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To cite this article: Paul Veyne (1982) The inventory of differences, Economy and Society, 11:2, 173-198, DOI:
10.1080/03085148200000009
To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/03085148200000009
Paul Veyne
Men and women who have better reasons than I for being undaunted
are, I'm told, terrified in the hours and days preceding their
inaugural lecture.' And there are, of course, so many reasons why
anyone might be terrified in front of any of you that I shall not
bore you by inflicting on you the detailed account of the reasons
for being terrified which may be peculiar to me. I shall ask for
mercy only on account of one of these reasons. You, my dear
colleagues, have appointed me to a chair in Roman history. Now I
am quite convinced that history exists, sociological history at any
rate. Sociological history is restricted neither to recounting nor
Rather, sociological history structures
even to c~mprehension.~
its subject-matter through recourse to the conceptualisation of the
human sciences, also called the moral and political sciences. I am
no less convinced that the Romans existed really; that is, that they
existed at one and the same time in just as exotic and just as everyday a manner as the Tibetans, for example, or the Nambikwara, no
more and no less. In this way it is no longer possible to think of
them as a sort of people-value [peuple-valeur].So, if both history
and the Romans exist, does a Roman history exist? Does history
consist in the narration of histories according to temporal order?
The answer, to give it immediately, will be formally, no, and
materially, yes. Yes, because historical events exist; no, because no
historical explanation exists. Like many other sciences, history
informs its materials through recourse to another science, sociology.
In the same way, there do exist astronomical phenomena but,
unless I am mistaken, there exists no astronomical explanation.
The explanation of astronomical facts is physics. But a course in
astronomy is not a course in physics.
When you entrusted this Chair of Roman History to a stranger
whose birthplace was the school of historical sociology, I imagine,
my dear colleagues, that you wanted to respect one of your traditions. For this Chair has traditionally had an interest in the human
sciences. Keen to present himself in his best light, your servant will
therefore refer to what might be called the second moment of the
Aronian philosophy of history. The first moment of that philosophy
Economy and Society Volume 1 1 Number 2 May 1982
O R.K.P. 1982 0308-5147/8211102-0173
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Paul Veyne
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follow convention and call them 'sociology' for short) are not the
territory of the neighbour with whom one might establish points
of contact or whom one might raid for useful objects. They bring
nothing to history, because they do much more than that. They
inform it: they constitute it. Otherwise, one would have t o suppose
that historians were the sole members of their species t o have the
right to talk about certain things - peace, wars, nations, administrations or customs - without knowing what these things are and
without starting to learn what they are through the study of the
sciences which deal with them.
Even if the historians want t o be positivists, they would not
succeed. Even if they do not want to acknowledge it, they do have
a sociology, since they cannot open their mouth without uttering
the words 'war' or 'city' and without relying on, for want of a
theory worthy of the name, the wisdom of nations or on false
concepts, such as 'feudality' or 'redistribution'. Erudition, the
serious part of the job of history, is therefore only half the task.
And nowadays the formation of a historian is double. It is erudite
but, in addition, it is sociological. That gives us twice as much
work, for science makes progress, and every day sees a furious
advance in the world's loss of innocence.
The human sciences are fashionable, as it is said. In other words,
our epoch is more profoundly cultivated than others. It no longer
learns much Latin but, to make up for it, it understands more
things about its own world. Now it is undeniable that our epoch is
turning away from classical studies. I can see only two possible
explanations for that. If the cultivated public is no longer much
interested in antiquity, it is either because antiquity is not interesting or because we analysts of antiquity have been unable t o interest
people in it. Which? Not that it's a matter of begging for the votes
of opinion - history is done to amuse historians, that's all. It's just
that it would be more fun to be amused in the company of more
people. Here I am, then, doing a bit of proselytising. So, if we have
to play recruitment officers, we might as well do it with some
chance of success. I shall not, therefore, talk about humanism and
I shall not defend culture. Culture is well and truly dead when it is
defended rather than invented.
Ladies and gentlemen, it is a matter of conceptualising - on the
basis of simple ethnographic or sociological curiosity - the history
of an old empire, the main debris of which is called Digeste or
Lucretius and Virgil, this Dante in two persons. There is a poetry
of remoteness. Nothing is further from us than this civilisation of
antiquity. It is exotic, or rather it is over, and the objects which
our excavations bring forth are as surprising as meteorites. Little
of Rome's heritage has entered into us and even that is in us in
greatly diluted doses and at the cost of considerable reinterpreta-
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tions. Between the Romans and us ap abyss has been hollowed out
by Christianity, by German philosophy, by technological, scientific
and economic revolutions, by everything that comprises our civilisation. And that is why Roman history is interesting. It takes us out
of ourselves and forces u s to make explicit the differences separating us from it. A civilisation less distant from our own would not
have that virtue. We would have a common language with it, so
that the greater part of what the historian would have to say could
go without saying. Historiography could then be delayed longer in
the penumbra of the only vaguely conceived.
A second reason, which will appear strange, is that Roman
history is a sharper incitement than others t o the business of making explicit the non-thought, a sharper incitement t o conceptualisation. This histary is poorly documented, more poorly documented,
at any rate, than a good part of medieval history. Now this poor
documentation, this poverty, instigates ingenuity, and that in turn
engenders a new richness. All historiography depends in part on
the problematic it adopts and in part on the documents it has at
its disposal. And if a historiography is blocked, it will be due now
to the lack of documents, now to a sclerosed problematic. Now
experience shows that the sclerosis of the problematic always
occurs much earlier than the exhaustion of documents. Even when
documentation is poor, there are always problems which it does
not occur to us to pose. This is also the case, a fortiori, when
documentation is rich. For when sources are abundant, it is possible
to practise an extensive exploitation of them for a long time, without modifying the problematic. We are satisfied with the exploitation of new sectors of the soil. When political history approaches
marginally zero yields because its technology is antiquated, then,
without upsetting the technology, we set about nonevent-based
history and we replace the dates of treaties and battles with curves
of long duration. That is the advantage of inhabiting the richest
plains of the country of history. Hence the unbounded admiration
earned by two discoverers, Philippe Ariks and Michel Foucault,
who, as true entrepreneurs in the manner of Schumpeter, have
been innovators without being constrained by poverty.
When the apparent exhaustion of documents compels the modification of the problematic, it emerges that new questions become
exploitable. It even happens that traditional questions approach
their solution thanks to the new technology. Here is an example
which permits the understanding of conceptualisation, of theory
and .of the invariant. This is the question of Roman imperialism.
This imperialism poses no problem so long as the historian remains
unquestioning and restricts himself t o recounting the Roman
Conquest. But if v e undertake to enquire why the Romans suddenly
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it remains only to separate them. On the one hand, all social reality
is objectively limited and, on the other, all social reality is confused in our representation and it is up t o us to conceptualise that
reality and see it clearly.
On the one hand, no madness is madness itself, no science is
science itself, no painting is the totality of painting, and no war is
absolute war. Everywhere there are frictions, in Clausewitz' and
Walras' sense, or rarefactions of the discourse in Foucault's sense.
Historical agents are subject to constraints, and in this sense it is
their epoch that is expressed through them. Consequently, it follows
that the expression is never perfectly glued to the expressed there is distortion. Rest assured, I am so far from taking Foucault
for a structuralist that my examples will be taken from Wolfflin,
whose work cannot be imputed t o structuralism, since it had not
then been born. On the one hand, at the level of the concept,
Wolfflin elaborates his fundamental concepts of the history of art.
These are five couples of two concepts: linear and pictorial, closed
form and open form, etc. On the other hand, at the level of the
real, Wolfflin shows that the evolution of pictorial vision is autonomous, or, if you prefer, that it is a sub-system with its own
temporality, an inertia which is not that of the artists. In this way,
artists are subject to the conventions, the pictorial 'discourse', of
their epoch. We must not draw the academic conclusion that every
artist expresses himself through the conventions of his century,
the happy constraint of which is a sort of defiance which he notes
and which allows him to elevate his expression even higher. What
Wolfflin shows, on the contrary, is that the artist is subject purely
and simply to those conventions which, without his knowing,
limit or distort his expression, so that the signifier is n o longer
everywhere glued to the signified. Here, as everywhere, the dualist
theory of reflection breaks down.
In his day, Wolfflin shocked people. He shocked Panofsky, but
Panofsky did not go so far as t o exclaim that Wolfflin wanted t o
assassinate the artist, t o suppress man and the human. We should
forget these empty fears. Wolfflin and Foucault have simply
reminded us that man is not entirely active and that it befalls him
to be subject. Do we cry murder when Catholic theology teaches
that the actions of a just man who receives co-operating grace has
two authors, God and himself? Or that when he submits to operating grace it is God who is working through him? But it is no
different when we realise that in Wolfflin's work the level of the
conceptual invariant and the level of the real remain distinct. On
the one hand, the ten fundamental concepts of the history of art
permit the conceptualisation of the artistic work through time. On
the other hand, the frameworks of vision had their autonomous
evolution and their own temporality.
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duplicated, and, after all, magnetism might not exist. Being knowledge of physical differences does not make physics any less of a
science. In the same way, history, the explanatory inventory of
social differences, is thereby the science of social differences.
For we must not follow Rickert or Windelband. We must not
oppose the particular and the general in an absolute way and
proceed to a dichotomy between the sciences of laws or nomography on the one hand and knowledge of individualities or
ideography [idiographic] on the other. This binary classification
might usefully be succeeded by a classification according t o levels,
since at its own level each science has the two principles at once:
explanation, explanation of everything. Differences become a
matter of indifference only to the higher level. It is said that
physics is concerned with the fall of bodies and scorns the falling
of singular bodies, the fall of each leaf each autumn, whilst history
is concerned with singular facts. That is a mistake. What corresponds to the fall of each leaf is not the historical event, such as
marriage in the seventeenth century and in each of the other
centuries, but the marriage of each and every one of Louis XIV's
subjects. History is no more concerned with those marriages than
physics is concerned with the fall of bodies one by one.
What has thrown everything into confusion is the fact that the
individualisation of historical facts is sui generis. It is due to a
certain abstract temporality which has wrongly led people to
believe that history is the knowledge of spatio-temporal individuations - to all intents and purposes knowledge of the concrete, the
flux of perceptions! People have not recognised that historical
temporality is a construction according to a variable scale which
functions as a filter. Each problematic has its temporality, whether
concerned with ministerial crises or ministerial instability as a
whole.
Whether it is a matter of phenomena, types or events, the question is the same, and it is a live one: what is an individual? Is it the
fall of bodies and marriage under Louis XIV, or falls and marriages
one by one? This is a major problem for epistemology ('science is
only concerned with the general') and for the status of history, at
least if history stops seeing itself as the account of the evolution of
peoples or civilisations and recognises itself as the application of
the moral sciences. It is also a sociological problem. Here the
problem is the ontology of collectives: does the French bourgeoisie
exist or are there only the bourgeois and the French? This is what
people call structuralism: is man anything other than the intersection of the networks constructing him? Is he an arbitrarily
marked out object, like constellations on the campus of the stars?
All these dilemmas cease to be a constraint if it is admitted that
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the individual and the general do not exist objectively and that
there are no individuals in an absolute sense but only individuals
relative to the level adopted.
It follows that the relation between sciences of different levels
itself varies in extent and comprehension. Between biology and
zoology the relation is probably not the same as between physics
and astronomy. Biology, it seems to me, deals with certain
characteristics of single living beings, whilst physics does not deal
with the characteristics of single celestial bodies but of all bodies,
stars or pendula. Everything that belongs to history also belongs
to the moral and political sciences, but that is not reciprocally
true. The perception of colours is of interest to these scientific
levels under various headings, while the Asch effect or the Sherif
effect will belong only to the moral science called psychosociology,
at least so long as it is not found that these effects vary socially,
culturally, as can be expected in the case of the others.
Finally, if you will allow me t o make a spontaneous confession,
I cannot help thinking that in history the questions, which are
sociological, are more important than the answers, which are fact.
It is true that it would be important to know, for example, if
growth in the Roman Empire is explained by the economic model
of Harrod and Domar, or by a better marginal allocation of
resources, or quite simply by fiscal relief. But whatever the answer,
isn't the main thing the very idea of putting the question? In other
words, it is more important to have ideas than t o know truths.
And it is because of that that the great philosophical works remain
significant and classic, even if they have been invalidated. Now,
having ideas is also called dealing with a topic, acquiring consciousness of what is, making it explicit, conceptualising it, wrenching it
from what goes without saying, from Fraglosigkeit [unquestioningness] and from Selbstandigkeit [autonomy]. That amounts to not
being naive any longer but becoming aware that what is might not
be. The real is surrounded by an undefined zone of com-possibles
which are not realised. Truth is not the highest of the knowledge
values.
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