Why History
This is not the first or the last time I’ll be discussing this, since it’s such a central theme of my work. History, unfortunately, doesn’t play out like a feel-good movie. Open the pages of any history book, and it won’t be long until you are faced with some highly uncomfortable facts. If you are looking for fairness, you might as well look elsewhere. Tragedies happen all the time. Innocent people suffer in the most atrocious of ways. There seems to be no karmic justice at play—no divine hand coming out of the sky to punish the wicked and save sweet folks from terrible destinies. Much of history is a tale of psychologically-scarred people doing horrible things to other psychologically-scarred people.
Part of the problem, of course, revolves around what kind of events capture the attention of historians. Pleasant and normal day-to-day life doesn’t make the news, and neither does it end up in the pages of history books. Usually, history focuses on power struggles and climactic moments such as wars and plagues. The big names of history are often power-hungry psychopaths overcompensating for something and making millions miserable in the process. The majority of people whose names are remembered in history books is heavily skewed toward narcissists and generally awful people.
But before we give in to cynicism and believe that all of humanity is made up of these monsters, it's good to remember the stuff that often doesn't make the history books. What that stuff is... it's perfectly captured in this scene from The Hobbit: "Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love." This is a useful reminder because rarely ‘small acts of kindness and love’ show up in the historical record.
If I look at my body of work with History on Fire, I see gut-wrenching episodes such as the one about Wounded Knee, and so many others that revolve around heartbreaking events. And the stuff I’m researching now (El Salvador in the 1970s and 1980s) makes my typical episodes feel like a Disney movie by comparison.
All of this forces me to ask myself some questions about the nature of what I do. Why study history in the first place? Why do I do this to myself? Why have I read in my life tens of thousands of pages about horrendously depressing events? Why stare directly into stories where brutality and evil abound?
And then I remember...
...in some ways I feel like the job a storyteller is to stare into the darkness, to confront the ugliest forces within the human soul, and then find a way to shine a light reminding us of all that is beautiful and heroic within us. For a storyteller to be entertaining is a nice side benefit, but it's not what it's all about. Not for me--at least. Every great story--every time someone does something brave or kind in the face of overwhelming evil--is a fire keeping the darkness at bay. And while it is true that the context of what I research can be emotionally overwhelming, ultimately I’m trying to tell the tales of individuals like Silas Soule, Oscar Romero, Dewey Beard, and many others who, through their actions, teach us about what it means to be a hero living through dark times.
Based on your work, I read the book, Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown. Actually, it was an audiobook. Well read. And so powerful, that I listened to it the second time immediately after. I learned so much from that book and was stunned at the brutality. And also reminded that such similar dynamics have always been happening. Please keep doing what you’re doing.
I’ve lived in Colorado my whole life, and live in Denver now. My son is in part Native American, and we live near the intersection of Downing and Evans. My college dorm was formerly named after colonel Chivington. My Dad worked at a ranch not far from the Sand Creek site. I know the significance of these men in Sand Creek and the nature of their character. I’m often reminded frequently of our history, the men that made it, and their impact.
And yet, I frequently ride my bike by Silas Soule’s grave. I know the marker in town erected on the site of his assassination. I know the stand he took and its consequences. Thank you for mentioning Cpt Soule, and telling his story as well.