One Week with Carlo Ginzburg

（以下是我聽義大利史學家Carlo Ginzburg到台灣中央研究院及台大歷史研究所演講的感想。）

The 2015 Fu Ssu-Nien Lectures （傅斯年講座） was awarded to Carlo Ginzburg, an Italian historian and a practitioner of microhistory. 

This was his first trip to Taiwan. He stayed for ten days, gave two lectures, joined one symposium and agreed to a conversation with students and faculty from the History Department of National Taiwan University (NTU). Before taking the flight back to Europe, he visited Hualien.

Like a fan, I followed all of Ginzburg's talks in Taipei, at the same time feeding my hunger for knowledge by watching all his talks on youtube. Chances came that I was able to ask him several questions at the conversation about colonial archives and philology, and they not only earned me a pleasant dinner with him and several faculty members from NTU and Academia Sinica on the last day, but also put me into contact with fellow historians that take interest in my research.

How fortunate and grateful! Yes, I take it as a call from History.

The main theme of Ginzburg's talks was "Exploring the Boundaries of Microhistory".

Recognized as one of the pioneers of microhistory, Ginzburg made it very clear that he in fact does not care much about that label, the discussion of which came an year or two later than his The Cheese and The Worms (1976). At an interview available on youtube, he defines Microhistory as a scope of research rather than a specific subject-matter; it concerns more with the way historical analyses are made than with the people analyzed in histories. Microhistory is a research method, not a bottom-up history or a history about marginal peoples. This method requires historians to analyze a single case in depth, be it a case of a silenced subject or a renowned regime. Writing about defeated or silenced figures is simply his personal interest:



Upon this basic, Ginzburg talked to his Taiwanese audience at Academia Sinica (Taipei, Taiwan) about the possibilities of doing Microhistory.

In "Traveling in Spirit: from Friuli to Siberia", he used his ongoing research to show how "indirect orientation" has opened his eyes to a comparison between the benandanti from his study of sixteenth-century inquisition archives and the shamans of the Siberia Tungus introduced by Russian anthropologist, S. M. Shirokogoroff. This comparison allowed him to glean more insights into a nocturnal ritual from bygone days.

Such comparative perspective did not just appear at Ginzburg's door. Instead, the Tungus shamans and Shirokogoroff were brought to him only much later by another Italian anthropologist Ernesto de Martino. That is why he called it "indirect orientation".

Although I do wonder this revisit to Ginzburg's previous study of the Italian benandanti might differ if his inspiration has come from elsewhere, it suffices to say here that comparison is essential to doing microhistory. As for the case to compare with, one can always find it at a reading experiment.

In "Unintentional Revelations: Reading History Against the Grain", Ginzburg shared his reflections (inspired by French historian Marc Bloch et al.) upon historical evidences or proofs and reminded his audience of looking for the 'unintentional', 'unwilling' clues, leaks or cracks in historical evidences. Throughout his career, such clues have come to him in various forms; a gap in dialogues, a footnote, a disagreeing genre, an inappropriate touch of the paintbrush, or a name. Whether the evidences were previously penned by an inquisitor or a colonist, leaks are always there for the sensitive mind. Difficult but always possible.

How do you exactly find the leaks? Ginzburg offered some tips,

1. establish the perspective under which historical evidences were made;
2. establish the impact of historical evidences;
3. watch out for the unforeseen results, and always be aware of the different;
4. either look for the single common trait shared by a number of different sources or take these sources as an ensamble and an open game.

'Experiment' is a key word in all of his talks. A good practitioner of history experiments with reading, source materials and writing. Comparison, clue-sensitivity and philology (a comprehensive approach to doing history) are his/her best weaponry. A narrative that gushes profusely out from his/her pen, yet continues elegantly upon the bed determined by proofs towards the ocean of truth (yes, singular form and no quotation mark) is his/her best reward.

People asked Ginzburg which of his own books he likes the most; he smiled and answered, "the next one".

I asked Ginzburg if he enjoys being a historian, he smiled and answered, 'what else then?'  'A novelist?' 'Haha, maybe'.

Haha. I know my question was dumb. But honestly, I enjoy such conversations with historians about peoples and societies so much more than any other! Well, for me personally, it may be the title of a Doctor; it may be the chance of traveling worldwide for sources and field trips; or it may even be the halo around the best professor or the best-selling author or the activist for indigenous causes. It may be all that and more. Definite, though, is the genuine contentment  of learning, knowing and growing out of doing and writing history.

Life of the mind. Yes, I call it the call from History.