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BOOK REVIEW - RECENSION DE LIVRE
JACK GOODY, The Theft of History. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2006, 342 p., index.
Reviewed by
Robert M. Pike, Queen’s
University
The “theft of history” in this
book’s title refers to the appropriation of history by the west. The past, Goody
argues, has been conceptualized largely within the framework of western Europe,
and then imposed on the rest of the world. Goody is an eminent and venerable
British anthropologist, knighted for his scholarly work, and perhaps best known
for his studies on the cultural context of writing and literacy. Here, however,
he focuses on the presentism and Eurocentrism of western historians. Thus the
relatively recent leap of western European countries to world dominance is seen
to have underpinnings which reside in the historical depths of western social
structures and institutions. For example, some historians, Goody notes, would
argue that particular features of Roman agricultural estates, western feudalism,
and religion (vide Weber’s “Protestant Ethic”) created just the right
structural basis for the creation of capitalist enterprises which formed the
underpinnings of later western industrial and political dominance. Not only
that, but such institutions as western European towns and universities are seen
to have been uniquely supportive of the values of “progress,” individualism,
humanism, and democracy. Much of The Theft of History refutes this line
of argument.
The book is divided into three parts. The first consists of
four chapters that expand on issues surrounding antiquity, feudalism and
oriental despotism. Part two examines the intellectual perspectives of three
influential sociologists and historians whose writings Goody holds, in varying
degrees, to be Eurocentric. The third part looks at “three institutions and
values,” namely, the claim to the uniqueness of European towns and universities;
what Goody calls “stolen love” – European claims to the emotions; and also the
set of values noted in the previous paragraph.
A brief commentary on the first part must suffice here. Goody
is correct when he notes that many western historians and sociologists have been
blinkered by their Greco-Roman heritage. For example, what do we know of the
Carthaginian Empire which may have been the originator of our form of alphabet?
The Romans destroyed it, and like the Persians and Parthians, it became just
another “oriental despotism” of the type both Marx and Weber were keen on
articulating, and which Goody notes as being a short-hand excuse for ignorance.
Likewise, he argues forcibly against the view that European feudalism contained
within itself the peculiar roots of later economic advance: “part of a unique
causal chain leading to western capitalism. Everything beyond, in Marx’s phrase,
was ‘Asiatic exceptionalism’” (83). As to “oriental despotism,” Goody looks at
the history of the Ottoman Empire and finds a society which, in contrast to the
nineteenth-century view of the “sick man of Europe,” was far from being static.
Goody even argues that the Ottoman Empire’s long refusal of the printing press
was an outcome of religious beliefs, not an overall unwillingness to change.
Furthermore, he believes that until the rise of the printing press, the Islamic
world held a distinct advantage in the production of knowledge. There is no
suggestion here, of course, that the Ottoman Empire did not later become a
shadow of its former self, although this reviewer’s own work incorporates
research on the efforts of late-nineteenth-century Turkish “modernizers” to
combat the country’s decline (Dwayne Winseck and Robert Pike, Communication
and Empire: Media, Markets and Globalization, 1860-1930. Durham: Duke
University Press, 2007).
Various historically-minded scholars are criticized in the
first part of Goody’s book, particularly M. I. Finley who wrote a series of
studies on ancient European history, and one on ancient and modern democracy, in
the 1970s and 1980s. However, three eminent scholars are specifically singled
out for analysis and criticism. The first, Joseph Needham, is best known for his
“magisterial series” of volumes on Science and Civilization in China in
which he showed that “Chinese science had been equal, if not superior, to that
of the west until the sixteenth century” (125). The second is the German-born
historical sociologist Norbert Elias, who “looked at The Civilizing Process
which he saw as achieving its zenith in Europe following the Renaissance”
(ibid). The third is the great French historian Fernand Braudel “who in his
three volume work Civilization and Capitalism, 15th-18th
Century discussed various forms of capitalism in different parts of the
world, but concluded “true capitalism was a purely European development” (ibid).
Goody takes on the task of showing that their arguments are flawed either
because they take the comparative advantage gained by Europe following the
Industrial Revolution “back to a distant past, or also privilege later Europe in
a questionable way, so that they distort world history rather than illuminate
it” (ibid). However, a footnote attached to this accusation of distortion gives
Goody some wriggle room: “Of course, [the three distort] only in certain ways; I
am in complete agreement with most of their writings” (ibid).
Goody needs the room, especially in the cases of Needham and
Braudel, because he recognizes that he is dealing with outstanding scholars.
Thus he insists that he in “no way wants to undermine the enormous advances that
the former made in our understanding of Chinese scientific achievements” (153).
Braudel, in turn, is described as “brilliant” and “a historian of the very first
rank” (184). Yet, we are offered a plethora of criticisms of the assumptions and
conclusions of both scholars which mix serious attacks on their views of the
rise of western commerce and capitalism with some rather marginal quibbles: for
example, attacking Braudel for suggesting that the west “discovered” alcohol,
tea, coffee and chocolate. Then there is Norbert Elias whose work, Goody notes,
some may consider passé, but which, he suggests, still has a major
European following. Elias’s work focussed mainly on the progressive unfolding of
modes of behaviour that he considered typical of the development of “western
civilized man” – the notion of civilization linked to cleanliness, good manners
and savoir-faire. That he saw an unfolding of “civility” in this area in western
nations, and apparently ignored other cultures, in Goody’s view clearly opens
him to criticism on the grounds of Eurocentrism and, likely, bad history.
Elias had to flee his native Germany during the Nazi regime.
Yet Goody notes “today’s violence in family and street is not a mirage and it is
difficult to reconcile Elias’s Whiggish approach…with the fact that at the time
he was writing Nazis were murdering Jews throughout Europe, clicking their heels
with handkerchiefs stuffed in their pockets and blowing their noses in a refined
way” (165). But if Elias is so easy to criticize, and so patently lacking a
non-European perspective, why bother with him? Goody apparently met Elias whilst
both were working in Ghana in the early 1960’s. The book contains a footnote in
which Goody outlines very negatively his impression of Elias’s cavalier approach
to fieldwork – driving out to a village with chauffeur and students – and of his
casual collecting of African art (178). The footnote is intended to underline
Elias’s Eurocentric blinkers, but it is rather picayune.
Turning finally to the third part of The Theft of History,
one confronts a complex series of arguments against the historical perspective
that early western European towns and universities had particular features that
stimulated the growth of learning and commerce. With regard to the universities,
Goody is confronting the argument that higher learning in the Islamic world
became dominated by religion whereas incorporated western universities were
able, at an early date, to carve out some secular territory. His point is that
religion did (and does) dominate the madrassas in Islamic countries, but that
humanistic, medical, and scientific learning found a place elsewhere in their
respective societies. Yet, Goody recognizes that Islam’s long-standing rejection
of the printing press on the grounds that the prophet’s word could not be
produced by mechanical means laid a heavy hand on the prospect for educational
reform – indeed on any of the profound socio-cultural changes that the printing
press wrought in western countries. Clearly, therefore – though Goody does not
say much about this – state or religious practices in Middle-Eastern and Asian
countries during the time of the European Renaissance, may have established
circumstances which ultimately proved quite detrimental not only to educational
advance but to the stimulus of domestic economies. For example, China’s swift
movement into the western ceramics business in the eighteenth century shows an
evident entrepreneurial spirit – no one could doubt it – but the growing
isolation of the country from outside influences was earlier typified in the
recall and destruction of the huge Great Fleet during its final expedition
westwards in 1433 – an act which profoundly effected the history of both China
and, likely, the world. Western Europe offers no such historical parallel,
although certainly plenty of examples of disastrous economic policies. In a
sense, China, and likewise Japan, isolated themselves because they could do so.
By contrast, European rulers of, say, the early Renaissance period lived cheek
by jowl, competing and cooperating, trying to gain advantage. Isolation was out
of the question.
The remainder of part three, devoted mainly to “romantic
love” and western appropriation of values, can only be superficially reviewed.
The chapter on the former, based on earlier work, is intended to counter
historians’ claims that romantic love, linked to such values as individualism
and indirectly to the role of the conjugal family in the rise of capitalism,
originated with the troubadour society of twelfth-century Europe. Whilst there
are some historians who have taken this line, the argument for troubadour
origins or specifically western roots is so patently false that – once again –
one wonders why it needs to be a theme for major criticism. Look at The Song
of Songs in the Old Testament, as indeed Goody notes, if one wants an
example of earlier romantic and raunchy love lyrics from outside of Europe.
The view that the Greeks, or rather Athens, created democracy
has always rather grated on me, when one recognizes that no women, slaves or
outsiders were included in Athenian democracy; and also that the Greek city
states contained some regimes, Sparta as a case in point, which would have made
George Orwell cringe. In contemporary international affairs too, Goody is
anxious to point out that democracy and rhetoric go hand in hand. So, he notes,
Israel is touted as the Middle-East’s only democracy whilst maintaining a huge
army, restricting the rights of Palestinians, and having engaged in a series of
atrocities. On the other hand, the Palestinians and neighbouring Arabs are
defined as corrupt and never having known “true democracy.” But at this point
Goody has entered the foreign affairs debate, and its link to the comparative
historical framework of the book is tenuous.
In his concluding chapter, Goody observes “in recent years,
scholars have…taken steps to make their steps more comparative, more relevant to
the rest of the world. But these measures are grossly inadequate to the task”
(305). I do not have the historical expertise to judge this claim on scholarly
grounds per se, but it is striking that he criticizes Braudel for using
the term “junks” in reference to a 1419 Chinese westward ocean expedition, but
makes no direct reference either to the Great Fleet nor, more importantly, to
the growing body of western literature which is drawing increasing popular
attention to the sheer scale, and technological superiority, of that fleet and
its ships. The contemporary west had nothing to match them either in scale or
advanced technology. So the wheels of comparative history are turning, and
whilst I applaud any effort to make us more aware of the debt which is owed to
our non-European contacts, it is with regret that I suggest The Theft of
History may have less impact on this growing awareness than it should. One
is left with the impression that the editors of Cambridge University Press let
Goody’s scholarly reputation blunt their pens. Take these cases in point. Goody
does not actually negate Braudel’s suggestion that the chair may have been a
European invention, for the “sitting up” position was not found in non-European
societies (sic), but he simply states that “the statement seems dubious” (185).
This despite a fine example of a high-backed chair being found in the tomb of
Tutankhamen! In another spot, Goody talks about Italy developing as a commercial
centre only after the Crusades of the fourteenth century (206). Even taking into
account the large number of Crusades, they ended in the Middle-East in the
thirteenth century. These examples may seem trivial, but they look like a case
of too much haste. Added to this, the book is stylistically a tough read. Jack
Goody has done so much better.
Robert M. Pike, Queen’s University
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