HISTORIOGRAPHY: THE HISTORICAL PRECONDITION
Unlike some religions, historical Christianity is inseparably tied to historical events, including the lives of Adam, Abraham, Moses, David, and Jesus. These events, especially those of the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, are crucial to the truth of evangelical Christianity (cf. 1 Cor. 15:12–19); without them, it would cease to exist. Thus, the existence and knowability of certain historical events are essential to maintaining biblical Christianity.
The knowability of history is important not only theologically but also apologetically, for the overall argument in defense of Christianity is based on the historicity of the New Testament documents (see chapter 26). Hence, since the objective knowability of history is strongly challenged by many contemporary historians, it is necessary to counter this claim in order to secure the defense of Christianity.
OBJECTIONS TO THE OBJECTIVITY OF HISTORY
Many arguments have been advanced against the position that history is objectively knowable (see Craig, NH),1 and several will now be examined (see Beard, “TND” in Stern, VH, 323–25). If these disputations are valid, they make the essential historical basis of Christianity both unknowable and unverifiable. These arguments fall into six broad categories: epistemological, axiological, methodological, metaphysical, psychological, and hermeneutical.
The Epistemological Objections
Epistemology deals with how one knows, and relativists believe that objective truth is unknowable. Since this position has earlier been examined and found wanting (see chapter 7), the focus here will be on the historical relativists, who contend that the very conditions by which one knows history are so subjective that one cannot have an objective knowledge of it. Three main challenges are offered.
The Unobservability of History
Historical subjectivists argue that history, unlike science, is not directly observable; in other words, that the historian does not deal with past events but with statements about past events. This enables the historian to deal with facts in an imaginative way, attempting to reconstruct events he did not observe as they occurred. Historical facts, they insist, exist only within the creative mind of the historian, and historical documents do not contain facts, but are without the historian’s understanding mere ink lines on the paper. Further, once the event is over it can never be fully recreated. Hence, the historian must impose meaning on his fragmentary and second-hand record (see Becker, “DWH,” in Snyder, DWH, 131).
There are two reasons offered as to why the historian has only indirect access to the past. First, it is claimed that, unlike a scientist, the historian’s world is composed of records and not events. This is why the historian must contribute a “reconstructed picture” of the past, and in this sense the past is really a product of the present.
Second, historical relativists assert that the scientist can test his view, whereas the historian cannot—experimentation is not possible with historical events. The scientist has the advantage of repeatability; he may subject his views to falsification. However, the unobservable historical event is no longer verifiable; it is part of the forever departed past. Therefore, what one believes about the past is no more than a reflection of his own imagination, a subjective construction in the minds of present historians that cannot hope to be an objective representation of what really happened.
The Fragmentary Nature of Historical Accounts
The second objection to the objectivity of history relates to its fragmentary nature. At best historians can hope for completeness of documentation, but completeness of the events themselves is never possible. Optimally, documents cover only a small fraction of the events themselves (Beard, “TND” in Stern, VH, 323), and from only fragmentary documents one cannot validly draw full and final conclusions.
Furthermore, the documents do not present the events, but only an interpretation of the events mediated through the one who recorded them. The best-case scenario, then, is that we have only a fragmentary record of what someone else thought happened: “What really happened would still have to be reconstructed in the mind of the historian” (Carr, WIH, 20). Because the documents are so fragmentary and the events so distant, objectivity becomes a will-o’-the-wisp for the historian. He not only has too few pieces of the puzzle, but the partial pictures on the few pieces he does have were merely painted from the mind of the one who passed the pieces down to us.
The Historical Conditioning of the Historian
Historical relativists insist that the historian is a product of his time, and as such he is subject to the unconscious programming of his era. It is impossible, allegedly, for the historian to stand back and view history objectively because he too is part of the historical process. Hence, historical synthesis depends on the personality of the writer as well as the social and religious milieu in which he lives (Pirenne, “WAHTD” in Meyerhoff, P, 97). In this sense one must study the historian before one can understand his history.
Since the historian is part of the historical process, objectivity, it is said, can never be attained. The history of one generation will be rewritten by the next, and so on; no historian can transcend his historical relativity and view the world process from the outside (Collingwood, IH, 248). At best there can be successive but less than final historical interpretations, each viewing history from the vantage point of its own generation of historians. Therefore, there is no such person as a neutral historian; each remains a child of his own day.
The Axiological (Value) Objection
The historian cannot avoid making value judgments. This, argue historical relativists, renders objectivity unobtainable, for even in the selection and arrangement of materials, value judgments are made. Titles of chapters and sections are not without implied value judgments, and such judgments are relative to the one making them.
As one historian put it, the very subject matter of history is “value-charged” (Dray, PH, 23). The facts of history consist of murders, oppression, and so forth, and these cannot be described in morally neutral words. By his use of ordinary language, then, the historian is forced to make value judgments.
Further, by the very fact that history deals with flesh-and-blood human beings with motives and purposes, an analysis of history must of necessity comment on these. Whether, for instance, one is called a “dictator” or a “benevolent ruler” is a statement of value; how can one describe Josef Stalin without making such statements? And if one were to attempt a kind of scientifically neutral description of past events without any stated or implied interpretation of human purposes, it would not be history but mere raw-boned chronicle without historical meaning.
Once the historian admits what he cannot avoid, namely, that he must make some value judgments about past events, then his history has lost objectivity. In short, so the objection goes, there is no way for the historian to keep himself out of his history.
The Methodological Objections
Methodological objections relate to the procedure by which history is done. There are several methodological objections to the belief in objective history necessary to establish the truth of Christianity.
The Selective Nature of Historical Methodology
As was suggested by the epistemological objections, the historian does not have direct access to the events of the past, but merely to fragmentary interpretations of those events contained in historical documents. Now, what makes objectivity even more hopeless is the fact that the historian makes a selection from these fragmentary reports and builds his interpretation of the past events on a select number of partial reports of the past events. There are volumes in archives that most historians do not even touch (Beard, “TND” in Stern, VH, 324).
The actual selection among the fragmentary accounts, so the argument goes, is influenced by many subjective and relative factors, including personal prejudice, availability of materials, knowledge of the languages, personal beliefs, social conditions, and so on. Hence, the historian himself is inextricably involved with the history he writes, and what is included versus what is excluded in his interpretation will always be a matter of subjective choice. No matter how objective an historian may attempt to be, it is practically impossible for him to present what really happened. His “history” is no more than his own interpretation based on his own subjective selection of fragmentary interpretations of past and unrepeatable events.
It is argued, consequently, that the facts of history do not speak for themselves: “The facts speak only when the historian calls on them; it is he who decides to which facts to give the floor, and in what order or context” (Carr, WIH, 32). To summarize, when the “facts” speak, it is not the original events that are speaking but later fragmentary opinions about those events. The original facts or events have long since perished, and so, according to historical relativism, by the very nature of the endeavor the historian can never hope for objectivity.
The Need to Select and Arrange Historical Materials
Once the historian takes his fragmentary documents that he must view indirectly through the interpretation of the original source, and once he takes his selected amount of material from the available archives and begins to provide an interpretive structure to it, by the use of his own value-laden language, and within the overall worldview that he presupposes, he not only understands it from the relative vantage point of his own generation but he also must select and arrange the topic of history in accordance with his own subjective preferences. In short, the dice are loaded against objectivity before he picks up his pen. That is, in the actual writing of the fragmentary, secondhand accounts from his philosophical and personal point of view, there is a further subjective choice of arrangement of the material (Collingwood, IH, 285–90).
The selection and arrangement of material will be determined by personal and social factors already discussed. The final written product will be prejudiced by what is included in and what is excluded from the material. It will lack objectivity by how it is arranged and by the emphasis given to it in the overall presentation. The selection made in terms of the framework will either be narrow or broad, clear or confused. Whatever its nature, the framework is necessarily reflective of the mind of the historian (Beard, “TND” in Stern, VH, 150–51), and this moves one still further away from objectively knowing what really happened. It is concluded by the subjectivists, then, that the hopes of objectivity are finally dashed.
The Metaphysical (Worldview) Objections
Several metaphysical objections have been leveled against the belief in objective history. Each one is predicated, either theoretically or practically, on the premise that one’s worldview colors the study of history.
The Need to Structure the Facts of History
This objection is stated along these lines: Partial knowledge of the past makes it necessary for the historian to “fill in” gaping holes out of his own imagination. As a child draws the lines between the dots on a picture, so the historian supplies the connections between events. Without the historian the dots are not numbered, nor are they arranged in an obvious manner. The historian must use his imagination in order to provide continuity to the disconnected and fragmentary facts provided him.
Furthermore, the historian is not content to tell us simply what happened; he feels compelled to explain why it happened (Walsh, PH, 32). In this way history is made fully coherent and intelligible—good history has both theme and unity, which are provided by the historian. Facts alone do not make history any more than disconnected dots make a picture, and herein, according to the subjectivist, lies the difference between chronicle and history: The former is merely the unrefined material used by the historian to construct history. Without the structure provided by the historian, the mere “stuff” of history would be meaningless.
In addition, the study of history is a study of causes. The historian wants to know why; he wishes to weave a web of interconnected events into a unified whole. Because of this he cannot avoid interjecting his own subjectivity into history; hence, even if there is some semblance of objectivity in chronicle, nonetheless there is no hope for objectivity in history. History is in principle nonobjective, since the very thing that makes it history (as opposed to mere chronicle) is the interpretive structure or framework given to it from the subjective vantage point of the historian. Therefore, it is concluded that the necessity of structure inevitably makes historical objectivity impossible.
The Unavoidability of Worldviews
Every historian interprets the past within the overall framework of his own Weltanschauung, that is, his world-and-life-view. Basically, there are three different philosophies of history within which historians operate: the chaotic, the cyclical, and the linear views of history (Beard, “TND” in Stern, VH, 151). Which one of these the historian adopts will be a matter of faith or philosophy and not a matter of mere fact.
Unless one view or another is presupposed, no overall interpretation is possible; the Weltanschauung will determine whether the historian sees the events of the world as a meaningless maze (chaotic), as a series of endless repetitions (cyclical), or as moving in a purposeful way toward a goal (linear). These worldviews inevitably are both necessary and value-oriented. So, it is argued by the subjectivists, without one of these worldviews, the historian cannot interpret the events of the past. However, through a worldview objectivity becomes impossible.
Further, subjectivists insist that a worldview is not generated from the facts; facts do not speak for themselves, but gain their meaning only within the overall context of the worldview. Without the structure of the worldview framework, the stuff of history has no meaning. Augustine (354–430), for example, viewed history as a great theodicy,2 but Hegel (1770–1831) saw it as an unfolding of the divine. Supposedly, then, it is not any archaeological or factual find but the religious or philosophical presuppositions that prompted each man to develop his view. Eastern philosophies of history are even more diverse, as they involve a cyclical rather than a linear pattern.
Once one admits the relativity or perspectivity of his worldview as opposed to another, the historical relativists insist that he has thereby given up all right to claim objectivity. If there are several different ways to interpret the same facts, depending on the overall perspective one takes, then there is no single objective interpretation of history.
Miracles Are by Nature Superhistorical
Even if one grants that secular history could be known objectively, there still remains the problem of the subjectivity of religious history. Some writers make a strong distinction between Historie and Geschichte (Kahler, SCHJ, 63): The former is empirical and objectively knowable to some degree, but the latter is spiritual and unknowable, historically speaking—as spiritual or superhistorical, there is no objective way to verify it.
Spiritual history, allegedly, has no necessary connection with the spatiotemporal continuum of empirical events. It is a myth with subjective religious significance to the believer but with no objective grounding. Like the story of George Washington and the cherry tree, Geschichte is a story made up of events that probably never happened, but that inspire men to some moral or religious good.
If this distinction is applied to the New Testament, then even if the life and central teachings of Jesus of Nazareth could be objectively established, there is no historical way to confirm the New Testament’s miraculous dimension. Miracles do not happen as part of Historie and, therefore, are not subject to objective analysis; they are Geschichte events and as such cannot be analyzed by historical methodology.
Many theologians have accepted this distinction. Paul Tillich (1886–1965) claimed that it is “a disastrous distortion of the meaning of faith to identify it with the belief in the historical validity of the biblical stories” (DF, 87). He believed, with Søren Kierkegaard, that the important thing is whether or not it evokes an appropriate religious response. With this Rudolf Bultmann and Schubert Ogden would also concur, along with much of recent theological thought.
Even those like Karl Jaspers (1883–1969), who opposed Bultmann’s more radical demythologization view, accepted, nevertheless, the distinction between the spiritual and empirical dimensions of miracles (Jaspers, MC, 16–17). On the more conservative end of those maintaining this distinction is Ian Ramsey (d. 1972), who insisted, “It is not enough to think of the facts of the Bible as ‘brute historical facts’ to which the evangelists give distinctive ‘interpretation.’ ” For Ramsey, the Bible is historical only if “ ‘history’ refers to situations as odd as those which are referred to by that paradigm of the Fourth Gospel: ‘the Word became flesh.’ ” Ramsey concludes, “No attempt to make the language of the Bible conform to a precise, straightforward public language—whether that language be scientific of historical—has ever succeeded” (RL, 118–19).
According to the historical subjectivists, there is always something “more” than the empirical in every religious or miraculous situation. The purely empirical situation is “odd” and thereby evocative of a discernment that calls for a commitment of religious significance (Ramsey, RL, chapter 1).
Miracles Are in Principle Historically Unknowable
On the basis of Ernst Troeltsch’s principle of analogy (see quotation below), some historians have come to object to the possibility of ever establishing a miracle based on testimony about the past. Troeltsch (1865–1923) stated the problem this way:
On the analogy of the events known to us we seek by conjecture and sympathetic understanding to explain and reconstruct the past.… [And] since we discern the same process of phenomena in operation in the past as in the present, we see, there as here, the various historical cycles of human life influencing and intersecting one another. (Troeltsch, “H” in Hastings, ERE.)
Without uniformity, so the argument goes, we could know nothing about the past, for without an analogy from the present we could know nothing about what happened previously. In accord with this principle, some have insisted, “No amount of testimony is ever permitted to establish as past reality a thing that cannot be found in present reality.… In every other case the witness may have a perfect character—all that goes for nothing” (Becker, “DWH” in Snyder, DWH, 12–13). In other words, unless one can identify miracles in the present, he has no experience on which to base his understanding of alleged miracles in the past.
The historian, like the scientist, must adopt a methodological skepticism toward alleged events in the past for which he has no parallel in the present—the present is the foundation of our knowledge of the past. As F. H. Bradley put it:
We have seen that history rests in the last resort upon an inference from our experience, a judgment based upon our own present state of things.… [So] when we are asked to affirm the existence in past time of events, the effects of causes which confessedly are without analogy in the world in which we live, and which we know—we are at a loss for any answer but this, that … we are asked to build a house without a foundation.… How can we attempt this without contradicting ourselves? (Bradley, PCH, 100.)
The Psychological Objection
It is argued, especially by those opposed to the New Testament, that history recorded by persons with religious motives cannot be trusted—their religious passion is said to obscure their historical objectivity, and thus they tend to reinterpret history in the light of their religious beliefs.
A similar criticism is at the basis of traditional form and redactional criticism, by which the New Testament writers are said to be creating or recreating the words of Jesus rather than strictly reporting them (see part 2, chapters 19 and 26). That is, the Gospels as we now have them more reflect the religious experience of the subsequent Christian church than they do the pure words of Jesus.
The Hermeneutical Objection
Perhaps the most radical form of historical relativism is deconstructionism, which treats history as literature. One of the foremost proponents of this view is Hayden White, who claims in his book Metahistory that history is poetry. White insists that no history can be written without bringing the material into a “coordinated whole” under some “unifying concept” (M, 89), and he believes these concepts are chosen from poetry: “I have identified four different archetypal plot structures by which historians can figure historical processes in their narratives as stories of a particular kind: Romance, Tragedy, Comedy, and Satire” (M, 41). No one of these is better than the others or correct as opposed to incorrect; they are simply different. This has “permitted me to view the various debates over how history ought to be written … as essentially matters of stylistic variation within a single universe of discourse” (M, 42).
A RESPONSE TO HISTORICAL RELATIVISM
Despite these many strong objections to the possibility of historical objectivity, the case is by no means closed, for there are many flaws in the historical relativists’ position. First, a direct response will be offered to each objection. Then, some overall arguments against historical subjectivism will be given.
The direct responses given are in the order of the above objections.
A Response to the Epistemological Objections
Response to the Problem of the Unobservability of Historical Events
The first and most fundamental response to the historical subjectivists is to point out that whatever is meant by the “objective” knowledge of history they deny, it must be possible, since in their very denial they imply that they have it. How could they know that everyone’s knowledge of history was not objective unless they had an objective knowledge of it by which they could determine that these other views were not objective? One cannot know not that unless he knows that.
Further, if by “objective” the subjectivists mean absolute knowledge, then of course no human historian can be objective. On the other hand, if “objective” means an accurate and adequate3 presentation that reasonable people should accept, then the door is open to the possibility of objectivity.
Assuming this latter sense, it should be argued that history can be just as objective as some sciences (Block, HC, 50). For example, paleontology (historical geology) is considered to be an objective science, and it deals with physical facts and processes of the past. However, the events represented by the fossil finds are no more directly accessible or repeatable to the scientists than are historical events to the historian.
True, there are some differences. The fossil is a mechanically accurate imprint of the original event, and the eyewitness of history may be less precise in his report. But the historian may rejoin by pointing out that the natural processes that mar the fossil imprint parallel the potential personal filtering of events through the testimony of the eyewitness. At least it may be argued that if one can determine the integrity and reliability of the eyewitness, one cannot slam the door on the possibility of objectivity in history any more than on objectivity in geology.
The scientist might contend that he can repeat the processes of the past by present experimentation, whereas the historian cannot. But even here the situations are similar, for in this sense history too can be “repeated.” Similar patterns of events, by which comparisons can be made, recur today as they occurred in the past. Limited social experiments can be performed to see if human history repeats itself, so to speak, and widespread experiments can be observed naturally in the differing conditions throughout the ongoing history of the world. In short, the historian, no less than the scientist, has the tools for determining what really happened in the past. The lack of direct access to the original facts or events does not hinder the one more than the other.
Some have suggested that there is yet a crucial difference between history and science of past events. They insist that scientific facts “speak for themselves,” while historical facts do not. However, even here the analogy is close for several reasons.
If “fact” means the original event, then neither geology nor history is in possession of any facts. “Fact” must be taken by both to mean information about the original event, and in this latter sense facts do not exist merely subjectively in the mind of the historian. Facts are objective data whether anyone reads them or not.
What one does with data, that is, what meaning or interpretation he gives to them, can in no way eliminate the data. There remains for both science and history a solid core of objective facts, and the door is thereby left open for objectivity in both fields. In this way one may draw a valid distinction between propaganda and history: the former lacks sufficient basis in objective fact, but the latter does not. Indeed, without objective facts, no protest can be raised either against poor history or propaganda.
If history is entirely in the mind of the beholder, there is no reason one cannot decide to behold it any way he desires. In this case there would be no difference between good history and trashy propaganda. But historians, even historical subjectivists, recognize the difference. Hence, even they assume an objective knowledge of history.
Response to the Problem of Fragmentary Accounts
The fact that accounts of history are fragmentary does not destroy historical objectivity any more than the existence of only a limited amount of fossils destroys the objectivity of geology. The fossil remains represent only a very tiny percentage of the living beings of the past; this does not hinder scientists from attempting to reconstruct an objective picture of what really happened in geological history. Scientists sometimes reconstruct a whole man on the basis of only partial skeletal remains—even a single jawbone. While this procedure is perhaps rightly suspect, nonetheless one does not need every bone in order to fill in the probable picture of the whole animal. Like a puzzle, as long as one has the key pieces he can reconstruct the rest with a measurable degree of probability. For example, by the principle of bilateral similarity one can assume that the left side of a partial skull would look like the right side that was found.
Of course, the finite reconstruction of both science and history is subject to revision. Subsequent finds may provide new facts that call for new interpretations. But at least there is an objective basis in fact for the meaning attributed to the find. Interpretations can neither create the facts nor ignore them if they wish to approach objectivity. We may conclude, then, that history need be no less objective than geology for depending on fragmentary accounts. The history of human beings is transmitted to us by partial record; scientific knowledge is also partial, and it depends on assumptions and an overall framework that may prove to be partially inadequate upon the discovery of more facts.
Whatever difficulty there may be from a strictly scientific point of view in filling in the gaps between the facts, once one has assumed a philosophical stance toward the world, the problem of objectivity in general is resolved. If there is a God, and good evidence says there is (see chapter 2), then the overall picture is already drawn; the facts of history will merely fill in the details of its meaning. If this is a theistic universe, then the artist’s sketch is already known in advance; the detail and coloring will come only as all the facts of history are fit into the overall sketch known to be true from the theistic framework. In this sense, historical objectivity is most certainly possible within a given framework—such as a theistic worldview. Objectivity resides in the view that best fits all the facts into the overall system, that is, into systematic consistency.
A Response to the Axiological (Value) Objection
One may grant the point that ordinary language is value-laden and that value judgments are inevitable. This by no means makes historical objectivity impossible (Butterfield, “MJH” in Meyerhoff, P, 244). Objectivity means to be fair in dealing with the facts; it means to present what happened as accurately as possible.
Further, objectivity means that when one interprets why these events occurred, the language of the historian should ascribe to these events the value they really had in their original context. If this is accomplished, then an objective account of history is achieved. In this way objectivity is seen to be demanding value judgments rather than avoiding them.
The question is not whether value language can be objective but rather whether value statements objectively portray the events the way they really were. Once the worldview has been determined, value judgments are not undesirable or merely subjective; they are, in fact, essential and objectively required. If this is a theistic world, then it is not objective to place anything but a proper theistic value on the facts of history.
A Response to the Methodological Objections
Every historian employs a methodology—this in itself does not demonstrate the inadequacy of his history. The question is whether his methodology is good or bad. In response to this objection, several dimensions of the problem need discussion.
Response to the Problem of Historical Conditioning
It is true that every historian is a product of his time; each person does occupy a relative place in the changing events of the spatio-temporal world. However, it does not follow that because the historian is a product of his time, his history is also purely a product of the time. That a person cannot avoid a relative place in history does not mean his perspective cannot attain a meaningful degree of objectivity. This criticism confuses the content of knowledge and the process of attaining it (Mandelbaum, PHK, 94), as well as incorrectly joining the formation of a view with its verification. Where one derives a hypothesis is not essentially related to how its truth can be established.
Further, if relativity is unavoidable, then the position of the historical relativists is self-refuting, for either their view is historically conditioned and therefore unobjective, or else it is not relative but objective. If the latter, it thereby admits that it is possible to be objective in viewing history.
On the contrary, if the position of historical relativism is itself relative, then it cannot be taken as objectively true—it is simply a subjective opinion that has no immovable basis. In short, if it is a subjective opinion it cannot eliminate the possibility that history is objectively knowable, and if it is an objective fact about history, then objective facts can be known about history. In the first case objectivity is not eliminated, and in the second relativity is self-defeated; in either case, objectivity is possible.
Finally, the constant rewriting of history is based on the assumption that objectivity is possible: Why strive for accuracy unless it is believed that the revision is more objectively true than the previous view? Why critically analyze unless improvement toward a more accurate view is the assumed goal? Perfect objectivity may be practically unattainable within the limited resources of the historian on most if not all topics, but be this as it may, the inability to attain 100 percent objectivity is a long way from relativity. Reaching a degree of objectivity that is subject to criticism and revision is a more realistic conclusion than the relativist’s arguments. There is no reason to eliminate the possibility of a sufficient degree of historical objectivity.
Response to the Problem of the Selectivity of Materials
That the historian must select his materials does not automatically make history purely subjective. Jurors make judgments “beyond reasonable doubt” without having all the evidence. If the historian has the relevant and crucial evidence, it will be sufficient to attain objectivity; one need not know everything in order to know something. No scientist knows all the facts, and yet objectivity is claimed for his discipline. As long as no important fact is overlooked, there is no reason to eliminate the possibility of objectivity in history any more than in science.
The selection of facts can be objective to the degree that the facts are selected and reconstructed in the context in which the events represented actually occurred. Since it is impossible for any historian to pack into his account everything available on a subject, it is important for him to select the points representative of the period of which he writes (Collingwood, IH, 100). Condensation need not imply distortion; the minimum can be an objective summary of the maximum.
What is more, the evidence for the historicity of the New Testament, from which Christian apologetics draws its primary evidence, is greater than for that of any other document from the ancient world (see part 2, chapter 26). Thus, if the events behind it cannot be known objectively, then it is impossible to know anything else from that time period.
A Response to the Metaphysical (Worldview) Objections
Admittedly, each historian has a worldview, and the events are interpreted through this grid. But this in itself does not make objectivity impossible, since there are objective ways to treat the question of worldviews.
Response to the Problem of Arranging Materials
There is no reason why the historian cannot arrange materials without distorting the past (Nagel, “LHA” in Meyerhoff, P, 208). Since the original construction of events is available to neither the historian nor the geologist, it is necessary to reconstruct the past on the basis of the available evidence. Yet reconstruction does not necessitate revision; selecting material may occur without neglecting significant matters. Every historian must arrange his material. The important thing is whether or not it is arranged or rearranged in accordance with the original arrangement of events as they really occurred. As long as the historian incorporated consistently and comprehensively all the significant events in accordance with the way things really were, he was being objective. It is neglecting or twisting important facts that distorts objectivity.
The historian may desire to be selective in the compass of his study; he may wish to study only the political, economic, or religious dimensions of a specific period. But such specialization does not demand total subjectivity, for one can be particular without losing the overall context in which he operates. It is one thing to focus on specifics within an overall field and quite another to totally ignore or deliberately distort the big picture in which the intensified interest is occurring. As long as the specialist stays in touch with reality rather than reflecting the pure subjectivity of his own fancy, there is no reason why a measurable degree of objectivity cannot be maintained.
Response to the Problem of the Structuring of the Materials
Those who argue against the objectivity of history apart from an overall worldview must be granted the point, for without a worldview it makes no sense to talk about objective meaning (Popper, PH, 150f). Meaning is system-dependent within a given meaning, but within another system it may have a very different meaning. Without a context meaning cannot be determined, and the context is provided by the worldview and not by the bare facts themselves.
Assuming the correctness of this criticism, as we do, does not eliminate the possibility of an objective understanding of history. Rather, it points to the necessity of establishing a worldview in order to attain objectivity. This has already been done earlier (chapter 2) in establishing the evidence for a theistic worldview. Once this is clear, the metaphysical framework for an objective view of history is in place.
Without such a metaphysical structure, one is simply arguing in a circle with regard to the assumed causal connection and the attributed importance of events. To affirm that facts have “internal arrangement” begs the question; the real question is, “How does one know the correct arrangement?” Since the facts are arrangeable in at least three different ways (chaotic, cyclical, and linear), it is logically fallacious to assume that one of these is the way the facts were actually arranged. The same set of dots can have the lines drawn in many ways.
The assumption that the historian is simply discovering (and not drawing) the lines is gratuitous. The fact is that the lines are not known to be there apart from an interpretive framework through which one views them. Therefore, the problem of the objective meaning of history cannot be resolved apart from appeal to worldview. Once the skeletal sketch is known, then one can know the objective placing (meaning) of the facts. However, apart from a structure the mere grist of history means nothing.
Without a metaphysical framework there is no way to know which events in history are the most significant and, hence, there is no way to know the true significance of these and other events in their overall context. The argument that importance is determined by which events influence the most people is inadequate for several reasons. This is a form of historical utilitarianism, and as such it is subject to the same criticisms as any utilitarian test for truth (see chapter 7). The most does not determine the best; all that is proved by great influence is great influence, not great importance or great value.
Even after most people have been influenced, one can still ask the question as to the truth or value of the event that influenced them. Significance is not determined by ultimate outcome but by overall framework. Of course, if one assumes as an overall framework that the events that influence the most people in the long run are most significant, then that utilitarian framework will indeed determine the significance of an event. But what right does one have to assume a utilitarian framework any more than a non-utilitarian one? Here again, it is a matter of justifying one’s overall framework or worldview.
The argument advanced by some objectivists is that past events must be structured or they are unknowable and faulty. However, all this argument proves is that it is necessary to understand facts through some structure, otherwise it makes no sense to speak of facts. The question of which structure is correct must be determined on some basis other than the mere facts themselves. Further, even if there were an objectivity of bare facts, it would provide at best only the mere what of history. But objective meaning deals with the why of these events; this is impossible apart from a structure of meaning in which the facts may find their placement of significance. Objective meaning apart from a worldview is impossible.
Nevertheless, granted that there is justification for adopting a theistic worldview, the objective meaning of history becomes possible, for within the theistic context each fact of history becomes a theistic fact. Given the factual order of events and the known causal connection of events, the possibility of objective meaning surfaces. The chaotic and the cyclical frameworks are eliminated in favor of the linear, and within the linear view of events causal connections emerge as the result of their context in a theistic universe. Theism provides the sketch on which history paints the complete picture. The pigments of mere fact take on real meaning as they are blended together on the theistic sketch. In this context, objectivity means systematic consistency; that is, the most meaningful way all of the facts of history can be blended together into the whole theistic sketch is what really happened—historical facts.
Response to the Alleged Unknowability of Miracles
Even if the objectivity of history is accepted, many historians object to any history that contains miracles, which poses a further metaphysical problem for Christianity. This secular rejection of miracle-history is often based on Troeltsch’s principle of analogy, and this argument turns out to be similar to Hume’s objection to miracles built on the uniformity of nature (see chapter 3). David Hume argued that no testimony about alleged miracles should be accepted if it contradicts the uniform testimony of nature; in like manner, Troeltsch would reject any particular event in the past for which there is no analogue in the uniform experience of the present.
Now, there are at least two reasons for rejecting Troeltsch’s argument from analogy. First, as C. S. Lewis insightfully commented,
If we admit God, must we admit Miracles? Indeed, indeed, you have no security against it. That is the bargain. Theology says to you in effect, “Admit God and with Him the risk of a few miracles, and I in return will ratify your faith in uniformity as regards the overwhelming majority of events” (Lewis, M, 109).
A miracle is a special act of God. If God exists, then acts of God are possible; hence, any alleged historical procedure that eliminates miracles is bogus.
Second, Troeltsch’s principle begs the question in favor of a naturalistic interpretation of all historical events (see chapter 3)—it is a methodological exclusion of the possibility of accepting the miraculous in history. The testimony for regularity in general is in no way a testimony against an unusual event in particular; the cases are different and should not be evaluated in the same way. As we demonstrated, empirical generalizations (e.g., “Men do not rise from the dead”) should not be used as counter-testimony to good eyewitness accounts that in a particular case someone did rise from the dead. The historical evidence for any particular historical event must be assessed on its own merits, completely aside from generalizations about other events.
There is another objection to the Troeltsch analogy-type argument: It proves too much. Again, as Richard Whateley (1787–1863) convincingly argued, on this uniformitarian assumption not only would miracles be excluded but so would many unusual events of the past, including those surrounding Napoleon Bonaparte (1769–1821) (Whateley, HDCENB, all).
No one can deny that the probability against Napoleon’s successes was great. His prodigious army was destroyed in Russia, and a few months later he led a different army in Germany that likewise was ruined at Leipzig. However, the French supplied him with yet another army sufficient to make a formidable stand in France—this was repeated five times until at last he was confined to an island. Without question, the particular events of his career were highly improbable, but there is no reason on these grounds that we should doubt the historicity of the Napoleonic adventures. History, contrary to scientific hypothesis, does not depend on the universal and repeatable; rather, it stands on the sufficiency of good testimony for particular and unrepeatable events. Were this not so, nothing could be learned from history.
It is clearly a mistake to import uniformitarian methods from scientific experimentation into historical research. Repeatability and generality are needed to establish scientific laws or general patterns (of which miracles would be particular exceptions), but what is needed to establish historical events is credible testimony that these particular events did indeed occur (see part 2, chapter 26). So it is with miracles—it is an unjustifiable mistake in historical methodology to assume that no unusual and particular event can be believed no matter how great the evidence for it. Troeltsch’s principle of analogy would destroy genuine historical thinking. The honest historian must be open to the possibility of unique and particular events of the past, whether they are miraculous or not. He must not exclude a priori the possibility of establishing events like the resurrection of Christ without a careful examination of the testimony and evidence concerning them.
It is incorrect to assume that the same principles by which empirical science works can be used in forensic science. Since the latter deals with unrepeated and unobserved events in the past, it operates on the principles of origin science, not on those of operation science (see Geisler, “O, S” in BECA, 567f.). These principles do not eliminate, but establish, the possibility of objective knowledge of the past—whether in science or history.
Observations on the Nature of Miracles and History
In response to these analyses of the historical objectivity of miracles, it is important to make several observations.
First, surely the Christian apologist does not want to contend that miracles are a mere product of the historical process. The supernatural occurs in the historical but it is not a product of the natural process. What makes it miraculous is the fact that the natural process alone does not account for it; there must be an injection from the realm of the supernatural into the natural, or else there is no miracle. This is especially true of a New Testament miracle (see chapter 3), where the means by which God performed the miracle is unknown.
Second, in accordance with the objectivity of history just discussed, there is no good reason why the Christian should yield to the radical existential theologians on the question of the objective and historical dimensions of a miracle. Again, miracles are not of the natural historical process, but they do occur in it. Even Karl Barth (1886–1968) made a similar distinction when he wrote,
The resurrection of Christ, or his second coming … is not a historical event; the historians may reassure themselves … that our concern here is with the event which, though it is the only real happening in, is not a real happening of, history. (WGWM, 90.)
But unlike many existential theologians, we must also preserve the historical context in which a miracle occurs, for without it there is no way to verify the objectivity of the miraculous. Miracles do have a historical dimension without which no objectivity of religious history is possible, and, as was argued above, historical methodology can identify this objectivity (just as surely as scientific objectivity can be established) within an accepted framework of a theistic world. In short, miracles may be more than historical but they cannot be less than historical. It is only if miracles do have historical dimensions that they are both objectively meaningful and apologetically valuable.
Third, a miracle can be identified within an empirical or historical context both directly and indirectly, both objectively and subjectively. A miracle is both scientifically unusual as well as theologically and morally relevant. The first characteristic is knowable in a directly empirical way; the second is knowable only indirectly through the empirical in that it is “odd” and evocative of something more than the mere empirical data of the event. For example, a virgin birth is scientifically odd, but in the case of Christ it is represented as a sign that was used to draw attention to Him as something more than human. The theological and moral characteristics of a miracle are not empirically objective, in this sense they are experienced subjectively.
This does not mean, however, that there is no objective basis for the moral dimensions of a miracle. Since this is a theistic universe (see chapter 2), morality is objectively grounded in God. Therefore, the nature and will of God are the objective grounds by which one can test whether or not the event is subjectively evocative of what is objectively in accord with what is already known of God; if not, one shouldn’t believe the event is a miracle. It is axiomatic that acts of a theistic God would not be used to confirm what is not the truth of God.
To sum up, miracles happen in history but are not completely of history. Miracles, nonetheless, are historically grounded—they are more than historical but are not less than historical. There are both empirical and super-empirical dimensions to supernatural events. The former are knowable in an objective way, and the latter have a subjective appeal to the believer. But even here there is an objective ground in the known truth and goodness of God by which the believer can judge whether or not the empirically odd situations that appeal to him for a response are really acts of this true and good God.
A Response to the Psychological Objection
Another charge that is often heard is that the religious purposes of the Gospel writers, which are evident to all, negate their ability to present an objective historical report. Both A. N. Sherwin-White and Michael Grant have responded to this complaint.4 Indeed, a form of this criticism is implied in both form criticism and redactional criticism, by which the Gospel writers are said to be creating the words of Jesus in terms of their own religious setting rather than strictly reporting them. This objection is without grounds for several reasons.5
First, there is no logical connection between one’s purpose and the accuracy of the history he writes. People with no religious motives can write bad history, and people with religious motives can write good history.
Second, other important writers from the ancient world wrote with motives similar to the Gospel authors. Plutarch (b. a.d. 46), for example, declared, “My design was not to write histories, but lives.”6
Third, complete religious propaganda literature, such as some critics see the New Testament, was actually unknown in the ancient world. Sherwin-White declared, “We are not acquainted with this type of writing in ancient historiography” (RSRLNT, 189).
Fourth, unlike other early accounts, the Gospels were written, at a maximum, only decades after the events. Many other secular writings, such as those of Livy (59/64 b.c.—a.d. 17) and Plutarch, were recorded centuries after the events.
Fifth, as shown above, the historical confirmation of New Testament writings is overwhelming (see part 2, chapter 23). So the argument that their religious purpose destroyed their ability to write good history is simply contrary to the facts.
Sixth, the New Testament writers take great care to distinguish their words from the words of Jesus, as any red-letter edition of the Bible clearly indicates (see also John 2:20–22; 1 Cor. 7:10, 12; 11:24–25; Acts 20:35). This act of distinguishing reveals their honest attempt to separate what Jesus actually said from their own thoughts and feelings on the matter.
Seventh, in spite of the religious purpose of Luke’s gospel (Luke 1:4; cf. Acts 1:1), he states a clear interest for historical accuracy, which has been overwhelmingly corroborated by archaeology (see part 2, chapter 26). In his own words,
Many have undertaken to draw up an account of the things that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed down to us by those who from the first were eyewitnesses and servants of the word. [Therefore,] since I myself have carefully investigated everything from the beginning, it seemed good also to me to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the certainty of the things you have been taught. (Luke 1:1–4, emphasis mine)
Eighth, the existence of religious bias is no guarantee of historical inaccuracy. A writer can recognize his own bias and avoid its crippling effects. If this were not so, then even people with nonreligious (or anti-religious) biases could not write accurate history either. Yet many claim to be able to do so.
Ninth, the New Testament is confirmed to be historical by the same criteria applied to other ancient writings. Thus, this criticism either misses the mark or else it destroys all ancient histories.
Tenth, if the historicity of an event must be denied because of the strong motivation of the person giving it, then virtually all eyewitness testimony from survivors of the holocaust must be discounted. But this is absurd, since these people provide the best evidence of all. Likewise, a physician’s passion to save his patient’s life does not negate his ability to make an objective diagnosis of his disease, nor do an author’s religious motives nullify his ability to record accurate history.
A Response to the Hermeneutical Objection
The hermeneutical objection utterly fails to show that all history is relativistic. There are several basic reasons sufficient to demonstrate why the possibility of objectivity in history has not—and cannot—be systematically eliminated.
The Relativity Argument Presupposes Some Objective Knowledge
A careful look at the arguments of the relativists reveals that they presuppose objective knowledge about history, and this is seen in at least two ways. First, they speak of the need to select and arrange the “facts” of history. But if they are really “facts,” then they, as facts, represent some objective knowledge in themselves. After all, it is one thing to argue about the interpretation of the facts, but quite another to deny that there are any facts of history to argue about. For example, it is understandable that one’s worldview will color how he understands the fact that Christ died on a cross in the early first century; it is quite another to deny that this is an historical reality (see chapter 26).
Second, the very fact that relativists believe one’s worldview can distort how one views history implies that there is a correct way to view it. Otherwise, how would one know that some views are distorted? That some views are incorrect (not correct) implies that there is a correct view. This leads to the next criticism.
Total Historical Relativity Is Self-Defeating
As a matter of fact, total relativity (whether historical, philosophical, or moral) is self-defeating. How could one know that history was completely unknowable unless he knew something about it? How could he know all historical knowledge was subjective unless he had some objective knowledge of it? In truth, the total relativist must stand on the pinnacle of his own absolutism in order to relativize everything else. The claim that all history is subjective turns out to be an objective claim about history. Total historical relativism cuts its own throat.
Ironically, one of history’s most noted relativists later gave one of the best critiques of it. Charles Beard (1874–1948) wrote,
Contemporary criticism shows that the apostle of relativity is destined to be destroyed by the child of his own brain. [For] if all historical conceptions are merely relative to passing events … then the conception of relativity is itself relative.… [In short,] the apostle of relativity will surely be executed by his own logic. (In Meyerhoff, ed., PH, 138, emphasis added.)
Of course, some might claim that historical knowledge is not totally but only partially relative. To this, objectivists note two things. First, it is an admission that history, at least some history, is objectively knowable, and thus it cannot claim to have eliminated in principle the possibility that the Christian claims are historically knowable.
Second, since the historical evidence for the central truths of Christianity is more amply supported by historical evidence than for almost any other event from the ancient world, it is also clear that a partial relativity view does not eliminate the historical verifiability of Christianity. In brief, total historical relativism is self-defeating, and partial historical relativism admits historically verifiable truths.
Historical Relativists Attempt Objective History Themselves
Another inconsistency in historical relativism is that the heralders of this view sometimes attempt to write objective history themselves. For example, while Beard was the apostle of historical relativism, he nevertheless attempted to write his own “scientific work” on the “essence of history” (see Meyerhoff, PH, 200–01). Beard believed his own understanding of the Constitution “was objective and factual” (ibid., 190–96; 200–01).
Ability to Recognize Bad History Implies Objective Knowledge
Another overlooked point is that the ability to detect bad history is itself a tacit admission that objectivity is possible. Ernest Nagel (1901–1985) pointed out that “the very fact that biased thinking may be detected and its sources investigated shows that the case of objective explanations in history is not necessarily hopeless” (in Meyerhoff, ibid., 213). In other words, the very fact that one can know that some histories are better than others reveals that there must be some objective understanding of the events by which this judgment is made.
Historians Employ Normal Objective Standards
Like science, history employs normal inductive measures that render the facts knowable. As W. H. Walsh observed, “Historical conclusions must be backed by evidence just as scientific conclusions must” (in Gardiner, TH, 301). Thus, Beard adds, “The historian … sees the doctrine of relativity crumble in the cold light of historical knowledge” (in Meyerhoff, PH, 148). Even Karl Manheim, whom Patrick Gardiner called “the most forthright proponent of historical relativism in recent times,” observes, “The presence of subjective concerns does not imply renunciation of the postulate of objectivity and the possibility of arriving at decisions in factual disputes” (see Habermas, “PHHRHE” in Bauman, EA, 105).
SOME GENERAL REMARKS CONCERNING THE OBJECTIVITY OF HISTORY
There are several general conclusions to be drawn from the foregoing analysis of the subjectivity/objectivity controversy. First, absolute objectivity is possible only for an infinite Mind. Finite minds must be content with systematic consistency, that is, fair but revisable attempts to reconstruct the past based on an established framework of reference that comprehensively and consistently incorporates all the facts into the overall sketch provided by the worldview. Of course, if there is good reason to believe this infinite Mind exists (and there is—see chapter 2), and if this infinite Mind (God) has revealed Himself (see chapter 4), then an interpretation of history from an absolute perspective is available (see part 2) in His Word (the Bible).
Second, even without this absolute perspective, an adequately objective, finite interpretation of history is possible, for, as was shown above, the historian can be as objective as the scientist. Neither geologists nor historians have direct access to complete data on repeatable events. Further, both must use value judgments in selecting and structuring the partial material available to them.
Third, in reality, neither the scientist nor the historian can attain objective meaning without the use of some worldview by which he understands the facts. Bare facts cannot even be known apart from some interpretive framework; hence, the need for structure or a meaning-framework is crucial to the question of objectivity. Unless one can settle the question as to whether this is a theistic or non-theistic world on grounds independent of the mere facts themselves, there is no way to determine the objective meaning of history. If, on the other hand, there are good reasons to believe that this is a theistic universe, then objectivity in history is a possibility, for Once the overall viewpoint is established, it is simply a matter of finding the view of history that is most consistent with that overall system. That is, systematic consistency is the test for objectivity in matters historical as well as scientific.
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION
Some historians contend that there is no objective basis for determining the past, and that even if there were an objective basis, miracles are not a part of objective history. These arguments, however, fail. History can be as objective as science. Once again, the geologist likewise has only secondhand, fragmentary, and unrepeatable evidence viewed from his own vantage point and in terms of his own values and interpretive framework. Although it is true that interpretive frameworks are necessary for objectivity, it is not true that every worldview must be totally relative and subjective. Indeed, this argument is self-defeating, for it assumes that it is an objective statement about history that all statements about history are necessarily not objective.
As to the objection that miracle-history is not objectively verifiable, two points are important. First, miracles can occur in the historical process without being of that natural process (see chapter 3). Second, the moral and theological dimensions of miracles are not totally subjective. They call for a subjective response, but there are objective standards of truth and goodness (in accordance with the theistic God) by which the miracle can be objectively assessed. It can be concluded, then, that the door for the objectivity of history and thus the objective historicity for miracles is open. No mere question-begging uniformitarian principle of analogy can slam the door a priori. Evidence that supports the general nature of scientific law may not be legitimately used to rule out good historical evidence for unusual but particular events of history. This kind of argument is not only invincibly naturalistic in its bias but if applied consistently it would rule out much of known and accepted secular history. The only truly honest approach is to examine carefully the evidence for an alleged event in order to determine its authenticity (see part 2, chapter 26).
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1 Much of the discussion here follows an excellent summary found in an unpublished master’s thesis by William L. Craig, The Nature of History (Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, Deerfield, III., 1976).
2 Theodicy is “vindication of the justice of God, especially in ordaining or permitting natural or moral evil” (Webster’s Third New International Dictionary).
3 To be more accurate, a historical presentation does not have to be either totally comprehensive or unrevisable. One can always learn more and improve a limited but accurate account.
4 See A. N. Sherwin-White, Roman Society and Roman Law in the New Testament and Michael Grant, Jesus: An Historian’s Review of the Gospels.
5 Our objections here are based largely on those given by Gary Habermas, “Why I Believe the New Testament Is Historically Reliable” in Norman Geisler, ed., Why I Am a Christian, 155–56.
6 Plutarch, The Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans in Great Books of the Western World, Robert Maynard, ed., 541–76.
Geisler, N. L. 2002. Systematic theology, volume one: Introduction, Bible (181). Bethany House Publishers: Minneapolis, MN
