The past as good entertainment

The main lesson of history is that we do not learn the lessons of history. Did (for example) anyone at the Pentagon heed the wisdom of Colonel T. E. Lawrence, soundly advising against the military occupation of Iraq? Of course not. That was way back, buddy: this is now. Experience teaches, time and again — and again.

The present volume accepts the pragmatic irrelevance of history, and celebrates Clio, a muse. It has historians owning up to the fact that history is good entertainment, with some figures from journalism and the entertainment industry affirming that historians indeed possess the extra-mural potential to fill airtime and column space. Simon Schama and Jeremy Isaacs offer particularly eloquent apologia for the sort of period dramatics that have developed on television, especially British television. But there are no dud contributions in the ensemble. Professor Ian Kershaw, who served as consultant to one of the most impressive displays of the genre, The Nazis: A Warning from History (produced by Lawrence Rees and shown on BBC 2 in 1997), voices some queasiness about divergent standards of accuracy between production companies and university departments. Generally, however, everyone is positive about the phenomenon, including the book’s relatively camera-shy editor. The overall air of self-satisfaction is tacitly underpinned by the obvious retort to anyone who complains about the promiscuity of historians on the box. What would you rather? Another show featuring chefs who can shout?

Two sentiments recur as justifications. The first is a variant on Leonardo da Vinci’s claim for the superiority of painting over prose. Television can cover more in 40 minutes than could ever be described in many thousands of words. (This does not inhibit the publication of ‘tie-in’ door-stoppers, of course, written not only for lucrative ends, but to offset the terror of ephemerality.)