Well, OK; and of course it’s flattering for a professional historian like me to think so. At the very least it should boost the sales of our books, and our sense of superior wisdom. History isn’t only fun, but is also educative, useful, and indeed – if this familiar quotation is right – essential to the progress of humankind.

So far so good. What a noble band of men and women we are: working diligently to reveal the past in order to serve the future, and so to make for a better world! If only more people would take notice of us; would read my British Imperial: What the Empire Wasn’t, for example, and learn the lessons contained there. The real lessons, that is; which are not always the simplistic ones that are usually drawn from the past:  facile comparisons between Hitler and Saddam Hussein, for example (to justify the invasion of Iraq in 2003); and the many British imperial ones that are targeted in that last-named book of mine.

This in fact is one of the dangers of studying – or at least reading – history for present enlightenment. We can easily get it wrong. The popularisers of history invariably do; especially those with political agendas, like Sir Jacob Rees Mogg (The Victorians. Twelve Titans Who Forged Britain). But we professionals are also bound to make mistakes, more or less often; for the historical runes are nearly always difficult to read, confused and complicated, and hedged in by context, which requires further and deeper research; and so are hardly ever self-evident. And that’s before our own preferences, slants and prejudices – born of present times, our social or national identities, and our personal inclinations – are factored in. This is why there is so much debate and disagreement among us ‘proper’ historians. Most of us have doubts. I’m not sure that I’m right about many of things I’ve researched and written about. But isn’t that – doubt – in the nature of academic research in most fields? And in fact a crucial path towards – even if it never reaches it – historical ‘truth’?

This must be frustrating for those of our readers who want and expect clearer answers to emerge from our (usually expensively state-financed) studies. But at least we can do two useful things. The first is point out obvious and possibly dangerous errors in the popular versions of history. (Errors can be established in a way truths rarely can.) The second is to reveal the crucial complexity of history. With any luck that could encourage our readers to be more aware of the complexities of their own societies and polities; which is probably the most valuable practical ‘lesson’ that can be drawn from a study of history, and a way of avoiding being ‘doomed to repeat it’, in the way that George Santayana (as I’ve been told) warned us against with that quote. What this teaches us is to be careful of the kind of history we are seeking enlightenment from, and not to expect too much from it, even if it’s the ‘best’ kind (e.g. mine).

But beyond that, there’s also an argument for saying that any sort of historical awareness is likely to do more harm than good in most situations, if folk rely on it too much. People, communities and nations are not the products of their histories; or, at least, not as much as they are of the situations they find themselves in their present times. Too much history can injure and even destroy the relations between peoples; as they did during the Northern Irish ‘Troubles’ of the last century, and are still doing in the Israel-Hamas war of the present time. Of course rival historical memories and myths were not the sole causes of these conflicts; but they undoubtedly aggravated them. If they could be forgotten, excised from the minds of the participants (especially the Zionists’ ludicrous claim that God – no less – had promised Palestine to them all those years ago), then Protestants, Catholics, Arabs and Jews would still have things to divide them and fight about; but their problems might be easier to solve. In both these cases, ‘history’, good and bad, has been a deeply maleficent force. It is history that is ‘dooming’ us; not the lack of it. Which may seem an odd argument from a professional historian – but there it is.