History is something we learn in school from a very early age, and we take it as a given that it is something we must learn. But why? Why do we need to record history? Why do we need to read through large textbooks discussing events that took place hundreds of years ago? History is a fascinating aspect of our humanity that stems from a tradition of storytelling. Before we had the benefit of written documents at the dawn of civilization, history was passed down through stories or artwork that conveyed the message or moral of a story. And, indeed, historical events are tales of morals, albeit very complex tales. When we learn about the causes of WWII, for example, we learn about it out of a desire to counteract the causes that inevitably led to the war. In fact, history played a crucial role prior to WWII in the study of WWI by the Nye Commission, which studied the influence of American business (particularly weapons manufacturing companies and other industries that made loans to the Triple Entente prior to WWI) on the eventual U.S. decision to join the war in 1917. This did lead to President Roosevelt placing restrictions on companies’ connections with belligerent nations, but it eventually loosened as U.S. involvement in WWII became more likely. The world did want to learn from WWI to prevent a second world war, and we did want to learn from WWII to prevent future global conflicts. We seek to learn from the past’s mistakes to hopefully ensure a brighter future.
In this pursuit of using our past to design the future, we make the assumption that the way we think in the future is compatible with the way we thought in the past. Is it right to make this assumption? Perhaps it is impossible to answer this question. But what we can say is that it is very difficult to rid ourselves of the past. Indeed, we don’t want to rid ourselves of our heritage. The preservation of cultural values brings with it both stories, foods, and faiths and also biases, cruelty, and oppression. Our need to maintain a cultural, historical identity, in addition with our individual identity, shapes how our society develops and perhaps plays a large role in the predictability of future development. “But how can you say that?”, many may ask, “When we just elected the most unlikely candidate in the 2016 US presidential election?” Well, in this case, we have to look out how the present influences the future. Our reliance on traditional values and established trends in projecting the future has its safeties and its risks. And the risks associated with this behavior were clearly seen in the election, where current trends, as opposed to traditional candidate likelihood, made the final decision.
Clearly, in the past, history offered a way of recording the deeds of kings and queens, rulers who sought to forever preserve their existence for a brief moment on this world. They conquered this province or they subjugated these people. They know that if they cannot conquer all of space, they may be able to conquer the distant realm of the future through legends and tales. This is a conquest of time, in a way, one propagated by the storytellers and priests and court historians of the land. However, no empire is eternal, and when they collapse, stories are sometimes lost or mutated like a game of “Telephone”. Stories of the deeds of actual individuals could take on the guise of some apocryphal tale. That is not to say that all moral tales derive from a kernel of truth, but it could be that some were born in such a way. It is important to note that just as we are now a global species, meaning that we have established connections between all nations in the world, we have also established deep links with the past through the recording of history. Because of the fundamental restrictions placed on us by the forward-flow of time, we cannot talk with the past, but the past can talk with us. And this is both humbling and frustrating. We can debate and argue all we like with a politician, business leader, scientist, or politician. Across space, we can engage in a dialogue. As social creatures, this dialogue is necessary. Across space, we can only engage in monologue, and we are the receivers. This forces us to listen, and compels us to act in the only way we can, to act for changes in the future.
Interestingly, we can engage in wars with the past. Iconoclasms and cultural revolutions take advantage of our ability to silence the past by taking down symbols and traditions that thread through time. Our inability to talk with the past, to engage in debate, creates a frustration that breeds violent insurgence. Our interaction with those who came before is complex and depends both on what is passed down to us and on our current societal values.
