Why we must learn from history

“I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past.”

—Thomas Jefferson

 

By Alex P. Vidal

 

ALMOST all political and social scientists have said this lengthily in classrooms and public discussions.

The hypothesis of Spanish-American philosopher George Santayana (1863-1952) that “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” has lost all its depth in becoming a cliché.

Usually heard in the form “Those who do not remember the past…,” it has been reduced to advice on a proper curriculum.

“Learn your history, boys and girls, or the next time (insert atrocity here) comes along, you won’t remember what happened the first time,” Michael Macrone wrote.

Not that this is false; it’s just not what Santayana meant. According to Macrone, Santayana chose the word cannot for a reason—namely, because he meant “are literally unable to.”

Such is the fate of infants and “savages,” for whom every day dawns anew, the experiences and lessons of yesterday having been forgotten.

It is not that such people (one could argue with the term “savages”) choose to be ignorant; it’s that they are incapable of historical thought.

In this condition of forgetfulness, a person is unable to make any informed decisions or to advance himself.

He will simply continue to act according to instinct and reflex, which are by their nature repetitive.

Every day is more or less the same day, which is what Santayana means by “repeating the past.”

 

LARGER

 

Santayana’s larger point is that progress requires a certain stability and “retentiveness” in individuals and societies.

This is the basis for human evolution, which is modeled on Charles Darwin’s evolution of species: Educated behavior, based on experience, is more likely to succeed in the face of changing conditions.

Thus is, we will get better and better at dealing with the ever-changing world if we are both “retentive” and “flexible”: conscious of the past and yet adaptable.

The larger context for Santayana’s speculations is his “naturalism,” better known as “materialism.” Man, in his view, is wholly and completely the product of nature; and the mind is nothing more than the natural activity of the brain.

Given the nature is constantly in flux, so too is what we call “human nature.”

The beliefs, values, thought processes, instincts, and desires of the ancient Greeks are very different from those of medieval Europeans or contemporary Africans.

There is no such thing, therefore, as a “universal law,” if by thatwe mean rules applicable across time and space.

Yet at the same time, in any particular time and place, men and women do share beliefs, values, thought-processes, and the rest.

Otherwise there could be no communication at all. And such a particular human nature has a potential “ideal state,” in which it is everything it can be: ideally suited, within its limits, to the time and the conditions.

 

IDEAL

 

Each individual has his or her own ideal, which has nothing to do with what the majority of people think, feel, or do.

In fact, Santayana believed deeply that people are unequally graced with reason and talents.

It might just be the ideal of some to work on assembly lines, while it is the ideal of others to run the state. He was not, therefore, an enthusiast of democracy.

In his view Nature herself is undemocratic; some species die off while others flourish and evolve, and this is because some species are superior to others.

In men and women, sharpness of reason and remembrance of the past are suited to progress and self-realization, to achieving one’s ideal.