Historical Interpretation

Teodoro A. Agoncillo 1

Many a time people have wondered why historians, equipped with the same educational background
and possessing the same historical materials, differ widely in their views and interpretation of what are
conveniently called historical facts. This “wondering” is premised basically on the supposition, held as
infallible in certain quarters, that history, that is, history as a written account of what happened in the past, is
and should be objective if its author is to be counted among the respectable and respected practitioners of
the art. I use “art” advisedly, for rightly looked upon, history is not a social science but a branch of humanities,
specially, literary art. In schoolrooms and in public forums, one hears quite often, and sometimes delivered
with an Olympian air, that to be authoritative a historian, like a mathematician, should not, must not, darken
the pages of his work with his own shadow and that to do so would make him lose that supreme objectivity
which, in the thinking of Cambridge classical historian, J.B. Bury, is what history should have because it is a
“science, no less and no more.” This is the classic formulation of that school of “history as science” which the
positivists of the second half of the nineteenth century popularized into an academic dogma, a dogma that
has been accepted blissfully by generations of scholars and teachers. In the Philippines especially, this
dogma has dominated the thinking of the academicians and non-academicians alike to the point that any
deviation from it is considered a sacrilege. Thus, students have been regaled with such canned wisdom as
“Be objective,” “Do not lose your objectivity,” and the like, and even reviewers embellish their usually
superficial reviews with such cliches as “The author is not objective,” “The book lacks objectivity,” and such.
Thus, objectivity in history has become a supreme ideal toward whose attainment the historian’s efforts are
directed.
It is difficult to be unorthodox in a country like ours whose educational system is merely copied and
therefore lacks the relevance of time and place. Hence the difficulty of introducing significant reforms not only
in the educational system of the country, but more importantly, in the thinking of teachers of history who
should be the first, not the last, to make history-as-subject something to cherish and to love. If today history-
as-a-subject is dreaded in the schools and universities, it is because teachers as a rule emphasize dates as
the core which must be memorized by their students. A student is supposed to be bright if he has memorized
all the dates in the textbook. In college, teachers, in “briefing” their students on the term papers to be
prepared, usually emphasize the objectivity of history as more important than the quality of the student’s
materials and composition. This dehumanization of history has been the bane both of history-as-work and
history-as-subject. It is not infrequent to hear students say that they hate history because they have to
memorize so many dates. “I am not good in history,” said one physician to me not long ago, “because I have
a poor memory for dates.” “Memory for dates” – this phrase sums up many people’s idea of history-as-subject.
One hears quite too often the dubious praise “He is good in history” which, in essence, means the fellow
referred to has a good memory for dates. As to interpretation, this is one of those activities of the mind which
does not receive the attention it deserves. Interpretation in history is discouraged because it is subjective,

1The original essay, “Interpretation in History” was read at a Seminar on History on 22 September 1973, sponsored by the
Philippine Historical Association and the National Historical Institute, held at San Carlos University, Cebu City. Revised on 17
January 1974.

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and subjectivity implies being personal, and to be personal is to be biased or prejudiced. Interpretation gives
many people intellectual discomfort, in much the same way that heartburn gives on physical discomfort.
I started by implying that interpretation is implicit in any study of historical materials. This assumes,
of course, that all historians are not afraid to pass through the difficult process of interpretation, after
assessing their materials. When a man does nothing but pile up data, usually in chronological order, he is
not a historian but a calendar maker. When one reads on Philippine history, or any history of a country for
that matter, one is struck by the variety of interpretation of the same set of facts. Why, we ask, is this so?
This question cannot be answered without going into the idea of objectivity in history, for interpretation is a
highly personal matter. Historical facts do not interpret themselves. Historical facts are, as the American
history, Carl L. Becker, long age made obvious, the shadows of past events which are gone and cannot be
made to appear again as they actually happened. Nor it is possible to summon everything in the past in order
to complete the recounting of events. The facts dealt with in any historical work are but a speck in the
boundless sky, an insignificant portion of actuality. It is for this reason that there cannot be completeness in
any historical work. Nor are historical conclusions final. Every historical conclusion is tentative and is valid
only for the duration of a historian’s accumulated facts. When so-called new facts come to light through
assiduous research, facts which contradict or modify the nature of the previously known facts, then another
conclusion based on these “new” facts will of necessity be drawn. This is one of the reasons why interpretation
in history varies from person to person and from age to age, and why history is constantly being re-written.
I ask why historians differ in their interpretation of the same set of facts. If history as a written work
is objective, that is, without the personal prejudices or opinions of the historian intruding into his work, then it
is logical to conclude that all interpretations of the same set of facts must be the same. But experience shows
that historians differ from one another most of the time and agree only on certain points. Even the same
historian, using the same set of facts, changes his interpretation after going over his materials for the second
or perhaps the third or the fourth time. This divergence is sometimes so wide that oftentimes people wonder
what and whom to believe. Thus, a certain Ph.D. in history compiled what he alleged to be the
“inconsistencies” in the works of our historical writers and naively asked who was right. There, of course, no
inconsistencies in the works of the historical writers mentioned but only differences in interpretation or
opinion. A layman’s confusion is surprising. In the face of differing opinions, a history major is expected to
use his common sense and make his own researches, after which he can draw his own conclusion. As far
as a layman is concerned, what he should do in the face of conflicting opinion is to use his native intelligence
by studying carefully the given facts and then drawing his own conclusion which may be different from those
of the authors he has read. I do not fear that any confusion will result from such intellectual exercise. The
confusion will be in the heads of those who have never been accustomed to thinking for themselves. The
beauty of history-as-subject and as a species of writing lies in the variety of interpretation. Any attempt to
secure or impose only one interpretation is a malicious attempt on the life of history itself. One can imagine
the dullness of all history books which have the same interpretation, the same conclusion, and the same
approach to the same subject.
Some people fear that allowing one’s self the exercise of the right to interpret facts might lead to
unconscious or subconscious bias which, they said, should be avoided. This mortal fear of interpretation
because of the fear of being biased will naturally lead to making history-as-writing a mere physical exercise
devoid of idea, color, and atmosphere. This is not history in the real sense of the world, but mere chronology,
a calendar, if you will. I believe that any historian worth the name should not fear bias or prejudice; as a

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matter of fact, he should be open about it and not try to hide his bias under false pretenses. I am not saying
that the historian must be biased; what I am saying is that bias is natural in any person and that it is impossible
for any man not to be biased in one way or other. The historian is a human being, deeply human, and, like
all others about him, capable of feeling the pangs of sorrow, the sweetness of joy, the pride of victory, and
everything that makes life a drama being played on the stage. What a historian should avoid is the telling of
deliberate lies or the twisting of facts to suit his personal or group interests. Fact-twisting is either deliberate
or unintentional. It is deliberate if it is done consciously with a selfish motive. It is unintentional if it is the result
of ignorance or stupidity or both. In either case, the historian who is guilty of fact-twisting or distortion has no
place in a profession which lays so much emphasis and value on intellectual honesty.
What the historian should strive mightily to attain is impartiality, which is not the same as objectivity.
To be impartial is to be fair. In objectivity, the historian is supposed to detach himself from any entanglement
with what he is writing in order to avoid intruding himself into the picture. In impartiality, the historian is asked
to look at all possible angles or sides of a question. Having given all sides an airing, so to speak, the historian
then draws his conclusion which, necessarily, favor one or the other. But in favoring one side, he cannot be
judged unfair or partial since he exerted efforts to present all sides of the question. His conclusion may show
his bias, which is natural in any person, but he cannot be properly accused of being unfair. The historian is
like a judge in some ways in that like a judge, he listens to all arguments and considers all proofs, pro and
con, after which he renders his decision. But the historian, unlike a judge, has the right to consider all pieces
of evidence relevant to his subject and is not inhibited by any law which excludes evidence acquired through
unlawful means, such as wiretapping, eavesdropping, and the like. Moreover, the historian, unlike a judge,
is prosecuting attorney, defense attorney, detective, witness, and judge all rolled into one. In this sense, the
role of the historian is not only eclectic, but dramatic.
Since the historian is human and being human has weaknesses as well as a strength, he should
strive at all times under any circumstances to be impartial in the treatment of subjects that come within his
ken. Let him not fool himself into believing that he could attain objectivity like a mathematician. Objectivity is
an ideal devoutly to be wished but it is an ideal and, therefore, unattainable. The best thing to do under the
circumstances he is in, is to admit that he is capable of erring, of having passions and prejudices, hate and
love, and sympathy and antipathy. Because he is conditioned by all these and by his heritage and his
surroundings, he cannot hope to be detached, much as he would like to be detached, like an impassive,
unthinking and unfeeling object. It is because of these conditioning factors that historians differ from one
another in their interpretations of facts, in biases, in approach, and in style. There are other conditioning
factors, such as the degree of sensitivity, sharpness of feeling, keenness of insight, range and depth of vision,
and, not the least, the ability to express ideas and feelings with precision and clarity. These factors, taken
together, form a natural and massive bulwark against the attainment of unanimity among historians.
Let me now pass from observation to practical considerations. Anybody who has read the works of
our historical writers will easily notice the differences in their opinions, style, and approach. Some are
decidedly pro-Spanish, others are unashamedly pro-American, and a few are pro-Filipino. There was, as a
matter of record, a Catholic history of the Philippines. To date, I have not come across a pro-Iglesia ni Cristo,
a pro-Protestant, a pro-Aglipayan, and a pro-Muslim history of the Philippines. I hope I may not see the day
when this kind of history books will grace the bookshelves of individuals and schools. This may be flattering
to a group or vested interest, but they do the vested interest more harm than good. In the final analysis, works
of history, like all works of art, will be judged by posterity on the basis not only of accuracy and style of writing,

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but more so of integrity. For the historian as artist must have deep convictions not attuned to popular fallacies
and myths, not to popular beliefs and traditional views, but to truth as he sees it in historical materials. It is
this integrity of the historian, no less than the integrity of artists in general, that counts most in the long run.
And the “long run” judges more accurately and dispassionately than the “short run” because it is not fettered
by the tyranny of current fashion and current prejudices. A historian who lacks integrity is no better than a
common streetwalker, for while the latter has no reputation to protect, nor honor to uphold, the historian, on
the other hand, has a reputation he won when he entered the field of historical scholarship. By electing to be
an intellectual prostitute, either because of his ardent wish to be in the good graces of some gods, holy and
unholy, or to make of his profession a lucrative business, he deliberately places himself beneath a
streetwalker’s professional dignity and thus forever disqualifies himself from receiving the favors of Clio.
It might be asked how interpretations can be deduced or extracted from mass of materials. There is
no formula on how to interpret, for history, unlike the social and natural sciences, is not concerned with
formulas and laws. Interpretation depends on the quality of data and on the ability of the historian. A historian
who has a wider and deeper experience, a keener insight, a wider range of vision, and better writing ability,
has more chances of interpreting his facts intelligently than one who is good only in compiling data and using
a pair of scissors and a bottle of paste. The interpretative aspect of history writing is most difficult, for it
requires of a historian that he be a humanist and a philosopher. Gathering data, pr spade work, is only
physically arduous and requires just enough intelligence to put relevant facts together and to classify them.
It is inferior to the interpretative aspect and can be undertaken by any average undergraduate. But to interpret
intelligently, one must be close to his facts, that can make the decision whether certain facts are relevant to
his subject or not and whether or not certain facts fit in well with other facts. It is in doing the actual research
that the historian learns to discriminate between what are facts and what are fantasies and to put together,
for the first time, the pieces of evidence in their proper places. I do not think it wise for a scholar to let others
do the “dirty” job for hum. To do so would be to miss the joy and excitement of facing and solving problems
connected with actual research.
One often hears someone saying that he disagrees with another on this or that point because the
fellow is wrong. Which means that he does not accept the other fellow’s interpretation. I believe that on
questions of interpretation, one is not qualified in saying that another fellow is wrong. Interpretation is not
right or wrong; it is either valid or invalid, likely or dubious, good or bad, sensible or foolish. The validity of an
interpretation that does not issue from the given facts or which is contradicted by these, is either invalid or
foolish. Interpretation, therefore, must not go beyond what the facts indicate or beyond the intention of a
witness. Any attempt to go beyond the intention or context or the facts is sheer fantasy. I remember my
boyhood days when Tagalog poets and writers, including those involved in the writing of Philippine history,
used to shout on the stage during the Rizal Day celebrations that Rizal’s novels constituted the Filipino’s
Bible and that they paved the way for the Revolution of 1896. Everybody accepted this interpretation. To this
day, it is still cherished with nostalgia by the traditionalist historical writers. I will not say that this interpretation
is wrong; any interpretation of Rizal’s novels is as good or as bad as any other. But do the facts of the
Philippine Revolution justify the claim? If so, then Rizal, were he alive today, would feel sorry for himself for
having caused the bloodbath that he denounced so heartily. He would probably repent having written his
novels, assuming, of course, that his fiction was responsible for the Revolution.
I should like to give another example from Philippine history of an interpretation that is dubious but
not necessarily wrong. I refer to a Marxist’s interpretation that Bonifacio represented the revolutionary force

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and Aguinaldo the counter-revolutionary force. I find no justification in presenting an ideological polarity with
reference to the two great heroes of the Revolution. Bonifacio was not only a revolutionary but also a
revolutionist. So was Aguinaldo. Both believed in revolution as the only way, in the context of period, of
solving the Philippine problem. Aguinaldo could not have been a counter-revolutionary, for he favored the
radical steps taken by Bonifacio to bring about the Revolution. He and Bonifacio differed not only in ideology,
but in dealing with those who committed mistakes in the revolutionary camp. Bonifacio was for punishing
them severely; Aguinaldo was for the humane treatment of the erring Filipinos in order not to divide the ranks
of the revolutionists. I see no ideological polarity here but only a simple case of disagreement.
It is therefore presumptuous of a person to call another wrong simply because the latter’s
interpretation differs from his interpretation. It is well for us to accept the fact that interpretation varies from
person to person and from time to time. Acceptance of this simple fact is a proof of tolerance.