Book review:
Dowd, Gregory Evans. A Spirited Resistance: The North American
Indian Struggle for Unity, 1745-1815. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1992.
261 pages
Dowd's A Spirited Resistance provides some
examples of considering "history that didn't happen."
For every account of
"history that happened" there might be a complementary book of
"history that didn't happen."
It's important to emphasize
that people and groups in the past continually faced decision options and critical
choices and conflicting imperatives to act, as we do now. People and groups in
the past continually made unique decisions in the face of uncertainties and
competing exigencies, as we do now.
The "history" of an
individual or a group is a distinct track, forward in time, of decisions and
choices and events, some discretionary, some imperative, some unavoidably
random. This process continues through a welter of known and unknown
alternatives. This ever-changing process of life is unique in retrospect, but it
is increasingly, incomprehensibly variable and complex as we consider the
prospects for the future at any point in time.
Thus, the "history that happened"
is one of the possible histories that could have happened. It never was
inevitable. There is difficulty enough in reconstructing, analyzing and
understanding the actual "history that happened." The discovery and illumination
of the course of history, however well done, is profoundly insufficient for the
student of history.
Any possible, speculative
scenario of historical events is a "history that didn't happen." Any
version of the "history that didn't happen" is potentially a
compelling object of interest, and there are limitless different versions. There
is an effectively boundless scope of interest in such histories, and a wide range
of probabilities that they might have occurred.
To be clear, popular accounts
of so-called "alternative history" or "what if?" history
are not suitable exemplars of this theme. An historical treatment that focuses
on a single, arbitrary "what if?" scenario for a known historical
event or extended historical process is of course a "history that didn't
happen," but it is a special case. For example, a speculative presentation
of "The South Won The Civil War" can be entertaining overall, even
instructive in detail, but it is flawed. The author has the benefit of
hindsight and cannot avoid using it. Of necessity, the author must repeatedly,
expansively and arbitrarily choose alternative versions of what actually
happened; the probability of occurrence of such a single, massively
multi-variable alternative actually is vanishing small. Why bother writing or
reading it? One may imagine that simultaneous nasty influenza outbreaks might
have sidelined all the generals in both camps on July 2 in Gettysburg. The
probability of such a scenario is vanishingly small. This scenario may be
entertaining, but it does not merit serious consideration. It is imaginable,
but it adds little to our understanding of history. The popular "what
if?" approach to history is almost always arbitrary, eccentrically narrow
and overwhelmingly improbable.
A structured, exploratory
consideration of "history that didn't happen" could be useful. Such a
structured approach, for example, could include:
·
examination
of the knowledge, values and motivation of historical actors;
·
identification
of realistic, feasible alternative decisions and reactions that might have
occurred at specific points in time or throughout an event in process;
·
analysis
of decision factors that were considered or ignored by the historical actors.
This approach envisions a
retrospective presentation of history that illuminates reasonably feasible
alternative courses of action, and clarifies possible explanations of why the
actors did not make such decisions or pursue such courses of action. This
concept does not assume and generally would avoid any attempt to prove that any
particular alternative decision or action would have been better or should have
been chosen. The point of this essentially objective reconsideration of history
is to clarify the motives and expectations of the actors, and to gain a broader
and deeper appreciation—in analytical contexts framed by hindsight—of what they
thought was happening, what they wanted to happen and what they thought was
possible or probable, all without the benefit of foresight.
A poignant example is Jared
Diamond's question in Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or
Succeed. It includes a chapter on the almost complete deforestation of
Easter Island and the cultural decline of its people who had depended on the
trees for canoes, construction material and fuel. Diamond asks: "What did
the Easter Islander who cut down the last palm tree say while he was doing
it?" (p. 114). By extension, what did the rest of the Easter Islanders say
while he was doing it? Of course, with hindsight it's obvious that cutting down
the last tree was not a good move. Was it obvious in the 17th
century on Easter Island? It would be
interesting to attempt to reconstruct the ax-man's knowledge, values and
motive: could he have not known it was the last tree? Was he concerned about
preserving his essential environment? Did Easter Islanders desire a tree-less
landscape?
Was the last tree worth a million bucks? Forward-thinking,
environmentally sensitized Easter Islanders could have started planning earlier
to figure out how to conserve a minimum number of trees or develop substitutes
for transportation, construction and fuel. What are some possible elaborations
about why that didn't happen? Was any such attempt actually made? Was
tree-cutting strictly a commercial activity? Were there any
social/religious/cultural imperatives regarding tree cutting? Was that ax-wielding
Easter Islander a hero or a villain?
Now, back to Dowd and A Spirited Resistance. Apparently, a
fundamental constraint to the success of the 18th century pan-Indian
prophets on the East Coast was the persistent obstruction of many neutral or
accommodationist chiefs who rejected their prophets' call for both violent and
spiritual resistance to the Anglo-American authorities and settlers. These
neutral chiefs sought to co-exist in relative peace with the Europeans. This
internal division among the native Americans and the longevity of the ill-fated
nativist movement suggests many questions.
In hindsight, it seems, at
least superficially, that the ultimate dominance of the Europeans was
inevitable. Did none of the chiefs in the late 18th century
recognize this imperative? What arguments did both the nativist and neutral
leaders use in their private councils to minimize their prospects for failure? How
did their knowledge, values and motives sustain their doomed objectives for
decades? Is it possible that the prophets might have been substantially
successful if no internal Indian strife had existed?
Dowd says the inter-tribal and
intra-tribal conflicts in leadership actually bolstered the motivation of the
nativists, who argued that the neutral chiefs' failure to respect Indian cultural
and spiritual values was partly to blame for the degradation of their culture
and way of life. Did the neutral chiefs make the same criticism of the
prophets? By implication, Dowd suggests that most nativist and accommodationist
chiefs were doing their honorable best for their people. This viewpoint should
be challenged; can it be confirmed? What was the motivation of the prophets and
nativist chiefs? Did Tenskwatawa share personal attributes with Martin Luther
King? with Billy Graham? with Elmer Gantry?
What primary military,
political, economic and cultural factors were important to the neutral chiefs
and to the prophets? Was their strife righteously motivated and conscientiously
implemented? How much of it, if any, was simply opportunistic, localized
internal wrangling for political power and personal prestige? Did the warriors
and the people and the clans who actively supported the chiefs fully understand
the implications of their commitments? Did the warriors follow Tecumseh for
glory or for their informed vision of a better future? Did any Indian chiefs
believe there was a third version of doing "the right thing"?
Copyright © Richard Carl
Subber 2014 All rights reserved.
