Wesleyan University, Wiley History and Theory

Wesleyan University
Objectivity in History
Author(s): Mark Bevir
Source: History and Theory, Vol. 33, No. 3 (Oct., 1994), pp. 328-344
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OBJECTIVITY IN HISTORY
MARK BEVIR
ABSTRACT
Many philosophers have rejected the possibility of objective historical knowledge on

the grounds that there is no given past against which to judge rival interpretations.
Their reasons for doing so are valid. But this does not demonstrate that we must give
up the concept of historical objectivity as such. The purpose of this paper is to define
a concept of objectivity based on criteria of comparison, not on a given past. Objective
interpretations are those which best meet rational criteria of accuracy, comprehensive-
ness, consistency, progressiveness, fruitfulness, and openness. Finally, the nature of
our being in the world is shown to give us a good reason to regard such objective
interpretations as moving towards truth understood as a regulative ideal.
I. INTRODUCTION
There are all sorts of reasons for rejecting the possibility of objective knowledge
of the past. But one reason has become particularly prominent in the latter
half of the twentieth century. In general terms, the argument is that we cannot
have objective historical knowledge because we do not have access to a given
past against which to judge rival interpretations. Hermeneutic theorists some-
times make this point by stressing the historicity of our understanding. We
cannot have access to a given past because any understanding we develop of
the past necessarily will be infused by prejudices arising from our particular
historical situation. For example, Hans-Georg Gadamer has argued that "there
is no understanding or interpretation in which the totality of this existential
structure [the historicity of being] does not function, even if the intention of
the knower is simply to read 'what is there' and to discover from his sources
'how it was'."' Genealogists make a similar point by pointing to the role of
discourses and regimes of power in producing all knowledge. We cannot have
access to a given past because the past is constructed by discourses which are
themselves the effects of power. For example, Michel Foucault has argued that
the ideal of history offering a true reconstruction of the past must give way to
a history of the present offering a perspective on the past designed to challenge
contemporary systems of power/knowledge.2 Finally, deconstructionists make
1. H-G. Gadamer, Truth and Method, transl. W. Glen-Doepel (London, 1979), 232.
2. See, in particular, M. Foucault, "Nietzsche, Genealogy, History," in Language, Counter-
Memory, Practice: Selected Essays and Interviews, transl. D. Bouchard and S. Sherry, ed. with
intro. D. Bouchard (Oxford, 1977).
OBJECTIVITY IN HISTORY 329
much the same point by arguing that nothing can be straightforwardly present
as a given truth. We cannot have access to a given past because the objects of
the past, like all other objects, do not have stable meanings or identities. For
example, Jacques Derrida has suggested that all discourse includes a "trace (of
that) which can never be presented," so any attempt to pin down the nature
of an object will exhibit a logic of supplementarity with the language of the
account of the object referring to something ostensibly excluded from the ac-
count of the object.3 All these are instances of rejecting historical objectivity
on the grounds that we do not have access to a given past against which to
judge rival interpretations. They reject the possibility of access to a given past
for rather different reasons -the historicity of our being, the influence of power
on discourse, the absence of any stable meanings-but they all agree that we
cannot grasp the past as a presence, and that this threatens the very possibility
of objective historical knowledge.
In what follows, I will offer an account of historical objectivity which relies
on criteria of comparison, not on our having access to a given past. I will do
so because if historical objectivity does not depend on our having access to a
given past, then to deny that we have access to a given past is not to show the
impossibility of historical objectivity. In short, I want to argue that even though
we cannot grasp historical facts as immediately present truths, we can have
objective knowledge of the past that is neither relativistic nor irrational. In
doing so, I will not offer a direct critique of Gadamer, Foucault, and Derrida;
after all, they all could accept the possibility of historical objectivity as I define
it, limiting their critique to concepts of objectivity which rely on access to a
given past. Nonetheless, I will offer an indirect critique of their positions; there
are times when they seem to oppose historical objectivity as such, and the
general orientation of their ideas often suggests they would not want to accept
any concept of objectivity (this is particularly true of the antirationalism of
Foucault and Derrida).
I will begin by considering why we cannot have access to a given past. Here
I will show that even though we cannot have access to any given truths, historical
knowledge is not especially underprivileged at least in this respect. Next, in the
bulk of the essay, I will construct a general account of objective knowledge in
terms of criteria of comparison, and show how this account applies to history
as exemplified by discussions of Locke's views on property. Finally, I will defend
this account against the charge of out-and-out relativism.
II. A CRITIQUE OF EMPIRICISM4
Empiricists argue that historians can justify their interpretations using a logic
of either vindication or refutation. Logics of vindication tell us how to determine
3. J. Derrida, "Differance," in Margins of Philosophy, transl. A. Bass (Chicago, 1982), 23.

4. Empiricism is a disputed term. In what follows, I use the concept in a narrow sense, the
content of which is indicated by the ensuing account of verificationism and falsificationism. There
are broader senses of empiricism, some of which might entail the annexation of my account of
objectivity as itself empiricist. The difference seems to me to depend largely on whether one adopts
330 MARK BEVIR
whether a given historical analysis is or is not true, while logics of refutation

tell us how to determine whether a given historical analysis is or is not false.
Verificationists defend the ideal of vindication, arguing that we can decode all
reasonable interpretations into a series of observational statements, and we can
see whether or not these observational statements are true because they refer
to pure perceptions.5 An interpretation is true if it consists of observational
statements which are true, or, as probabilists argue, it is more or less probably
true according to the nature and number of observational statements in accord
with it. In contrast, falsificationists deny that any number of positive observa-
tions can prove an interpretation to be true.6 Thus, they defend the ideal of
refutation, arguing that the objective status of interpretations derives from our
failure to make observations showing them to be false.
We need not worry ourselves too much with the differences between verifica-
tionists and falsificationists which derive from their respective stance towards
the Humean problem of induction. What interests us is common to them both.
They both ground objectivity in straightforward confrontations with a given
past. All logics of vindication and refutation believe that ultimately we can
confront interpretations with the facts in a test proving them to be either true
or false (in the case of verificationism), or not-false or false (in the case of
falsificationism).
So verificationism and falsificationism rely on the idea of a given past. If we
are to determine conclusively the truth or falsity of interpretations, we must
be able to compare them with a given past, so we must have access to the facts
of the matter. Here empiricists guarantee our knowledge of basic facts by
arguing that we have pure experiences of the external world; our perceptions
are of the world as it is; the process of experience does not affect the way
we perceive the world. Certainly, empiricists disagree about whether the pure
experiences which decide issues of truth are the particular experiences of individ-
uals or the intersubjective experiences of a community, but whatever view they
take, they defend some sort of pure experience as the grounds of their logics
of vindication or refutation.
I think that Gadamer, Foucault, and Derrida are right to reject the idea of
a given past. They are right for the very general reason that we do not have
pure experiences. The nature of a perception depends on the perceiver. A sensa-
tion can become the object of a perception or an experience only when our
intelligence identifies it as a particular sensation both distinct from, and in a
relation to, other sensations. We become aware of a sensation only when we
attend to it, and when we attend to a sensation we necessarily identify it, using
abstract categories, as a particular sort of sensation. Thus, perceptions always
a narrow account of empiricism defined against both realism and idealism or a broad account
defined against idealism alone.
5. For a subtle version of the probabilist variety of verificationism see R. Carnap, The Logical
Syntax of Language (London, 1937).
6. For a subtle version of falsificationism see K. Popper, The Logic of Scientific Discovery
(New York, 1959).
incorporate theoretical understanding. Our everyday accounts of our experi-

ences reflect numerous realist assumptions, including that objects exist indepen-
dently of our perceiving them; objects persist through time; other people can
perceive the same objects we perceive; and objects sometimes act causally upon
one another. This does not mean that our categories determine what experiences
we have - objects do force sensations on us - but it does mean that our catego-
ries influence the way we experience the sensations we have. We make sense of
the sensations objects force on us using our categories. Because our experiences
embody theoretical assumptions, our experiences cannot be pure, and this means
that our experiences cannot provide unvarnished data for determining the truth
or falsity of our theories.
Empiricists might respond to this criticism by giving a phenomenological
account of pure experience. Here the ideal of pure experience would refer to
the content of our sensations without invoking realist assumptions about the
relationship of these sensations to an external reality. This response will not
do for two reasons. First, a purely phenomenological account of experience
cannot capture the actuality of experience: when we see an object falling, we
see an object falling; we cannot have a more fundamental experience, and we
cannot give a simpler description of the experience. If we could deprive people
of the theoretical assumptions entwined within their experience, we would be
left with people so disoriented, they would not be able to make coherent sense of
the world in the way they would have to if they were to describe their sensations.
Second, the very idea of phenomenological experience already presupposes a
background which includes realist theories. We cannot make sense of the idea
that we have sensations which do not embody realist assumptions except in
contrast to the idea that we have experiences embodying realist assumptions.
More generally, to identify experiences with pure sensations bereft of intelligent
resolution would be to identify experiences with things we cannot conceive of
precisely because they cannot be objects of experience. Thus, even a purely
phenomenological account of our experiences presupposes a prior realist ac-
count of the world.
Empiricism is false because experiencing is something done by individuals,
and all experiences embody the theoretical categories of the individuals having
the experiences. People make observations, and they do so in the light of their
current opinions. Moreover, any attempt to abstract the notion of sensation
from the experiences of individuals ends in the dismissal of the idea of sensation
because sensation always occurs within the context of the experiences of individ-
uals. The idea of experiences or sensations without prior theories is incompre-
hensible.
Because experience or observation entails theory, objectivity cannot rely on
a logic of vindication or refutation. If an observation disproved a favorite
theory, we could rescue the theory by insisting that the observation itself rested
on a false theory; and, if an observation proved a detested theory, we could
jettison the theory by insisting that the observation itself rested on a false theory.
332 MARK BEVIR
Thus, we cannot determine conclusively whether an individual theory is true

or false precisely because any such judgment must depend on various theoretical
assumptions embodied in our observations.
But the limits of testing need not especially worry historians. The argument
against empiricism is entirely general, applying to science as much as to history,
and historians certainly need not aim at more secure knowledge than do scien-
tists. What claim to objectivity do scientists make? Few scientists say they can
give us conclusive answers; their theories are always vulnerable to improvement,
revision, and rejection. What scientists do say is that their theories are the best
currently available. This suggests that objectivity rests not on conclusive tests
against a given past, but on a process of comparison between rival theories.7
III. OBJECTIVITY THROUGH COMPARISON
Because our critique of empiricism implies that historical interpretations always

might be mistaken, we must define an objective interpretation as one we accept
as correct on the basis of rationally justifiable criteria, not as one we are certain
is true. But this does not mean that we must reject the idea of objectivity.
Rather, an objective interpretation is one we select in a process of comparison
with other interpretations using rational criteria. Sometimes there might be no
way of deciding between two or more interpretations, but this will not always
be the case, and even when it is the case, we still will be able to decide between
these two or more interpretations and innumerable inferior interpretations.
A logic of comparison must refer to human practices. Empiricists defend a
foundationalism that tries to ground human knowledge in pure experience.
They argue that experience provides us with certainties: perhaps certainties
about what is so, perhaps certainties about what is not so, but definitely certain-
ties. Yet they are wrong. The infusion of theories in experiences means judg-
ments of truth always require something more than experience alone. What is
this something? Once we reject the possibility of pure experience, we must
allow for an irreducible subjectivity in the concept of judgment; we must allow
that our knowledge depends, in part, upon us since our observations do not
neutrally record reality, but rather make sense of reality through our under-
standing. In short, because experience contains human elements, knowledge
contains human elements, and because we cannot eradicate these human ele-
ments, objectivity must be in part a quality of human behavior, not just a
product of experience. Here objectivity represents a particular orientation to-
wards experience, a product of certain types of human activity. Objectivity
7. Something akin to my account of objectivity through comparison is adopted by every contrib-

utor to Scientific Revolutions, ed. I. Hacking (Oxford, 1981). While there are clear differences in
their positions, I have been influenced particularly by T. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolu-
tions (Chicago, 1970); I. Lakatos, "Falsification and the Methodology of Scientific Research Pro-
grammes," in Philosophical Writings, Vol. 1: The Methodology of Scientific-Research Programmes
(Cambridge, Eng., 1978); and L. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, transl. D. Paul and G. Anscombe
(Oxford, 1974).
depends on our making reasonable comparisons between rival theories where

comparison is a human activity. Thus, our account of justified knowledge must
end not with a growing history of information, or theories, or putative certain-
ties, but with a description of a particular attitude or stance towards such
information, or theories, or certainties. Our epistemology must be anthropo-
centric.
The apparent danger is that reducing objectivity to a function of human
practices leaves us with no control over the sorts of beliefs these practices can
define as objective. Once we introduce subjective elements into our epistemol-
ogy, we seem to threaten the very idea of rational or objective knowledge,
raising the specter of an out-and-out relativism in which anything goes. Thus,
our task is to define an anthropocentric epistemology incorporating rational
criteria for accepting or rejecting specific interpretations. I will start by defining
the human practice which provides the grounds of objectivity, and only after-
wards turn to the question of what grounds we can give the out-and-out relativist
for accepting the results of this practice.
Objectivity arises from criticizing and comparing rival webs of interpretations
in terms of agreed facts. What is the nature of an agreed fact? A fact is a piece
of evidence which nearly everyone in a given community would accept as true.
Let us consider both the reasons why we must so divorce facts from truth, and
the threat of idealism that arises from doing so. My definition of a fact follows
from a recognition of the role of theory in observation. Because theory enters
into observation, we cannot describe a fact as a statement of how things really
are. Observation and description entail categorization (so, for example, when
we see or describe a stone falling, we categorize the object doing the falling as
a stone). In addition, categorization entails decisions about what other instances
the thing being categorized resembles (so, for example, when we categorize a
falling object as a stone, we decide the object falling resembles other stones,
not, say, slates). Facts entail categorization. But because our categorizations
can be wrong, facts can differ from how things are, from truth.
However, the role of theories in observation does not mean that facts depend
solely on theories, as idealist epistemologies claim. We cannot describe a fact as
a theoretical deduction because observations enter into theories. Any theoretical
argument must rest on premises whose content comes from outside the theory
because such arguments employ terms which refer to states and events in the
world. Facts entail observations, and because observations stick to the world,
facts too must attach themselves to the world. In this way, we can fend off
idealism simply by insisting on an impersonal reality correspondence which
constitutes the truth.
A fact is a proposition members of a community accept as true. Facts typically
are observations embodying categories based on the recognition of similarities
and differences between particular cases. But not all observations embodying
categories will count as facts. For instance, if two backpackers catch a glimpse
of an animal they believe to be a wolf, they might say that they saw a wolf,
334 MARK BEVIR
but not go so far as to say that it is a fact they saw a wolf: their uncertainty
about their classification could hold them back. Observations embodying cate-
gories count as facts only if they are exemplary, that is, if we cannot reasonably
expect to have a better opportunity to judge the correctness of our classification.
For instance, if a couple of naturalists watch a wolf through binoculars for an
hour or so, they can say it is a fact they saw a wolf even though they thereby
make certain theoretical assumptions such as those concerning the working of
binoculars. A fact is an exemplary case of a classification. Thus, when we say
that such and such is a historical fact, we are not simply asserting such and
such, we also are asserting that such and such is either an exemplary case, or
a case that has been tested against exemplary cases.
Historical interpretations explain facts by postulating significant relation-
ships, connections, and similarities between them. They try to account for
the facts being as they are by bringing out relevant parallels, overlaps, and
distinctions. The important point is: a fact acquires a particular character as
a result of its relationship to other facts which provide it with a definite context.
Here interpretations reveal the particular character of facts by uncovering their
relationship to other facts, by presenting a fact in terms of other facts that
locate it in time and space, and suitably define the preconditions of its unfolding.
Of course, as interpretations reveal the particular character of a fact, they often
partially define the way we regard the fact. Interpretations do not just reveal
the character of facts, they also create the character of facts, and, what is more,
they guide our decisions as to what constitutes a fact. Because there are no
pure observations, facts do not hold out their particular characters to such
observations. Rather, we partly construct the particular characters of facts
through the interpretations which we incorporate in our observations. Thus,
we cannot say simply that such and such an interpretation either does or does
not fit the facts. Instead, we must compare bundles of interpretations in terms
of their success in relating innumerable facts to one another through highlighting
pertinent similarities and differences, continuities and disjunctions, and the like.
Objectivity arises from comparing and criticizing rival webs of interpretations
in terms of facts. The basis for such a comparison of rival views exists because
historians agree on a wide number of facts which collectively provide sufficient
overlap for them to debate the merits of their respective views. For instance,
even if Peter's view entails theoretical presuppositions with which Mary dis-
agrees, and even if Mary's view entails theoretical presuppositions with which
Peter disagrees, Peter and Mary still might agree on enough facts to make
debate worthwhile, and perhaps to enable them to reach a decision as to the
merits of their respective views. Because they agree on numerous facts, the
facts constitute an authority they can refer to in their attempts to justify their
views and compare their alternative interpretations.
But, someone might ask, if facts embody interpretations, do not interpreta-
tions end up determining the nature of the facts they explain, and if interpreta-
tions determine the nature of what they explain, how can we judge interpre-
tations by their success in explaining these things? The whole process seems
perilously circular. It is here that criticism plays a vital role. The existence of
criticism means no interpretation can determine which facts it will encounter.
The critics of a theory can point to facts the proponents of the theory have
not considered, and demand that the theory explain these facts. Critics can
highlight what they take to be counter-instances to an interpretation, and the
interpretation must meet these tests set by its critics. In this way, criticism gives
facts a relative autonomy which prevents the process of comparing interpreta-
tions in terms of facts from being purely circular.
Nonetheless, there remains the problem that appeals to the facts never can
be decisive. For instance, if Peter refers to a fact apparently supporting his
view and contradicting Mary's, Mary need not admit that Peter is right. Instead,
Mary could question the fact or introduce a speculative theory to reconcile the
fact with her original interpretation. It is at this point that we must take an
anthropological turn so as to ground objectivity in human practices and the
values they embody. When historians debate the merits of rival interpretations
they engage in a human practice which has a number of rules defining a standard
of intellectual honesty. These rules of debate are neither decisive nor indepen-
dent of us; they neither compel us to give up our interpretations in specifiable
situations, nor force us to comply with their vaguer strictures. Rather, they
represent a normative standard which exercises a control on our behavior be-
cause we recognize their reasonableness. Thus, objectivity is principally a product
of our intellectual honesty in dealing with criticism; when we contrast objective
belief with biased belief, we recognize that objectivity is a normative standard
arising out of a human practice.
Let us consider more closely the rules of thumb which demarcate the norma-
tive standard of intellectual honesty. The first rule is: objective behavior requires
a willingness to take criticism seriously. If Mary does not take Peter's criticism
of her views seriously, we will consider Mary to be biased. Nonetheless, as we
have seen, Mary could respond to a fact or argument against her view either
by denying the fact or argument, or by deploying a speculative theory to recon-
cile the fact or argument with her interpretation. The second rule is: objective
behavior implies a preference for established standards of evidence and reason
backed by a preference for challenges to these standards which themselves rest
on impersonal and consistent criteria of evidence and reason. This rule limits
those occasions when we can reject a fact or argument which contradicts our
views. In particular, this rule sets up a presumption against exceptions: we
should try to avoid responding to uncomfortable facts or arguments by declarin
them to be exceptions proving our interpretation; instead, we should try to
modify our webs of interpretations to accommodate troublesome cases. The
third rule is: objective behavior implies a preference for positive speculative
theories, that is, speculative theories postulating exciting new predictions, not
speculative theories merely blocking off criticisms of our existing interpreta-
tions. This rule limits the occasions when we can have recourse to speculative
336 MARK BEVIR
theories to reconcile an original interpretation with apparently contrary evi-

dence. In particular, the third rule expresses a presumption against purely face-
saving responses to criticism: we should try to avoid meeting criticism by person-
alizing the issue, fancy word-play, vacuous waffle, special pleading, or makeshift
apologetic; instead, we should try to modify our webs of interpretations in
ways that extend the range and vigor of their core ideas.
The rules that define intellectual honesty describe preferred behavior, not
required behavior. This is because we can compare only webs of interpretations,
not individual interpretations. Because experiences and facts embody under-
standings and interpretations, we cannot evaluate a particular understanding
or interpretation except as part of a wider web of understandings or interpreta-
tions. Thus, if historians reject a fact, or introduce a speculative theory, in a
way precluded by our rules, the interpretation they thereby invoke still might
be part of a web of interpretations which our rules show to be highly desirable.
We must respect our rules as we develop a web of interpretations, but we need
not follow our rules on each and every occasion. Our rules are rules of thumb,
not prescriptive laws.
Definite criteria for the comparison of webs of interpretations arise out of
this account of intellectual honesty. These criteria fall into two groups. First,
because we should respect established standards of evidence and reason, we will
prefer webs of interpretations that are accurate, comprehensive, and consistent.
Our standards of evidence require us to. try to support our interpretations by
reference to as many clearly identified facts as we can. An accurate web of
interpretations is one with a close fit to the facts supporting it. A comprehensive
web of interpretations is one that fits a wide range of facts with few outstanding
exceptions, and especially one that fits facts from different areas, or from areas
that previously seemed unrelated. Our standards of reasoning require us to
try to make our interpretations intelligible and coherent. A consistent web of
interpretations is one that holds together without contravening the principles
of logic. Second, because we should favor positive speculative theories to those
merely blocking criticism, we will prefer webs of interpretations that are progres-
sive, fruitful, and open. Our speculative theories are positive insofar as they
inspire new avenues of research, or suggest new predictions. A progressive web
of interpretations is one characterized by positive speculative theories postu-
lating new predictions not previously connected with that web of interpreta-
tions. A fruitful web of interpretations is one in which the new predictions
made by associated speculative theories characteristically receive support from
the facts. Here, fruitful progress comes largely from historians postulating
speculative responses to criticism, so the more a web of interpretations cuts
itself off from all possible criticism, the more it becomes a dead end, unable
to sustain further progress. An open web of interpretations is one that consists
of clearly defined propositions thereby facilitating criticism.
We cannot evaluate interpretations either definitively or instantly. In the
first place, because objectivity rests on criteria of comparison, not a logic of
vindication or refutation, the web of interpretations we select as a result of

comparison will be a web which best meets our criteria, not a web which reveals
itself indubitably to be a given truth. Historians make sense of the past as best
they can; they do not discover certainties. Thus, no matter how badly a web
of interpretations does by our criteria, we will not reject it unless there is a
better alternative in the offing. Effective criticism must be positive. There is no
point in our attacking a web of interpretations unless we also champion a
suitable alternative. When critics challenge our interpretation of such and such,
we rightly ask how the critics would account for such and such. In the second
place, because objectivity rests on criteria of comparison, not a logic of vindica-
tion or refutation, our selection of interpretations by a process of comparison
will be gradual. How well a web of interpretations does in comparison with
other webs might vary with time as protagonists and critics turn up new facts
and propose new speculative theories. A single criticism can never demolish a
reigning web because we must give the protagonists of a reigning web time to
develop a speculative theory countering the criticism in a fruitful way. Thus,
dogmatism can have a positive role. People can stick by challenged interpreta-
tions while they develop suitable responses to the challenge. Here a web of
theories triumphs over time by winning an increasing number of adherents,
but as it triumphs, fresh alternatives emerge, and old alternatives return with
new additions. In this way, historians make better and better sense of the past
through a continuous process of dialectical competition between rival webs of
interpretations which themselves constantly progress in response to criticism.
IV. THE EXAMPLE OF LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
My account of historical objectivity suggests that historians generally agree on

certain facts, and they should conduct disputes between their rival interpreta-
tions in terms relying, at least implicitly, on criteria of accuracy, comprehensive-
ness, consistency, progressiveness, fruitfulness, and openness. This is true even
of the history of ideas, the area of study of most concern to Gadamer, Foucault,
and probably Derrida too. A brief consideration of a well known debate about
the meaning of Locke's Two Treatises of Government will fill out my concept
of objectivity through comparison by showing how something like this view
of objectivity might be at work in this debate.
Just as historians generally agree on various facts understood as observations
saturated with interpretation, so historians of ideas agree on several facts about
Locke and his Two Treatises. They agree that Locke wrote the Two Treatises;
that Locke used the idea of a state of nature to present his political views; that
Locke argued that men have rights, including those to life and property; and that
the Two Treatises justifies revolution in some circumstances, albeit exceptional
ones. They agree on these facts, and others like them, irrespective of things such
as their ideological affinities, their theories of meaning, and their professional
standing. Moreover, because any number of intellectual historians accept such
338 MARK BEVIR
facts, they can use them as a starting point for comparing their rival interpreta-
tions of Locke's work. Most theories in the history of ideas are either interpreta-
tions of texts, that is, attempts to show how various facts come together to
give one or more texts a certain significance, or they are philosophical views
of the general nature and place of texts and ideas in history and society. For
instance, C. B. Macpherson marshalled various facts to argue that Locke de-
fended the rationality of unlimited desire, and so capital accumulation, in a
way that provided a moral basis for capitalism. What is more, Macpherson
did so in the context of a broadly Marxist historiography, according to which
British theorists of the seventeenth and eighteenth century adopted ideas which
reflected the emergence of a capitalist economy.8
When historians criticize and compare theories in terms of accepted facts,
they use criteria of accuracy, comprehensiveness, consistency, fruitfulness, open-
ness, and progressiveness. Thus, Alan Ryan has criticized Macpherson for inac-
curacy.9 He argued that Macpherson was wrong to say Locke thought rationality
was restricted to one class who went in for the acquisition of capital goods.
Rather, Locke explicitly said that all adults apart from lunatics were rational
enough to understand what the law of nature required of them. Ryan also
criticized Macpherson, at least implicitly, for failing to be comprehensive: Mac-
pherson's theory could not account for the many passages in the Two Treatises
that appear to say things clearly contrary to Macpherson's interpretation. More
generally, Ryan suggested that Macpherson's errors stem from an unfruitful
method. Macpherson's historiography led to an emphasis on factors other than
Locke's text as a basis for a reading of it, but when Ryan evaluated this reading
against the text he found passages in it showing the reading to be wrong. Mac-
pherson's historiography was unfruitful because it inspired a prediction that
received no real support from the facts. In contrast, Ryan recommended a
method based on reading the text alone so as to uncover what Locke said, if
not what Locke intended to say.
John Dunn too has criticized Macpherson for not being comprehensive: Mac-
pherson's theory took no account of Locke's religious faith, a faith which
provided the unifying theme of his thought.'0 In particular, Dunn argued that
Locke could not have intended to demonstrate the overriding rationality of
capital accumulation precisely because his view of rationality depended on his
religious beliefs, and so for him the rationality of any action in this world
necessarily would depend on the effect of the action on one's afterlife. More
recently, James Tully has developed Dunn's broad critique of Macpherson by
interpreting the Two Treatises, within the context of Locke's religious beliefs,
as an attempt to defend a self-governing community of small proprietors en-
joying the security to harvest the fruits of their labors, an ideal which Tully sees
as contrary to capitalism." More generally, Dunn, too, related Macpherson's
8. C. B. Macpherson, The Political Theory of Possessive Individualism (Oxford, 1962), chap. 5.

9. A. Ryan, "Locke and the Dictatorship of the Bourgeoisie," Political Studies 13 (1965), 219-230.
10. J. Dunn, The Political Thought of John Locke (Cambridge, Eng., 1969).
11. J. Tuly, A Discourse on Property: John Locke and HisAdversaries (Cambridge, Eng., 1980).
erroneous view of Locke to a faulty method. 12 Macpherson paid too much heed
to the socioeconomic context of the texts he studied at the expense of their
linguistic contexts; thus, to interpret Locke as an ideologue of capitalism is to
ignore the importance of religious beliefs at the time Locke wrote, thereby
reading into Locke a modern preoccupation with economic concerns. Instead,
Dunn advocated, against Ryan as well as Macpherson, a method which would
focus on the intentions we can sensibly ascribe to authors in the light of what
we know of the characteristic beliefs of their time.
Because people can respond to criticism in a way that strengthens their theory,
comparison must be a more or less continuous activity. Here, however, our
criteria of comparison suggest we should scrutinize the way in which people
deflect criticisms to see if they do so in a progressive manner maintaining the
openness of their theory. Thus, if Macpherson responded to the criticisms of
Ryan or Dunn, or if Ryan responded to the criticisms of Dunn, we would want
to know whether their revised views represented either a progressive develop-
ment of their theories or a purely defensive hypothesis. For example, Neal
Wood has defended an interpretation of Locke that we might regard as a revised
version of Macpherson's view insofar as it apparently rests on a fairly similar,
broadly Marxist, historiography. 13 Wood criticizes Tully's interpretation of Locke
for being incomplete, and possibly inconsistent: we cannot reconcile Tully's
view with many established facts about Locke and his views, such as that Locke
charged interest on loans to good friends, served the Whig aristocracy faithfully,
supported slavery, and did not condemn wide income differentials. However,
these criticisms of Tully do not suggest new insights, but merely counter a
particular alternative to Macpherson; by themselves, therefore, they would
represent a purely defensive attempt to block criticism of the Marxist outlook.
However, Wood also extends the Marxist outlook by presenting a revised theory
which he claims accounts for the limitations of Macpherson's original view of
Locke. His Locke is a theorist of agrarian capitalism, not an apologist for a
mercantile and manufacturing bourgeoisie. How progressive this view of Locke
really is, and whether or not the Marxist outlook as a whole is characterized
by progressive responses, need not concern us. What matters for our discussion
is the way that historians might use my criteria of comparison to judge objec-
tively rival interpretations and revisions to interpretations.
V. DEALING WITH RELATIVISM
Numerous historical debates could have illustrated the way historians might
deploy my criteria of comparison to defend their interpretations. But any ex-
ample I chose probably would meet the objections that an account of historical
objectivity based on generally accepted facts and criteria of comparison fails
12. For Dunn's methodological beliefs see J. Dunn, "The Identity of the History of Ideas,"
Philosophy 43 (1968), 85-104.
13. N. Wood, John Locke and Agrarian Capitalism (Berkeley, 1984).
340 MARK BEVIR
because we have no reason to assume the interpretations we so select will give

us more or less accurate knowledge of the past. In particular, any explicitly
subjective concept of historical objectivity such as mine will arouse the two
dreaded phantoms of relativism, namely, irrationality and incommensurability.
Critics will complain, first, that even if historians generally agree on the facts,
and even if they have criteria for comparing webs of interpretations, they still
cannot make rational decisions on the basis of these facts and these criteria.
Just because certain facts are generally accepted does not make them true. On
the contrary, if historical facts depend on human practices, they might differ
from the truth, and this suggests our webs of interpretations are conventional,
so our historical knowledge is irrational.'4 Critics will complain, second, that
even if some historians can agree on facts, and even if they have criteria for
comparing webs of interpretations, other historians still might reject both these
facts and these criteria. After all, if our webs of interpretations rest on conven-
tional facts, our interpretations are acceptable only to historians who accept
our conventions, and this suggests our historical knowledge is incommensurable
with the knowledge of historians from other cultural backgrounds.15 How can
we meet these criticisms?
Let us begin with the problem of irrationality. Any attempt to defend histor-
ical objectivity by invoking generally accepted facts must steer a course between
the Scylla of arbitrariness and the Charybdis of circularity. If we do not attempt
to justify our facts as true, if we rely solely on historians generally accepting
them, they will appear arbitrary, and so incapable of justifying our interpreta-
tions. But if we justify our facts as true by reference to our interpretations,
we create a circular argument whereby we justify the facts in terms of the
interpretations and the interpretations in terms of the facts. There is a way
out. We can relate generally accepted facts to truth by pointing out that our
perceptions must be more or less reliable because human practices occur within
given natural and social environments. Crucially, our knowledge provides us
with an understanding of the world, our understanding of the world guides
our actions in the world, and our actions in the world generally work out more
or less as we expect. In contrast, a radically false understanding of the world
would prove unsustainable because it would lead us to act in ways which would
prove unsustainable. Again, our natural environment limits the actions we can
perform successfully, and so the ways we can understand the world. Because
we must act within the world, the actions we can perform successfully are
limited by the nature of the world, and because our interpretations and percep-
tions inform our actions, our interpretations and perceptions too are constrained
14. This seems to me to be the criticism suggested by the anti-rationalism of Foucault, and to
some extent Derrida, who argues that it is precisely because knowledge rests exclusively on human
practices, epistemes, discourses, or regimes of power that there is no rational basis for such knowledge.
15. This seems to me to be a criticism suggested by-or perhaps I should say a criticism that
could be levelled at - Gadamer's defining truth solely within the context of a tradition: if questions
of truth are settled within a tradition, we cannot expect historians from outside our tradition to
share our answers to these questions.
by the nature of the world. For example, suppose that John operates a dogsled
in the Arctic Circle but he does not perceive any difference between dogs and
wolves. Before too long, John will run into serious trouble. Suppose now that
all humans had perceptions as unreliable as John's. In this case, humanity as
a whole would have run into serious problems long ago. Thus, the very fact
that we are here, let alone the successes we have had in manipulating the world
according to our wills, is strong evidence that our perceptions generally are
reliable. Further, because we can rely on the broad content of our perceptions,
we have a good reason to assume the facts we agree upon usually will be true;
after all, facts are simply exemplary perceptions. Finally, because we can assume
accepted facts usually will be true, interpretations based on these facts will
be relatively secure. In short, we can ground interpretations in facts, facts in
perceptions, and perceptions in our ability to interact successfully with our envi-
ronment.
We can relate historical objectivity to truth because our ability to find our
way around in the world vouches for the basic accuracy- of our perceptions.
Here my anthropological epistemology takes on a naturalistic tint. It is our
place in the natural order of things which enables us to treat our knowledge
as an approximation to truth. Nonetheless, my anthropological epistemology
differs significantly from naturalized epistemologies. Most naturalized episte-
mologies equate an account of objectivity with a peculiarly abstract psycholog-
ical or sociological study of the way people actually reach what we take to be
justified knowledge. In contrast, my anthropological epistemology presents a
normative account of objectivity according to which historians should justify
their interpretations in terms of my criteria of comparison. It is just that when
historians do justify their interpretations in this way, they can fend off the
charge of irrationalism by reference to the nature of our being in the world.
Our interaction with our environment secures the broad content of our per-
ception, not particular instances of our perception. This is why we can accept
criteria for comparing rival webs of interpretations, but not a logic of either
vindication or refutation for evaluating individual interpretations. Our ability
to interact with our environment implies that our perceptions of our environ-
ment must fall within the limits demarcating the point beyond which such
interaction would not be possible. Thus, most of the facts historians agree upon
must be more or less true. However, while our perceptions as a whole must
fall within these limits, no particular perception is foolproof. Thus, the facts
historians agree upon are not secure enough to enable us conclusively to deter-
mine the truth or falsity of any particular theory. I can make the same point
in a different way. Our knowledge ultimately derives from an empirical base, but
our knowledge of this empirical base embodies the theories we use to categorize
things in terms of similarities and differences, and to ascribe certain qualities
to things so categorized. Here the empirical basis of our knowledge secures the
general accuracy of agreed facts, thereby making sense of our efforts to compare
webs of interpretations. But the theoretical component of our knowledge pre-
342 MARK BEVIR
vents our being certain about any particular fact, and so about the truth or
falsity of any particular interpretation. We can secure the general sweep of
historical knowledge, but not a particular aspect of historical knowledge.
Let us turn now to the problem of incommensurability. The practice of
objectivity depends on our comparing rival webs of interpretations. If historians
disagree about the relative merits of different webs, they should draw back from
the point of disagreement until they find an acceptable platform -consisting of
agreed facts, standards of evidence, and ways of reasoning - from which to
compare these webs. Proponents of incommensurability suggest historians from
different cultural backgrounds might not share any such platform so they cannot
compare their respective webs of interpretations. For the sake of argument,
imagine a group of anthropologists who discover a lost tribe opposed to many of
our beliefs, our standards of evidence, and our ways of reasoning. Nonetheless,
universal disagreement does not preclude meaningful comparison, so the mere
existence of the tribe does not establish a thesis of incommensurability. Rather,
our critics must argue that the anthropologists and the members of the tribe
cannot compare their respective worldviews. Here we will find that worldviews
cannot be incommensurable because the anthropologists and the tribe can come
to understand each other's worldview, and because they then can compare their
worldviews by trying to account for the practices inspired by each worldview
in terms of the other worldview.
Once again, the crucial point is: our beliefs guide our actions within given
natural and social environments. Because our worldviews inform our practices,
members of any given culture must recognize some similarities and differences
in the things they encounter: all practices consist of repeatable patterns of
behavior, and these can exist only if the practitioners recognize at least some
situations as similar to, and others as different from, at least some previous
situations. Further, because the perception of similarities or differences ulti-
mately must rest on exemplary perceptions, exemplary perceptions will count
as facts in all cultures: people in all cultures will be as confident about the
things they take to be exemplary perceptions as they could be about any evidence
or reason to accept those exemplary perceptions. Thus, even if the anthropolo-
gists and the tribe disagree with each and every fact the other group believes
in, the structures of their worldviews must be more or less similar. All worldviews
must rest on facts understood as exemplary perceptions which lead to a categori-
zation of things in terms of similarities and differences. Thus, the anthropolo-
gists and the tribe can come to understand each others' beliefs provided they
can perceive the similarities and differences in terms of which each other catego-
rizes things.
Because the success of both the tribe and the anthropologists in interacting
with their environments guarantees the broad content of both of their percep-
tions, they both could come to perceive the similarities and differences in terms
of which the other group categorizes things. For a start, a broad guarantee of
the perceptions of the tribe implies that many of the similarities and differences
embodied in their worldview must be true of reality. Further, a broad guarantee

of the perceptions of the anthropologists implies that they can recognize similari-
ties and differences that are true of reality, including the true similarities and
differences contained within the worldview of the tribe. Thus, the anthropolo-
gists can come to understand the beliefs of the tribe; and, by parallel reasoning,
the tribe can come to understand the beliefs of the anthropologists. Even if
their categorizations are not remotely similar, it remains true that they both
perceive things more or less as they are, their categorizations must be more or
less true to reality, and they can come to grasp each others' categorizations
precisely because these categorizations are more or less true of reality.
Once the anthropologists and the tribe understand each other's worldview,
they can compare the merits of their respective worldviews by trying to account
for the practices inspired by each worldview in terms of the other worldview.
As the anthropologists come to perceive the similarities and differences in-
forming the worldview of the tribe, they typically will come to offer explanations
of these similarities and differences. Either they will incorporate a belief of the
tribe into their worldview, or they will dismiss the belief as an illusion, in which
case they will try to explain the persistence of this illusion in the worldview of
the tribe. Similarly, as the tribe comes to understand the worldview of the
anthropologists, either they will incorporate new beliefs into their worldview,
or they will dismiss these beliefs as illusions, in which case they will try to
explain these illusions. In this way, the anthropologists and the tribe acquire
a stock of shared facts, or, at the very least, they develop explanations of each
other's worldviews. Thus, they now can compare their worldviews in terms of
their respective ability to account for shared facts, or, at the very least, to
account for each other's worldviews. Their encounter with one another has
resulted in their understandings becoming commensurable.
VI. CONCLUSION
We can accept with Gadamer, Foucault, and Derrida that we do not have
access to a given past, and still insist on the viability of a concept of historical
objectivity couched in terms of criteria of comparison. Gadamer, Foucault,
Derrida, and other critics of historical objectivity in terms of a given past might
be happy to allow for my concept of objectivity. But I think not. Crucially,
they are generally too ready to adopt some sort of irrationalist (in the case of
Foucault and to some extent of Derrida) or conventionalist (in the case of
Gadamer) concept of truth as defined in relation to a particular discourse or
tradition. In contrast, I have shown that we can relate an account of objectivity
to an objectivist account of truth by way of the nature of our being in the
world. In this sense, my account of objectivity remains an account of objective
knowledge, not just an account of objective knowledge within a subjective or
intersubjective language, tradition, or practice.
There is a special reason why my account of objectivity should appeal to
historians in particular. I have presented objectivity as a product of a human
344 MARK BEVIR
or historical practice; historians, and others, arrive at objective knowledge by

engaging in a particular type of comparative activity. In this sense, an assessment
of the objective status of a particular instance of knowledge is something to be
judged not by some atemporal comparison with given facts, but by a historical
investigation into the place of that instance of knowledge at the particular time
being considered. Again, the problem of commensurability is overcome not by
adopting a scientific or philosophical overview of the different cultures under
consideration, but by the actual encounter of these cultures within history.
Thus, we can say that the working out of objectivity is itself a profoundly
historical process.
Newcastle University, U.K.

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Many philosophers have rejected the possibility of objective historical knowledge on

II. A CRITIQUE OF EMPIRICISM4

3. J. Derrida, "Differance," in Margins of Philosophy, transl. A. Bass (Chicago, 1982), 23.

whether a given historical analysis is or is not true, while logics of refutation

incorporate theoretical understanding. Our everyday accounts of our experi-

Thus, we cannot determine conclusively whether an individual theory is true

III. OBJECTIVITY THROUGH COMPARISON

Because our critique of empiricism implies that historical interpretations always

7. Something akin to my account of objectivity through comparison is adopted by every contrib-

depends on our making reasonable comparisons between rival theories where

theories to reconcile an original interpretation with apparently contrary evi-

vindication or refutation, the web of interpretations we select as a result of

IV. THE EXAMPLE OF LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES

My account of historical objectivity suggests that historians generally agree on

8. C. B. Macpherson, The Political Theory of Possessive Individualism (Oxford, 1962), chap. 5.

V. DEALING WITH RELATIVISM

because we have no reason to assume the interpretations we so select will give

embodied in their worldview must be true of reality. Further, a broad guarantee

or historical practice; historians, and others, arrive at objective knowledge by

Newcastle University, U.K.

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