"It is normal for politicians in all countries to profess themselves the pupils of history, anxious to draw the right lessons from her teaching"
About this Quote
Politicians love to cosplay as historians because it makes raw power sound like responsibility. Douglas Hurd’s line skewers that habit with an almost courtly dryness: “normal” reads as both descriptive and faintly damning, as if this performance is so routine it barely merits surprise. The verb “profess” does heavy lifting. It hints at a public declaration that may be more credential than conviction, less about studying the past than about being seen to be guided by it.
Hurd’s most pointed move is the sly personification of history as “her,” a teacher with lessons to give. That framing exposes the con: history doesn’t actually teach in clean, exam-ready morals. People select from it. They curate it. They weaponize it. By describing politicians as “anxious to draw the right lessons,” Hurd captures the psychological and strategic tension: they’re not merely learning, they’re anxious to land on a “right” that can justify a policy, a war, an austerity program, a compromise. Anxiety here isn’t intellectual humility; it’s the pressure of narrative control.
Context matters: Hurd is a late-20th-century British Conservative who lived through decolonization’s aftershocks, the Cold War’s moral theater, and Europe’s arguments about sovereignty and integration. In that world, “lessons of Munich,” “lessons of Suez,” and “lessons of the 1930s” were political currency. His sentence is a warning about that currency’s inflation. History becomes a ventriloquist’s dummy: its “teaching” conveniently aligns with whoever is speaking, while the messy, contradictory record stays offstage.
Hurd’s most pointed move is the sly personification of history as “her,” a teacher with lessons to give. That framing exposes the con: history doesn’t actually teach in clean, exam-ready morals. People select from it. They curate it. They weaponize it. By describing politicians as “anxious to draw the right lessons,” Hurd captures the psychological and strategic tension: they’re not merely learning, they’re anxious to land on a “right” that can justify a policy, a war, an austerity program, a compromise. Anxiety here isn’t intellectual humility; it’s the pressure of narrative control.
Context matters: Hurd is a late-20th-century British Conservative who lived through decolonization’s aftershocks, the Cold War’s moral theater, and Europe’s arguments about sovereignty and integration. In that world, “lessons of Munich,” “lessons of Suez,” and “lessons of the 1930s” were political currency. His sentence is a warning about that currency’s inflation. History becomes a ventriloquist’s dummy: its “teaching” conveniently aligns with whoever is speaking, while the messy, contradictory record stays offstage.
Quote Details
| Topic | Learning |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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