The Retort of the Historians

"News reporters demand novelty, historians demand completeness," say Yan Hsin-heng, a professor of history and former dean of the College of Communication at National Chengchih University, summing up the reason why historians prefer to watch the current fashion for biographies from the sidelines: "Most historians would not write a biography of someone still living. One cannot judge a person's historical importance until after the lid is on his coffin."

"Its just like looking at a painting before its finished. How can you judge its characteristics and quality?" says Chengchih University history professor Wang Shou-nan. Who, for example, would have thought that Wang Ching-wei, who risked all to stab a member of the Ching imperial family with a triumphant cry of "I'll be happy to die by your swords!" would one day take refuge in the patronage of Japanese political power? This is why historians are never in any hurry, and will often patiently wait 20 or 30 years before committing themselves to paper.

Historians do not only apply such caution to the living. Where those not long dead are concerned, they will also fear that "hasty conclusions are of little value."

"Even though a person may be dead, if his followers, children and family are still alive, one may still not be able to write as frankly as one would wish, and this goes against the historian's highest principle of 'seeking truth,'" remarks Wang Shou-nan.

Many years ago, in an academic article, one historian made a reference to Chen Chiung-min, a figure from the early years of the Republic, which aroused vehement protests from Chen's family, ending in a libel action. So evidently there is some justification in such fears.

This desire for completeness, truth and comprehensive evidence is the reason why apart from direct and immediately available materials such as oral histories, personal interviews and the like, historians are particularly fond of all kinds of written materials such as files, personal letters, private diaries and so on. Such materials are not easy to obtain while the person in question is still alive, and for objectivity's sake it is best to avoid them being sifted by the subject himself.

Yen Hsin-heng points out that in advanced democratic countries such as Britain or the USA, important records such as State Department and ministerial files are released for academic research at regular intervals once events have moved on and the need for confidentiality has passed. Each batch of files usually contains treasures for which scholars have waited expectantly for a decade or more, and it is not until they see the light of day that many historical mysteries can be solved and secret personal details revealed.

As for the current fashion for biographies of contemporary political figures, historians view this as "front line" work in the writing of history, by which the opinions of contemporary persons are first recorded; but defining each person's place in the rolling tide of history is something that must wait many decades or even centuries, until historians can make judgements on the basis of more comprehensive investigation and more stringent proof.

History is made by the passage of time, and so in the eyes of historians, only those things which have been filtered and selected by time are worth handing down to posterity. If you try to write history in your own age, people and events are still in flux, and it is not easy to pin them down or make predictions; friendships and one's vested interests in relations with others also make a mockery of attempts to "write neutrally and without emotional coloring." But when personalities are flashing across the stage, praised by critics and applauded by the audience, who worries about their eternal historical value?

"Real historians have always been a lonely breed," observes Wang Shou-nan. Compared with the raucous fashion for biographies, doesn't the historians' lonely, cool and distant approach provoke one to even deeper thought?