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constituting in any event the very essence of the historian's metier. And
there is always common sense. Too much time spent with the same figures
over the course of many years means one becomes infected-for the his–
torian, this is indeed a disease-by sympathies, and, even more serious
though less common, by antipathies. Rather than deny the exjstence of
such a risk , the historian's task involves accepting it and trying to attenu–
ate its effects.
But any judgement is necessarily a product of the ideological climate
of the times. The ostracism long endured by Raymond Aron at the hands
of a large sector of the intellectual world is every bit as excessive as the
absolute condemnation often suffered these days by Sartre. But merely to
acknowledge this is not to fall into a IGnd of mitigating ecumenism: great–
ly infl uential intellectuals like Sartre and Aron bear responsibili ty to the
degree that the positions they take in public influence the opinions, or
even the actions, of their fellow citizens. It is not the historian's task (or
expertise) to call them to account. But under what banner could he possi–
bly confer on the intellectual
engage
a status of extraterritoriality in the face
of historical research? The intellectual
engage,
being an actor in History, is
subject not to its tribunals (which do not exjst) but to reasoned analysis,
whenever possible, of the consequences of his writings and actions.
There are after all two poles between which the history of intellectu–
als is magnetized: a sociology on the watch for influential trends, and a
more empirical approach, a IGnd of
micro-storia,
in the sense understood by
Italian historiography a few years back in the realm of social history. This
is indispensable, as Sartre writes, since "an historical life is full of dangers
and confrontations ... The future is uncertain, and we are our own great–
est threat, the world is our downfall. ..." The world, yes-and also History,
which is ultimately sole judge and which also, for the moment, has brought
about some profound reversals. From the beginning of the 1980s in partic–
ular, the ashes of Camus came to reassemble themselves just as Sartre began
a descent into hell-and Raymond Aron, after his death, moved directly
into the company of heaven-dwelling thinkers. These two former
petits
camarades
alternate roles in the intellectual world, which has always been a
Valley of Hell for the one, and for the other, a Valhalla.
Translated from the French
by
Jim Tucker
