The Theft of History (review)

There is something unsettling about this book. The author is famous; the analysis is cogent and stimulating. But the general thrust of the book is unsatisfying. The disappointing result stems from the work’s carping and overly critical character. The book is savage in its criticism of numerous European scholars. Only V. Gordon Childe (not a historian) wins Goody’s wholehearted approval. He set Western scholarship on the right path with his book, What Happened in History (New York, 1942), only to have his broad Eurasian-wide perspectives hijacked by powerful Eurocentric historians of antiquity (Finley, among others), Chinese science (Needham), the world of the Mediterranean and capitalism (Braudel), and the emotions and the civilizing process (Elias).¹

Goody’s argument is important, though by now more widely accepted by the historical profession than the author allows. He claims that Western scholars have had an irresistible tendency to see the European experience as exceptional and superior, the model by which all other cultures should be measured. In his view, Europeanists assert a unique genealogy for Europe, alone inheritors of the legacy of the ancient Greeks and Romans, and of a profoundly influential and singular feudal past, all of which led to European capitalism; science; the Enlightenment; the nation-state; and European world political, economic, and cultural dominance. The author demonstrates conclusively, if tediously in places, that many of the preeminent historians of the twentieth century find countless reasons to assert the uniqueness and superiority of the European experience. What these authors failed to recognize, in Goody’s opinion, is how similar the Asian experiences of science, capitalism, and notions of civilized behavior were to those that Europe had. Indeed, in his view, most Europeanists overlook that in some instances, Europe borrowed shamelessly from Asia. For Goody, scholars need to set the history of Europe in its proper Eurasian framework, much as Childe did in his study of ancient civilizations. Eurasia is, in fact, Goody’s favored politico-cultural-geographical and analytical term.

Methinks, however, that the gentleman doth protest too much. Elias’ The Civilizing Process appeared in 1939. Braudel’s major works on the Mediterranean and capitalism came out in French just after World War II, and most of Needham’s work on Chinese science took place in the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s. His 1994 essay, “Conclusions and Reflections,” reflects his lifetime of work on China and attempts to answer the question why Europe, not China, had a scientific revolution, but the work is far stronger on China than on Europe. Lots of water has poured under the historical bridge since these books appeared. Many of the textbooks in European history today try to guard against Eurocentrism; many books in world history actually subvert Eurocentrism.

Thirty years ago Edward Said attacked the field of Orientalism in his controversial and path-breaking book, Orientalism (New York, 1978). Goody seems to want to do the same for the historical profession in this study. But thirty years is a long period in historical writing; what seemed fresh and exciting in the late 1970s now seems well known, even passé.

Goody’s charge that Western historians have stolen many of Asia’s historical achievements should not be taken lightly. It is, therefore, disappointing to find Goody guilty of the same offense. He promotes Eurasia as his new analytical unit. But what about Africa? Even according to his own evidence, parts of Africa, notably Egypt and North Africa, have significant historical roles to play. So why does he not employ the term Afro-Eurasia or at least Eurasia and North Africa. For a man so sensitive to ignoring the contributions of others to world history, this seems a significant oversight.