things in which we too are merely relative, and we lose a change of discovering where, in the stream of the centuries, we ourselves, and our ideas and prejudices, stand. In other words we fail to see how we ourselves are, in our turn, not quite autonomous or unconditioned, but a part of the great historical process; not pioneers merely, but also passengers in the movement of things” (63).
“And it must be remembered that moral judgements are by their very nature absolute; in the sense that it is pointless to make them unless one can claim definitely to be right. It may be easy for the moralist of the twentieth century to discuss the ethics of persecution, to say perhaps that religious persecution would be wrong today, perhaps that it was wrong in all the ages. It may be easy to judge the thing, to condemn the act, but how shall the historian pass to the condemnation of people, and apply his standards to the judgment of a special incident at any particular moment? Shall he say that in the sixteenth century all men are absolved, because the age took persecution for granted and counted it a duty; or shall he condemn men for not being sufficiently original in their thoughts to rise above the rules and standards of their own day” (119)?
“Finally, against Acton’s view that history is the arbiter of controversy, the monarch of all she surveys, it may be suggested that she is the very servant of the servants of God, the drudge of all the drudges. The historian ministers to the economist, the politician, the diplomat, the musician; he is equally at the service of the strategist and the ecclesiastic and the administrator. He must learn a great deal from all of these before he can begin even his own work of historical explanation; and he never has the right to dictate to any one of them. He is neither judge nor jury; he is in the position of a man called upon to give evidence; and even so he may abuse his office and he requires the closest cross-examination, for he is one of these "expert witnesses" who persist in offering opinions concealed within their evidence. Perhaps all history-books hold a danger for those who do not know a great deal of history already. In any case, it is never safe to forget the truth which really underlies historical research: the truth that all history perpetually requires to be corrected by more history. When everything has been said, if we have not understanding, the history of all the ages may bring us no benefit; for it may only give us a larger canvas for our smudging, a wider world for our wilfulness. History is all things to all men. She is at the service of good causes and bad. In other words she is a harlot and a hireling, and for this reason she best serves those who suspect her most. Therefore, we must beware even of saying, "History says [...]" or "History proves [...]", as though she herself were the oracle; as though indeed history, once she spoken, had put the matter beyond the range of mere human inquiry. Rather we must say to ourselves: "She will lie to us till the very end of the last cross examination." This is the goddess the whig worships when he claims to make her the arbiter of controversy. She cheats us with optical illusion, sleight-of-hand, equivocal phraseology. If we must confuse counsel by personifying history at all, it is best to treat her as an old reprobate, whose tricks and juggleries are things to be guarded against. In other words the truth of history is no simple matter, all packed and parceled ready for handling in the market-place. And the understanding of the past is not so easy as it is sometimes made to appear” (132).
January 11, 2017
In The Whig Interpretation of History, Herbert Butterfield presages the hyper-political and hyper-moralizing nature of modern history and historiography, in which the past is measured by the present and history is shown as a linear evolution towards progress. Butterfield examines how this view of history not only does a great disservice to the advancement of human knowledge but serves only to bolster the self-important delusions of the modern age.
Working from an extended examination of the Reformation, Butterfield breaks down how a Whig (progressive) interpretation of history inherently dilutes historical inquiry into a simple chain of cause and effect flavored with a heady dose of moral indignation. The Whig historian uses history as a cudgel to advance his own interests while beating down his opponents; the Whig seeks truth in simplicity and progress.
In its place, Butterfield seeks to establish a view of history which focuses upon how conflict and compromise produced the mediating forces which caused history to develop and move forward, not towards some shining point of enlightenment, but instead to move forward from the trials of the past to build a viable future; Butterfield seeks truth in complexity and survival.
I would recommend this book to anyone interested in the role of a historian in society and the role of bias in historiography, and what precisely is the goal of history. To some extent, I am frankly tempted to label it "required reading" for any student of history.
Working from an extended examination of the Reformation, Butterfield breaks down how a Whig (progressive) interpretation of history inherently dilutes historical inquiry into a simple chain of cause and effect flavored with a heady dose of moral indignation. The Whig historian uses history as a cudgel to advance his own interests while beating down his opponents; the Whig seeks truth in simplicity and progress.
In its place, Butterfield seeks to establish a view of history which focuses upon how conflict and compromise produced the mediating forces which caused history to develop and move forward, not towards some shining point of enlightenment, but instead to move forward from the trials of the past to build a viable future; Butterfield seeks truth in complexity and survival.
I would recommend this book to anyone interested in the role of a historian in society and the role of bias in historiography, and what precisely is the goal of history. To some extent, I am frankly tempted to label it "required reading" for any student of history.
August 29, 2021
Will review. Politically relevant. Good work, with the problem that the Right took it to heart and the entire problem is no longer visible from within a hegemonic discourse, i.e., the Cathedral doesn't look like the Cathedral from the inside. Also relativistic. Whig history is exemplified both in world history and non-narratival schools of modern annalists (as a reaction) and in politicized history like the 1619 project (as an apotheosis). However, Butterfield, conceiving of an apolitical and amoral history, is either too high above me or too far below me to make sense. The past can be described either as a litany of primary sources (annalism), or as irreducibly political and moral (historiography).
In summation, I'm opposed to whig history because it's used by whigs, that is, for what they draw from history, which is to say its use in bolstering the wrong side of ostensible progress. I'm not at all opposed to the methodology, being a believer in both providence and logical determinism, if only the right persuasions used it effectively.
Probably could link this to not just neoreactionary analyses but critical ones about totalizing metanarratival discourses, in that whig history doesn't get its content or results from the history, but from the pre-existing metapolitical and religious gestalt of the society of the historian practicing it.
We could use some good whig history today.
In summation, I'm opposed to whig history because it's used by whigs, that is, for what they draw from history, which is to say its use in bolstering the wrong side of ostensible progress. I'm not at all opposed to the methodology, being a believer in both providence and logical determinism, if only the right persuasions used it effectively.
Probably could link this to not just neoreactionary analyses but critical ones about totalizing metanarratival discourses, in that whig history doesn't get its content or results from the history, but from the pre-existing metapolitical and religious gestalt of the society of the historian practicing it.
We could use some good whig history today.
May 7, 2024
The concept of the "Whig interpretation of history" has entered the common lexicon. Today, almost everybody knows what it means. It refers to the tendency of some liberal minded historians, soaked in the waters of the present, to interpret historical texts, people, and events in a way that takes the contemporary, liberal view of history for granted. It usually involves a misreading of the motivations of the past as well as an overzealous moralized attitude towards history. It sees history as the upward march of a progressive struggle where the heroes of liberty and progress fight against the forces of intolerance and reaction in order to bring the values of the Enlightenment - including tolerance, science, democracy, and liberty - to benighted masses and elites.
Butterfield deserves all the credit for raising awareness about this real issue. He has provided sharp weaponry to the critics of simplistic moralized narratives of the past. Indeed, his argument can be generalized to ANY dominant mode of history that takes the present condition with its values and interests as the starting point, not just the Whig view. Among contemporaries, the purveyors of the Cambridge School have contributed greatly to our understanding of historical texts in the context in which they were written, and it seems unlikely that John Pocock and Quentin Skinner would have existed without the influence of Butterfield, even if their method is slightly different.
Unfortunately, while Butterfield's booklet/lecture contains one great idea, it contains ONLY that one idea. This booklet is essentially a (rather clever) one-trick pony. Beyond the valuable insight that history should be studied from the point of view of the past rather than the present (his argument against "presentism"), this booklet is an an intellectual desert with barely an oasis in it. Most damningly, Butterfield's sketch for a positive alternative to the Whig interpretation, according to which historians should take on the descriptive role of dispassionate observers of the past in all its manifold diversity, starts out quite strong, but ends up being poorly argued for. Indeed, Mr. Butterfield provides us little reason to think that taking on the role of passive observers and chronicles of the minute details of the past is a particularly worthwhile task. Indeed, it seems that standing by and letting the past speak for itself is rather difficult for most historians. This, of course, is not an argument against trying to raise the standards of objectivity. More worryingly, I am not sure that attempting to expunge normativity from history is conceptually coherent. It seems almost impossible to avoid using conceptual terms that carry some normative baggage or partiality of interpretation when describing past events. This makes the value-free mode of analysis a bad candidate for the best research method for doing history. Despite my sympathies for a style of history that takes history seriously as a self-standing object of study, I was left frustrated by Butterfield's overcorrection in the positivistic direction of supposedly purpose-free and value-free chronicling of history as "one damned thing after another." It seems to me that history requires the combination of descriptive neutrality and narrative storytelling. The point is not to illuminate the past from a single, privileged point of view, but it nonetheless seems to me that to illuminate the past AT ALL requires entertaining, even if not wholly identifying with, SOME quasi-normative point of view (or a combination, a mélange, of views). At minimum, what topics historians choose to focus on, how historical questions are framed, what research topics get funding, what kind of publications get noticed, etc., are motivated by present concerns. It seems to me that diverse points of view, multiple interpretative angles, even complex moral judgments, can and should enter into history. The real trick is not to extricate them, let alone to pretend that we can completely get rid of them (and somehow to deaden our own moral and normative compass), but to be open-minded and explore as many different points of view as possible, and to be open about our own biases. In addition to Whig histories of the Reformation (the particular target of Butterfield's rightful scorn), we can have conservative, communist, and reactionary ones, as well as histories written by hopeless bores, hopeless Romantics, hopeless moralizers, and hopeless amoralists. In this way, we can avoid the Whig fallacy of liberal presentism without embracing the hopeless alternative of doing history without the human author and the interpretative community.
On the positive side, Butterfield's prose is pretty nice. The lecture's main point, I repeat, was worth making. We can be eternally thankful that Butterfield forced historians to take their job more seriously as the chroniclers of a diverse, foreign, and unknown past that speaks its own language on its own terms. However, the positive argument for the alternative kind of historiography to replace the Whig kind is left surprisingly shallow, weak, and - at least for me - unconvincing. So, while I would give the central thesis a solid 4/5, the booklet itself only gets a mere 3/5 from me. Of course, contextualizing the lecture for when and why it was written allows us to better appreciate its historical value. But this gives us little reason to go back and read it for the present. So, ironically enough, Butterfield can have the last laugh, since this reader has just committed the sin of "presentism!" But perhaps the present, with or without Whigs, calls the final shots.
Butterfield deserves all the credit for raising awareness about this real issue. He has provided sharp weaponry to the critics of simplistic moralized narratives of the past. Indeed, his argument can be generalized to ANY dominant mode of history that takes the present condition with its values and interests as the starting point, not just the Whig view. Among contemporaries, the purveyors of the Cambridge School have contributed greatly to our understanding of historical texts in the context in which they were written, and it seems unlikely that John Pocock and Quentin Skinner would have existed without the influence of Butterfield, even if their method is slightly different.
Unfortunately, while Butterfield's booklet/lecture contains one great idea, it contains ONLY that one idea. This booklet is essentially a (rather clever) one-trick pony. Beyond the valuable insight that history should be studied from the point of view of the past rather than the present (his argument against "presentism"), this booklet is an an intellectual desert with barely an oasis in it. Most damningly, Butterfield's sketch for a positive alternative to the Whig interpretation, according to which historians should take on the descriptive role of dispassionate observers of the past in all its manifold diversity, starts out quite strong, but ends up being poorly argued for. Indeed, Mr. Butterfield provides us little reason to think that taking on the role of passive observers and chronicles of the minute details of the past is a particularly worthwhile task. Indeed, it seems that standing by and letting the past speak for itself is rather difficult for most historians. This, of course, is not an argument against trying to raise the standards of objectivity. More worryingly, I am not sure that attempting to expunge normativity from history is conceptually coherent. It seems almost impossible to avoid using conceptual terms that carry some normative baggage or partiality of interpretation when describing past events. This makes the value-free mode of analysis a bad candidate for the best research method for doing history. Despite my sympathies for a style of history that takes history seriously as a self-standing object of study, I was left frustrated by Butterfield's overcorrection in the positivistic direction of supposedly purpose-free and value-free chronicling of history as "one damned thing after another." It seems to me that history requires the combination of descriptive neutrality and narrative storytelling. The point is not to illuminate the past from a single, privileged point of view, but it nonetheless seems to me that to illuminate the past AT ALL requires entertaining, even if not wholly identifying with, SOME quasi-normative point of view (or a combination, a mélange, of views). At minimum, what topics historians choose to focus on, how historical questions are framed, what research topics get funding, what kind of publications get noticed, etc., are motivated by present concerns. It seems to me that diverse points of view, multiple interpretative angles, even complex moral judgments, can and should enter into history. The real trick is not to extricate them, let alone to pretend that we can completely get rid of them (and somehow to deaden our own moral and normative compass), but to be open-minded and explore as many different points of view as possible, and to be open about our own biases. In addition to Whig histories of the Reformation (the particular target of Butterfield's rightful scorn), we can have conservative, communist, and reactionary ones, as well as histories written by hopeless bores, hopeless Romantics, hopeless moralizers, and hopeless amoralists. In this way, we can avoid the Whig fallacy of liberal presentism without embracing the hopeless alternative of doing history without the human author and the interpretative community.
On the positive side, Butterfield's prose is pretty nice. The lecture's main point, I repeat, was worth making. We can be eternally thankful that Butterfield forced historians to take their job more seriously as the chroniclers of a diverse, foreign, and unknown past that speaks its own language on its own terms. However, the positive argument for the alternative kind of historiography to replace the Whig kind is left surprisingly shallow, weak, and - at least for me - unconvincing. So, while I would give the central thesis a solid 4/5, the booklet itself only gets a mere 3/5 from me. Of course, contextualizing the lecture for when and why it was written allows us to better appreciate its historical value. But this gives us little reason to go back and read it for the present. So, ironically enough, Butterfield can have the last laugh, since this reader has just committed the sin of "presentism!" But perhaps the present, with or without Whigs, calls the final shots.
October 14, 2012
A classic work in historiography. Butterfield decries the tendency of historians to interpret history as progressively cumulative in the present; or equally, to selectively use history as an ideological justification of "my views"; or finally, to anachronistically read their ideologies into the past so that its heroes were all fighting to produce the ideas they now possess. If you've ever wanted to throttle someone for claiming "all of history shows..." or if you've heard yet another sermon illustration that sounds perfectly contrived to make a point, you get the gist of this book.
August 29, 2016
This book was read for a class, and I was intrigued by it from almost the first page. I think it has some truly valuable insight that I had never considered before, and while it certainly represents the opposite extreme from the technique/trend it lambastes, the grain of salt one must take it with is not, I believe, very big. It was honestly eye opening despite being almost a century old, and I highly recommend it to anyone interested in the study of history - it is an incredibly short read, and though the prose is sometimes complicated, it is for the most part very engaging.
December 22, 2021
I've found Historians lately telling me History's arc ends with Trump and the Trumpians. They'd best read Butterfield's essay here; and read it more than once. We'd get more informative history and relief from the tedium of what Historians think should be, and opinions sadly clogging otherwise interesting narratives.
February 16, 2013
A much needed--still, after all these years--call for humility and restraint for the historian.
March 7, 2017
What a beautiful little book!! Poetic and illuminating.
September 12, 2018
There are few books that I have read that have made huge impact on me, but I think Dr. Herbert Butterfield’s, “The Whig Interpretation of History” will be one of them.
Don’t let the name fool you: the “Whig Interpretation” could be called the “progressive view” as well, which is probably more familiar to us today. Written in the 1920’s, Dr. Butterfield saw an alarming trend in histories being written at that time. Historians have an incredible task set forth for them, one that requires them to look at history and make subjective statements about those events. This may seem counterintuitive; but it isn’t really. It isn’t possible to look at a historical event and be completely objective. But we can radically depart from truthful history, a history that is a reliable, when we interpret it in relation to the present. When we make statements like being on the “right side” of history or that those who fought on the side of the Confederacy in the Civil War were bad people, we make moral statements about history that do not include its many complexities. One issue of constant consternation is the basis of our own country: was it founded on the Christian faith or were the forefathers of America Deists and therefore it wasn’t? It is an oversimplification to say that America was built on the framework of either system. This is in part because when you interpret the past based on our understanding of events, you impose a 21st century perspective onto the 18th century; that’s 200 years of innovation and change that you throw out.
Butterfield’s argument follows this train of thought. History is complex and we have a tendency to want to make moral judgements on those in history. Take another example in the Civil Rights Movement. While we can look back and say that the Civil Rights Movement was a good thing, we can easily run into trouble from a historical perspective when we throw the baby out with the bathwater in making overarching moral judgements on those who did not support the movement. Were they all bad people? Of course not; there were some very good people who just had wrong ideas. But this isn’t the point of history. History assembles facts from primary sources and then tells a narrative to help laypeople understand how they fit together. It is outside of the historical realm to impose what you believe is right or wrong into history.
Another example that I thought was really interesting (and one that I’ve heard before) is that the so-called “Dark Ages” were devoid of any scientific progress or intellectual thought. This is surely an absurd statement, but we point to it (wrongly) when we want to make the point that religion corrupts people into mindless drones who can’t think for themselves. But this disregards the fact that, again, history is complex; it is not as simple as we might like it to be. You also can’t make a statement such as this without looking at all the evidence. But we want to do this, because it proves our own point politically, religiously, or economically in our current world. We have imposed our own judgements and beliefs onto a society that existed hundreds of years ago. This is akin to blatant dishonesty. The progressive historian makes no attempt to get inside the minds of what a person thought and how he lived in order to understand the facts of history. Rather, he jumps to weak conclusions to prove some belief that is irrelevant to what actually happened.
This book has really opened my own eyes to things that I see everyday in social media. I am beginning to see the fallacies that are perpetuated concerning the “right side of history” or historical generalizations that do not take into account histories complex nature.
Take a very recent example in Michelle Obama. The New York Times ran a story entitled, “Yes, Slaves Did Help Build the White House.” This article sprang from a comment Mrs. Obama made that the house she lives in was built by slaves. The writer of the article says, “Mrs. Obama was reaching for a similar point on Monday, emphasizing as President Obama often does that the strengths of the United States spring in part from its ugly, painful past.” But you see the fallacy? It’s “ugly” and “painful” past? This is imposing a 21st century view of equality onto a people group several generations back. This is not to excuse their actions; indeed, we can say today that that was an evil thing. However, from a historical point of view, history (again) is simply a recollection of facts put into a story. The over-simplification of America’s “ugly” and “painful” past does a disservice to millions of people.
Don’t let the name fool you: the “Whig Interpretation” could be called the “progressive view” as well, which is probably more familiar to us today. Written in the 1920’s, Dr. Butterfield saw an alarming trend in histories being written at that time. Historians have an incredible task set forth for them, one that requires them to look at history and make subjective statements about those events. This may seem counterintuitive; but it isn’t really. It isn’t possible to look at a historical event and be completely objective. But we can radically depart from truthful history, a history that is a reliable, when we interpret it in relation to the present. When we make statements like being on the “right side” of history or that those who fought on the side of the Confederacy in the Civil War were bad people, we make moral statements about history that do not include its many complexities. One issue of constant consternation is the basis of our own country: was it founded on the Christian faith or were the forefathers of America Deists and therefore it wasn’t? It is an oversimplification to say that America was built on the framework of either system. This is in part because when you interpret the past based on our understanding of events, you impose a 21st century perspective onto the 18th century; that’s 200 years of innovation and change that you throw out.
Butterfield’s argument follows this train of thought. History is complex and we have a tendency to want to make moral judgements on those in history. Take another example in the Civil Rights Movement. While we can look back and say that the Civil Rights Movement was a good thing, we can easily run into trouble from a historical perspective when we throw the baby out with the bathwater in making overarching moral judgements on those who did not support the movement. Were they all bad people? Of course not; there were some very good people who just had wrong ideas. But this isn’t the point of history. History assembles facts from primary sources and then tells a narrative to help laypeople understand how they fit together. It is outside of the historical realm to impose what you believe is right or wrong into history.
Another example that I thought was really interesting (and one that I’ve heard before) is that the so-called “Dark Ages” were devoid of any scientific progress or intellectual thought. This is surely an absurd statement, but we point to it (wrongly) when we want to make the point that religion corrupts people into mindless drones who can’t think for themselves. But this disregards the fact that, again, history is complex; it is not as simple as we might like it to be. You also can’t make a statement such as this without looking at all the evidence. But we want to do this, because it proves our own point politically, religiously, or economically in our current world. We have imposed our own judgements and beliefs onto a society that existed hundreds of years ago. This is akin to blatant dishonesty. The progressive historian makes no attempt to get inside the minds of what a person thought and how he lived in order to understand the facts of history. Rather, he jumps to weak conclusions to prove some belief that is irrelevant to what actually happened.
This book has really opened my own eyes to things that I see everyday in social media. I am beginning to see the fallacies that are perpetuated concerning the “right side of history” or historical generalizations that do not take into account histories complex nature.
Take a very recent example in Michelle Obama. The New York Times ran a story entitled, “Yes, Slaves Did Help Build the White House.” This article sprang from a comment Mrs. Obama made that the house she lives in was built by slaves. The writer of the article says, “Mrs. Obama was reaching for a similar point on Monday, emphasizing as President Obama often does that the strengths of the United States spring in part from its ugly, painful past.” But you see the fallacy? It’s “ugly” and “painful” past? This is imposing a 21st century view of equality onto a people group several generations back. This is not to excuse their actions; indeed, we can say today that that was an evil thing. However, from a historical point of view, history (again) is simply a recollection of facts put into a story. The over-simplification of America’s “ugly” and “painful” past does a disservice to millions of people.
May 29, 2023
Butterfield provides an important corrective to the idea that history is largely a progressive narrative in which enlightenment and liberty increasingly prevail. The complexities of history make it difficult or impossible to make refined assertions about the significance of individual events, no matter how many details we have on hand. After all, events don’t come to pass discretely, but rather as part of an historical continuum. To understand them in totality requires us to understand the other events that impinge upon them, and others upon those, and so on and so forth. So, we’re called to acknowledge our finitude as we grapple with history. This is an important insight that contemporary activist historians would do well to admit. Butterfield has some sobering words for those historians who treat their craft as an instrument to either justify or attack some current state of affairs:
“The study of the past with one eye, so to speak, upon the present is the source of all sins and sophistries in history, starting with the simplest of them, the anachronism. It is the fallacy into which we slip when we are giving the judgments that seem the most assuredly self-evident. And it is the essence of what we mean by the word ‘unhistorical.’… It explains a hundred whig and Protestant versions of history that have been revised by the work of specialists. And though it might be said that in any event all errors are corrected by more detailed study, it must be remembered that the thesis itself is one that has the effect of stopping enquiry; as against the view that we study the past for the sake of the past, it is itself an argument for the limitation of our aims and our researches; it is the theory that history is very useful provided we take it in moderation; and it can be turned into an apology for anything that does not tally with historical research. A more intensive study can only be pursued, as has been seen, in proportion as we abandon this thesis.”
Another important insight:
“The whig historian thinks that the course of history, the passage of centuries can give judgment on a man or an age or a movement. In reality there is only one thing that history can say on this matter, and this itself is so commonplace that it can almost be reduced to a piece of tautology. It is, that provided disaster is not utterly irretrievable—provided a generation is not destroyed or a state wiped entirely from the map—there is no sin or error or calamity can take place but succeeding generations will make the best of it; and though it be a Black Death or a Fire of London that comes as a scourge and a visitation, men will still make virtue of necessity and use the very downfall of the old world as the opportunity for making a new, till the whig historian looking back upon the catastrophe can see only the acquired advantages and the happy readjustments. So in the result the whig historian will be tempted to forget the sufferings of a generation, and will find it easy to assert that the original tragedy was no tragedy at all. We of the present-day can be thankful for the religious quarrels of the 16th century, as we are thankful for the Black Death and the Fire of London—because the very disasters drove men to what was tantamount to a creative act; and we, coming in the after-flow of the centuries, can see only the good that was produced. But we are deceived by the optical illusion if we deny that when Luther rebelled against the Catholic Church, and the Popes so deliberately hounded him into rebellion, they did not between them produce a tragedy which meant the sacrifice of more than one generation.”
Is this a call to moral relativism or historical skepticism? I do believe Butterfield comes uncomfortably close to these incoherent positions at times (hence four stars instead of five). But, his providential view of history does show up in the book. I wish he had spent more time developing his own positive vision.
Overall, this book is an important call to scholarly sobriety.
“The study of the past with one eye, so to speak, upon the present is the source of all sins and sophistries in history, starting with the simplest of them, the anachronism. It is the fallacy into which we slip when we are giving the judgments that seem the most assuredly self-evident. And it is the essence of what we mean by the word ‘unhistorical.’… It explains a hundred whig and Protestant versions of history that have been revised by the work of specialists. And though it might be said that in any event all errors are corrected by more detailed study, it must be remembered that the thesis itself is one that has the effect of stopping enquiry; as against the view that we study the past for the sake of the past, it is itself an argument for the limitation of our aims and our researches; it is the theory that history is very useful provided we take it in moderation; and it can be turned into an apology for anything that does not tally with historical research. A more intensive study can only be pursued, as has been seen, in proportion as we abandon this thesis.”
Another important insight:
“The whig historian thinks that the course of history, the passage of centuries can give judgment on a man or an age or a movement. In reality there is only one thing that history can say on this matter, and this itself is so commonplace that it can almost be reduced to a piece of tautology. It is, that provided disaster is not utterly irretrievable—provided a generation is not destroyed or a state wiped entirely from the map—there is no sin or error or calamity can take place but succeeding generations will make the best of it; and though it be a Black Death or a Fire of London that comes as a scourge and a visitation, men will still make virtue of necessity and use the very downfall of the old world as the opportunity for making a new, till the whig historian looking back upon the catastrophe can see only the acquired advantages and the happy readjustments. So in the result the whig historian will be tempted to forget the sufferings of a generation, and will find it easy to assert that the original tragedy was no tragedy at all. We of the present-day can be thankful for the religious quarrels of the 16th century, as we are thankful for the Black Death and the Fire of London—because the very disasters drove men to what was tantamount to a creative act; and we, coming in the after-flow of the centuries, can see only the good that was produced. But we are deceived by the optical illusion if we deny that when Luther rebelled against the Catholic Church, and the Popes so deliberately hounded him into rebellion, they did not between them produce a tragedy which meant the sacrifice of more than one generation.”
Is this a call to moral relativism or historical skepticism? I do believe Butterfield comes uncomfortably close to these incoherent positions at times (hence four stars instead of five). But, his providential view of history does show up in the book. I wish he had spent more time developing his own positive vision.
Overall, this book is an important call to scholarly sobriety.
February 8, 2020
Herbert Butterfield’s The Whig Interpretation of History seeks to dissolve historical abridgments popularized by whig history, a term he coins as the historiographical fallacy of studying the past for the present’s sake, often in favor of Protestant and Whig narratives. Butterfield’s thesis is that the juxtaposition of the past and present, especially as it concerns moral judgments of historical trends, oversimplifies the complexity of factors comprising events (p. 12). Butterfield identifies and condemns the historian’s temptation to abstract and contemplate things divorced from their context and abridge general histories that present the modern world as the emerging victor succeeding past generations that fought for the same modernity; on the contrary, he argues that the modern era is the result of a clash of wills ending in a result “which often neither party wanted or even dreamed of” and “would equally have hated,” (19).
Butterfield fills dozens of pages with renunciations of whig historians; however, he makes few direct references to historians except for Lord Acton, to whom he dedicates approximately a quarter of his essay. His correction is preventive rather than prescriptive; Butterfield’s intent throughout his essay is to make the reader—often a graduate student of history—aware of modern presumptions that can easily be imposed upon historical interpretations when the historian considers his or herself more than an observer and artistic conveyor of the strange bridges which interconnect one state of things to another (p. 28). Such is his accusation against whig historians and popular abridgements, which replace the breakdown of complex relative conditions and causal relationships that comprise the subject at hand with a pre-imagined rubric that neatly divides historical clashes of wills into episodes of good and evil, with the modern era emerging as the victorious successor to movements viewed as essentially allied on the platform of religious liberty such as the Reformation, French Revolution, and American Civil War. It is too easy to abstract principles dealt with in historical events and compare them to modern systems, evident in Butterfield’s example of whiggish circular reasoning culminating the statement: “Capitalism is the social counterpart of Calvinist Theology,” a hypothesis which merely furthers the illusory division of history into eras marked by events, of which the Reformation is one (p. 30).
Butterfield’s essay does only not aim its sights at a single whig historian or group, but also seeks to eliminate the trend of whig history altogether by making the student aware of countless assumptions held by the modern observer of history. As such, he refers mostly to popularly held historical fallacies of his age rather than peer-reviewed theories put forth by his colleagues. Some might criticize Butterfield for lacking examples of whig historians—of whom he names very few—however, because his essay is chiefly concerned with the popular tendency to overdramatize historical events in favor of Protestants and Whigs and excuses itself from philosophical analysis, the rhetoric provided by Butterfield accomplishes its intended purpose: to prevent even the junior armchair historian from imagining himself a judge, jury, or beacon of virtue emboldened to impose posthumous principles onto the alien world of the past.
Butterfield fills dozens of pages with renunciations of whig historians; however, he makes few direct references to historians except for Lord Acton, to whom he dedicates approximately a quarter of his essay. His correction is preventive rather than prescriptive; Butterfield’s intent throughout his essay is to make the reader—often a graduate student of history—aware of modern presumptions that can easily be imposed upon historical interpretations when the historian considers his or herself more than an observer and artistic conveyor of the strange bridges which interconnect one state of things to another (p. 28). Such is his accusation against whig historians and popular abridgements, which replace the breakdown of complex relative conditions and causal relationships that comprise the subject at hand with a pre-imagined rubric that neatly divides historical clashes of wills into episodes of good and evil, with the modern era emerging as the victorious successor to movements viewed as essentially allied on the platform of religious liberty such as the Reformation, French Revolution, and American Civil War. It is too easy to abstract principles dealt with in historical events and compare them to modern systems, evident in Butterfield’s example of whiggish circular reasoning culminating the statement: “Capitalism is the social counterpart of Calvinist Theology,” a hypothesis which merely furthers the illusory division of history into eras marked by events, of which the Reformation is one (p. 30).
Butterfield’s essay does only not aim its sights at a single whig historian or group, but also seeks to eliminate the trend of whig history altogether by making the student aware of countless assumptions held by the modern observer of history. As such, he refers mostly to popularly held historical fallacies of his age rather than peer-reviewed theories put forth by his colleagues. Some might criticize Butterfield for lacking examples of whig historians—of whom he names very few—however, because his essay is chiefly concerned with the popular tendency to overdramatize historical events in favor of Protestants and Whigs and excuses itself from philosophical analysis, the rhetoric provided by Butterfield accomplishes its intended purpose: to prevent even the junior armchair historian from imagining himself a judge, jury, or beacon of virtue emboldened to impose posthumous principles onto the alien world of the past.
August 19, 2020
As "whig" in the sense of this book is equivalent to "liberal", its message feels almost dangerous today. I think historians, in general, are on board with its message; but is anyone else? We seem to be further from it than ever.
Butterfield's main point is that history is essentially irreducible. We frequently attempt to simplify and rationalize it by teleology -- by starting from the present and working backward to imagine everything progressing towards us. Like Adam Smith pondering the invention of money, we start with the thing we know about today and try to work out the steps that led to it. "The result of historical study is precisely the demonstration of the fallacy of our arm-chair logic -- the proof of the poverty of this kind of speculation when compared to the surprise of what actually did take place."
Although this kind of argument goes entirely against the rationalist, the geek, the person who feels the world steadily improves no matter how long the arc of history, it is when it comes to moral judgments that the book seems most controversial to me. Historians, he says, like anyone else, may make moral judgments, but History does not. No one can ever say that History has vindicated anyone, or condemned anyone. Historians, as historians, must give up, he says, "what must be regarded as the luxury and pleasing sensuousness of moral indignation." (Don't tell Twitter.) It is not that he thinks we can 'excuse' the people of the past because they were 'of their time', because that's a moral judgment too. It's that we have to try to understand them, and why they did what they did, without taking the shortcut of simply saying 'well they were bad.' He is arguing against such moralists as Lord Acton, who he quotes: "Beware of too much explaining, lest we end by too much excusing." But to explain is the entire purpose of history.
Butterfield's main point is that history is essentially irreducible. We frequently attempt to simplify and rationalize it by teleology -- by starting from the present and working backward to imagine everything progressing towards us. Like Adam Smith pondering the invention of money, we start with the thing we know about today and try to work out the steps that led to it. "The result of historical study is precisely the demonstration of the fallacy of our arm-chair logic -- the proof of the poverty of this kind of speculation when compared to the surprise of what actually did take place."
Although this kind of argument goes entirely against the rationalist, the geek, the person who feels the world steadily improves no matter how long the arc of history, it is when it comes to moral judgments that the book seems most controversial to me. Historians, he says, like anyone else, may make moral judgments, but History does not. No one can ever say that History has vindicated anyone, or condemned anyone. Historians, as historians, must give up, he says, "what must be regarded as the luxury and pleasing sensuousness of moral indignation." (Don't tell Twitter.) It is not that he thinks we can 'excuse' the people of the past because they were 'of their time', because that's a moral judgment too. It's that we have to try to understand them, and why they did what they did, without taking the shortcut of simply saying 'well they were bad.' He is arguing against such moralists as Lord Acton, who he quotes: "Beware of too much explaining, lest we end by too much excusing." But to explain is the entire purpose of history.
April 13, 2025
For a big chunk of his argument being 'black and white dichotomies are bad,' he sure does dichotomized Protestant v Catholic or Whig v everything else pretty hard. He make exactly one caveat at the beginning to say 'not all Whigs/Protestants make bad history and these issues also show up in Catholic/Tory spheres,' but still proceeds to write the rest of this essay by using "Protestant," "Whig," and "unemphatic and linear history" synonymously. As much as I do agree with the vast majority of what he's saying, his lack of nuance here seriously undermines his argument.
For all the history majors being made to read this and who are skimming goodreads instead of actually reading it, you might be more familiar with what he's describing being called "teleological history." They're not the exact same, and I see "teleology" used almost exclusively in Holocaust discourse, but the base roots of "this event is inevitable and all of history points to it" is quite similar. TD;DR, it's bad history, read your sources in their own context and have empathy for members of the past, they were people in their own right, not simply predecessors to our day and age.
For all the history majors being made to read this and who are skimming goodreads instead of actually reading it, you might be more familiar with what he's describing being called "teleological history." They're not the exact same, and I see "teleology" used almost exclusively in Holocaust discourse, but the base roots of "this event is inevitable and all of history points to it" is quite similar. TD;DR, it's bad history, read your sources in their own context and have empathy for members of the past, they were people in their own right, not simply predecessors to our day and age.
May 16, 2019
A profound book, and one joined to the virtue of being well written. To me, this book does for history what Thomas Kuhn’s “The Structure of Scientific Revolutions“ did for science. An honest analysis of each discipline should indicate that there is no such thing as either History or Science (note the capitalization), when either are taken to speak as authoritative entities with a right to deliver normative judgments. While whig history is itself mostly a thing of the past, the fallacy of the whig historian springs eternal in the human heart…
As a Christian, I read Butterfield’s critique of whig history as a pointer to the absolute human need for authoritative revelation from God to discern the meaning of any human experience. Apart from Scripture, we would be incapable of interpreting life or making moral judgments.
As a Christian, I read Butterfield’s critique of whig history as a pointer to the absolute human need for authoritative revelation from God to discern the meaning of any human experience. Apart from Scripture, we would be incapable of interpreting life or making moral judgments.
September 7, 2020
I gave this one 3 stars mostly because I just did not enjoy reading it. It was written in 1931, so I had to stay pretty engaged to understand what he was saying. I think Butterfield makes a strong argument against the Whig interpretation of history, and I mostly agree with his argument; however, some of his points are undermined by his seemingly personal dislike of Whigs and Protestants. I do not even think it is fair to conflate Whigs and Protestants because Catholics are just as likely to commit the Whig fallacies as Protestants. Despite his biases, I think the thesis of the book is sound. I especially like his arguments against making moral judgements about history and studying history as a lead up to the present. While this is a worthwhile read for historians-in-training such as myself, I hope I never have to read it again.
August 18, 2024
“What is discussed is the tendency in many historians… to praise revolutions provided they have been successful, to emphasize certain principles in the past and to produce a story which is the ratification if not the glorification of the present.”
“The primary assumption of all attempts to understand people of the past must be the belief that we can in some degree enter into minds that are unlike our own.”
“History is essentially the study of transition, and to the historian the only absolute is change.”
“The primary assumption of all attempts to understand people of the past must be the belief that we can in some degree enter into minds that are unlike our own.”
“History is essentially the study of transition, and to the historian the only absolute is change.”
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