Reflections on “Where Do We Stand?”

Historians face few tasks tougher than trying to write a historiographical essay. Ironically, it may be one of those assignments best left to young scholars, because they have not yet had their intellectual confidence shaken by the realization of how little they really know. Most academic readers, however, prefer to read the literary opinions of more senior scholars, trusting that their years of study will lead to more thoughtful reflections. But the process of maturation also brings with it other baggage, such as an understanding of how much harm academic faddism has done and will do. In the rush to appear high-minded, academics are as much slaves to fashion as the average teenager. It is enough to frustrate even the best scholars and to lead them astray when they are asked to produce essays that encapsulate and analyze their work and that of their peers. They take deep breaths, sharpen their metaphorical quills, and have at it. The result can be disappointing to those who seek sage counsel on good scholarship and infuriating to those who take their intellectual fashions far too seriously.

Early in his essay, Earl Hess declares that his concern is with the “role of traditional military history in Civil War studies.”¹ Therein may lie a problem: in Hess’s efforts to address the larger problem of traditional military history disappearing from higher education institutions, he may have lost his secondary battle to advocate some sort of a balance among the three categories—traditional military history, new military history, and war studies—he uses to define modern approaches to the study of the Civil War. These categories are very useful (after all, you have to find some handle for all of this), and certainly there is some concern about the acceptance of traditional military history, but much of Hess’s essay is a discussion of recent Civil War historiography that provides his readers with very few indicators of what the military historians, in any category, have gotten “right” in the field. And that is a great lost opportunity, given his obvious desire to see that all three of his categories are well served. In fact, as his quantitative evidence reveals, if anyone should be concerned, it is the purveyors of the new military history, not those in the other two categories. But Hess does not make clear the implications of this finding.

So what to do? The strength of the article lies in its quantitative material, and it can be used to provide an intriguing perspective on the “state of the field.” When Hess veers into broad general statements that are not entirely supported by his evidence, such as his statements on hiring committees, book review editors, and academic conferences, then the value of his quantified, categorical approach is lost. Putting aside unsubstantiated generalizations and replacing them with examples of works and historians who best demonstrate specifically what good traditional military history is, and what it can contribute, will underscore more effectively his assertions on the value of that category and the tragedy of its apparent decline in the field of Civil War studies. Coupling that with the same level of inclusion and analysis for the other two categories would produce a strong argument for balance. Surely there are some Civil War historians striving to do just that.