History is critical: Addressing the false dichotomy between historical inquiry and criticality

ABSTRACT

This article discusses the false dichotomy between criticality and historical inquiry. We argue that adding “critical” to “historical inquiry” can be interpreted as something distinct, instead of integral, to historical inquiry. It can normalize the idea that historical thinking is not critical, which, in turn, upholds the illusion that historical inquiry research is not inherently ideological or political. It inadvertently reifies a false dichotomy that silos historical inquiry scholarship into two camps: one that is deemed political because it directly engages in criticality and another that is deemed apolitical because it claims objectivity. We make three assertions: historical inquiry is already critical; history education research and critical scholarship share common commitments; and historical thinking should embrace the tension and other forms of knowledge as necessary to developing as a field. We conceptualize this tension as a space of possibility that repairs the marginalization of and centers Black, Indigenous, Latinx, and Asian American knowledge.

KEYWORDS:

• Critical historical inquiry
• historical inquiry
• history education research
• race/ethnicity

I am sad to report that at the college and university level, social studies education remains frozen in its old paradigms as it was in the late 1960s. The governance, research agenda, knowledge production … look very much like it looked more than 30 years ago … The failure of the social studies to meaningfully engage in dialogue about one of the nation’s persistent social justice issues is not surprising. However, it is disappointing. (Ladson-Billings, 2003, pp. 5–8)

Much has changed since Gloria Ladson-Billings’s initial critique of the field’s unwillingness to engage with race/ethnicity. There are more Scholars of Color and a growing scholarship on race/ethnicity in social studies education. However, some of the old paradigms continue to be frozen in time. In some ways, the field is still divided about how to engage in conversations about race/ethnicity and systems of power and oppression. This article takes up Ladson-Billings’s call to engage in meaningful dialogue about these divisions to address decades-old issues in the field.

Almost 10 years after Ladson-Billings’s critiques of social studies education, Salinas et al. (2012) addressed similar concerns regarding the lack of social justice in history pedagogy. They argued that when history is taught in schools it usually lacks a critical analysis of race, class, gender, and sexuality. Thus, they identified a need to reconceptualize historical thinking as an opportunity to expose and challenge oppressive power structures. Salinas et al. (2012) referred to this reconceptualization as “critical historical thinking.” In this context, “critical” refers to developing a consciousness of how power shapes our study of the past. The term “critical historical inquiry” comes from a need to emphasize the critical aspect of historical inquiry.

Continuing with their analysis, we expand Salinas et al.’s (2012) analysis to history education scholarship. We argue that the term “critical historical inquiry” reaffirms a false dichotomy between criticality and historical inquiry.¹ The addition of “critical” to “historical inquiry” can be interpreted as something distinct, instead of integral, to historical inquiry. It can normalize the idea that historical thinking is not critical, which, in turn, upholds the illusion that historical inquiry research is not inherently ideological or political. It inadvertently reifies a false dichotomy that silos historical inquiry scholarship into two camps: one that is deemed political because it directly engages in criticality and another that is deemed apolitical because it claims objectivity. The “apolitical” historical inquiry camp focuses primarily on the development of historical thinking skills with no explicit purpose beyond cognitive development for understanding history. In contrast, the critical historical inquiry camp uses historical thinking skills to analyze power dynamics in relation to race/ethnicity, gender/sexuality, and class.

We argue that the dichotomy is neither this rigid nor this simple. We are not saying that historical inquiry does not need the term “critical” as a modifier but that it should not need that term. Hence, rather than investing further in the divisions, we propose bolstering the field of historical inquiry research as a whole.

To dispel this false dichotomy, we address this tension by putting these two camps in dialogue through which we make three assertions. First, historical inquiry is already critical. Through a review of the literature, we show that different types of criticality are already embedded across historical inquiry research. Second, historical inquiry research should be critical because history education and critical scholarship share common commitments. We put the camps in conversation with each other to identify their shared commitments to criticality despite the difference between the two. Third, we argue for a self-reflective and expansive approach to history education that acknowledges the tension between dominant and marginalized forms of knowledge. We conceptualize this tension as a space of possibility that repairs how non-dominant forms of knowledge have been marginalized.

This last claim is our theoretical contribution to the field and our attempt to challenge the old paradigms of 50 years ago that Ladson-Billings critiqued. We present a path forward that emphasizes accountability toward equity and inclusion within the field, as well as asking scholars to contextualize their positionality within present systems of power. To expand the conversation to create a space of possibility, the field must first break down knowledge hierarchies and acknowledge how each camp is ideological. Then, we need to explore our shared commitments to criticality. Criticality should be understood as deeply integrated in what we already do as a field and as a necessary driving force for moving forward. Collectively, we should understand our work as critical because critique is central to historical inquiry.

Positionality

We come to this article as Researchers of Color who engage with both historical inquiry and race/ethnicity. One of us (Dozono) is a scholar trained in more of the critical theory tradition. The other (Santiago) is trained in a more skills-oriented approach. We look at the same problems yet address them from different theoretical approaches. Our training situates us as experts in our field who, despite having distinct orientations, have encountered tension regarding how we address race/ethnicity through historical inquiry. Although the article broadly addresses systemic power dynamics, we use race/ethnicity as our principal example because both of our research centers issues of race/ethnicity in history education.

This article is the result of being in conversation with each other about feeling like we have had to straddle this line. We come to this article as scholars who are both skeptical of the divisions that were created and want to reconcile these differences. Our research has blended race/ethnicity and historical inquiry. As such, we do not see these tensions in the same way that others might. This article is about holding a mirror to ourselves as a field to explore the perceived tensions and the possibilities of how the field can grow if we were to engage dialogue across differences.

The relationship between criticality and historical inquiry

In this section, we briefly introduce the role of criticality in both the skills-focused historical inquiry and the critical historical inquiry approaches. We conceptualize a skills-focused approach as one that emphasizes thinking skills and a critical approach as one that considers the historical positionality of the reader and encourages a self-reflective process. Despite these differences, we argue that criticality informs both approaches.

Skills-focused historical inquiry

Inquiry, in its broadest sense, is the process of asking and answering questions. Within the scientific method, inquiry also involves a commitment to pursuing answers despite what you hypothesize, assume, or want to find (Pedaste et al., 2015). Research on skills-focused historical inquiry aims to get students to act like historians by teaching them the skills and tools historians use to answer historical questions.

History education researchers have distilled the essence of the discipline within a distinct set of thinking skills, the tools through which historians methodically engage their craft. There are various definitions of inquiry, but at its core, it is “asking questions, gathering and evaluating relevant evidence, and reaching conclusions based on that evidence” (Barton & Levstik, 2004, p. 188). The field has generally agreed on the process of historical inquiry, even if scholars have identified different types of skills. For example, Seixas and Morton (2012) identified six historical thinking concepts: establishing historical significance, using primary source evidence, identifying continuity and change, analyzing cause and consequence, taking historical perspectives, and understanding the ethical dimension of historical interpretations. Wineburg (2001) identified sourcing, contextualization, corroboration, and close reading as key historical thinking skills. There are other skills, such as contextual historical empathy (Endacott & Brooks, 2013), that are less agreed upon in the field but that some scholars believe are necessary to help students analyze the past. Collectively, this scholarship has been imperative for helping push the field away from rote memorization of facts and toward mastering the skills of professional historians.

This body of scholarship tends to focus on a set of identifiable and measurable skill outcomes. For example, De Groot-reuvekamp et al.’s (2018) study distilled students’ developmental understanding of historical time into five objectives, each measured as “emergent, initial, and continued” understanding. This form of historical inquiry remains irrespective of the historian’s positionality and frames this set of thinking skills as objective and universally applicable to all students. “It tends to marginalize the analysis of students’ management of personal values and emotions” (Bermúdez, 2012, p. 204) on the basis that a nonobjective approach to analyzing the past is less rigorous and impedes historical reasoning.

Critical historical inquiry

Critical historical inquiry differs from historical inquiry that emphasizes thinking skills. The former complicates the skills-oriented approach in three major ways, as articulated by Salinas et al. (2016): first, question dominant narratives promoted across secondary sources and emphasizing primary sources; second, account for historical positionality of the historian in the present; and third, engage in a self-reflexive practice in order to acknowledge how one’s position impacts their engagement with historical texts.

First, critical historical inquiry is attuned to issues of power, specifically questioning the types of historical narratives often taught in schools. Salinas et al. (2012) reminded us that K-12 historical content is not neutral. It is, in fact, an arm of the state. As they noted, “The official school narrative is a manifestation of nation building—a way in which nations opt to describe their victorious and benevolent selves” (p. 19). History, the subject matter, is more concerned with reaffirming stories of national identity than developing students who question such narratives and their exclusion from history. Critical historical inquiry challenges narratives of progress by focusing on inequitable power dynamics and centering the histories of historically marginalized communities. Applying criticality to history, the subject matter, means asking questions about where knowledge comes from and how power and privilege impact the learning of history. Without this criticality, history education leads to exclusions, misrepresentations, and history as a form of control (Salinas et al., 2012).

Second, in contrast to a historical inquiry approach that emphasizes skills, critical historical inquiry begins with the premise that the “reader does not arrive before the evidentiary trail of primary sources tabula rasa but instead with a particular interpretive lens that is fundamental to the process of formulating historical conclusions” (Salinas et al., 2016, p. 268). Skills-based historical inquiry often does not emphasize the positionality of the historian in the present, creating the appearance of a neutral historian capable of universal objectivity. In contrast, critical historical inquiry accounts for the subjectivity of the historian in the present and how students’ prior experiences and knowledge inform their historical interpretations.

Third, Salinas et al. (2012) emphasized the importance of self-reflexivity. Engaging in self-reflection is a necessary practice to develop teachers’ capacity to “confront [their] discomfort with race, class, and gender” (Salinas et al., 2012, p. 19). Blevins and Salinas (2012) applied the term “critical” in their findings to differentiate those teachers who, despite enacting engaging curricula intended to promote critical historical thinking, sidestep that criticality. What makes this theoretical contribution unique is that it asks teachers to consider their own historical positionality. In asking that teachers confront their unwillingness to engage with certain subject matters and consider power dynamics, Salinas et al. (2012) encouraged teachers to engage in their own development.

For example, whereas one teacher might use “primary sources to provide multiple perspectives, more complete renditions of the past, and connections between history and contemporary society … . another social studies teacher [might use] historical inquiry with a more emancipatory goal in mind” (Blevins & Salinas, 2012, p. 18). One can be inclusive and diverse and yet not engage in an analysis of power and liberation. Although Blevins and Salinas referred to self-reflexivity exclusively in regards to teachers, we will argue the need to extend this approach to scholars.

Salinas et al. (2012) are not the only ones who have highlighted the importance of emphasizing “critical” in historical inquiry. Sibbett and Au (2018) used the term “critical” to distinguish social justice-oriented social studies from mainstream social studies education. Reisman et al. (2020) distinguished disciplinary and critical literacy “from what we broadly perceive to be the dominant perspectives in the existing literature on history and social studies instruction (Monte-Sano & Reisman, 2016)” (p. 5). Crowley and King (2018) also identified elements of critical historical thinking that align with Salinas et al.’s (2012) approach. Despite using distinct terms, they all agree on the exploration of inequitable power dynamics.

Crowley and King (2018) share the most similarities with Salinas et al. (2012), both approaches delineating a difference between inquiry that focuses thinking skills and history from a critical perspective. First, both emphasized that historical knowledge is not neutral, and therefore, a critical approach to inquiry should ask students to question systems of power. Second, both highlighted the importance of including perspectives and voices that challenge the existing school curriculum. The major distinction between the two approaches is Salinas et al.’s (2012) third component of critical historical inquiry: teacher self-reflexivity.

We agree with Salinas et al.’s (2012) argument that historical inquiry can and should encourage criticality. However, we believe it is imperative to discuss the context that necessitated the need for the term along with its unintended consequences. The next section describes the disjuncture.

Criticality informs historical inquiry

Having defined critical historical inquiry and skills-focused historical inquiry, we see commonalities in how criticality is used in both approaches. The term “critical” signifies an analytic practice of critique that intervenes into status quo power relations and knowledge formations. “Critical” can be used as a marker of political and social justice but can also refer to critical thinking skills (e.g., C3 Framework, National Council for the Social Studies [NCSS], 2013). In its broadest sense, critique relies on a process of posing questions to interrogate the quality of an argument for clarity, coherence, and flaws or inconsistencies. Criticality involves a process of asking questions and pursuing answers to those questions despite what one hypothesizes, assumes, or wants to find. As Cleo Cherryholmes (1982), the founding editor of Theory & Research in Social Education, explained, “Criticism is needed to disclose and peel back the layers of value and commitment embedded in interpretations and explanations. Criticism does not lead to value free knowledge claims but instead surfaces, analyzes, and scrutinizes existing values” (p. 61). Whereas all inquiry ought to attend to power dynamics as a variable factor influencing one’s answer, criticality is added to inquiry to ensure that power dynamics are attended to. In this sense, both criticality and inquiry have to do with questioning, which is the lens that we use to interpret the literature.

Analytical approach

With the purpose to expand on the previous research and critique the field in the wake of such work, we remind ourselves of our scholarly roots. We reacquaint ourselves with what historians and social studies scholars have said about the purpose of history and history education, offering a theoretical and historical contextualization of criticality in history education. By building on the work of our social studies scholarly elders, we remind the field that historical inquiry without a liberatory purpose is not the norm. We take us back to the future: reminding us of our past purpose to move the field forward. We rely on history education scholarship as evidence of the state of the field to demonstrate that research critical of systemic power dynamics (and race/ethnicity, in particular) is not distinct from the discipline.

The following section weaves together different research within history education, pointing to overarching shared commitments to forms of criticality despite different emphases. Acknowledging a shared commitment both promotes future dialogue between approaches and how they inform each other. This theoretical and historical contextualization of criticality and history education aims to realign the field with relevancy amidst broader societal changes. We rely on the work of history education scholars and historians to outline how the purpose of history can and should align with criticality.

Three purposes of history education

To discuss the relationship between critical historical inquiry and skills-focused historical inquiry requires that we take a step back and consider the broader context in which these two concepts exist. History education, and historical inquiry in particular, has a purpose beyond learning content and skills. Historical inquiry can have a social justice approach (Salinas et al., 2012), prepare students to participate in a pluralistic democracy (Barton & Levstik, 2004), or develop informed citizens (Wineburg, 2016). We describe these three purposes, highlighting their differences. Although each is a distinct goal, they all feed into the same larger purpose: encouraging students to develop as critical investigators of history. These skills must not be isolated for individuals, but rather, they should be addressed contextually within larger societal systems of power.

History education for social justice

A social justice approach to history education includes advocating for historically marginalized groups and emphasizing the importance of structural changes (DeLeon & Ross, 2010; Martell & Stevens, 2021; Metzger & Harris, 2018; Nelson & Pang, 2014; Ross, 1999; Sibbett & Au, 2018). Although scholars posit slightly different approaches, what ultimately unites them is advocating for social justice.

These scholars argued that social studies is uniquely situated to directly engage with issues of discrimination. As Nelson and Pang (2014) poignantly highlighted, “The social studies curriculum is the primary location in schools for inquiry into contemporary issues of prejudice. No other school subject has that civic mission” (p. 203). This charge is something that the field has struggled to engage with, despite its general commitment to upholding democratic values and challenging prejudice.

Historical inquiry, in particular, has the potential to analyze the contexts in which injustices develop and thrive (Martell & Stevens, 2021). As Metzger and Harris (2018) noted, “The study of history should be a way to challenge social inequalities by exposing the historically constructed nature of oppressive institutions. Historical thinking … should empower learners to promote social justice for historically marginalized identities and greater equality” (p. 8). Such an approach asks students to not only identify injustices, but also address the structural issues of class, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, racism, and islamophobia (Martell & Stevens, 2021). Such analysis inherently requires critiques of power dynamics, structures, and institutions. In this sense, we argue that there is a consensus among these scholars with Salinas et al.’s (2016) definition of critical historical thinking as emphasizing “perspective taking that may complicate, nuance or run contrary to a dominant school curriculum by emphasizing racism, classism, sexism and other ‘isms’ … as well as their agency in response to such acts” (p. 265). The aims of historical inquiry for social justice are in alignment with criticality.

History education for civic participation

Other scholars have taken a slightly distinct approach from history education for social justice, arguing that history education has civic purpose. History education researchers have long been concerned with the links between history education and citizenship. Wineburg (1991) referred to historical thinking as an “unnatural act” in large part because it asks people to go against what they think they know about history. Instead of turning to what they know, historical inquiry requires people to think critically about the histories they hear. Although the emphasis is on disciplinary skills and analysis, its real purpose is preparing students and teachers “for the vocation of citizen” (Wineburg, 2016, p. 16).

Others before and after Wineburg have argued that history education serves a purpose beyond simply learning skills and historical content. As Endacott and Brooks (2018) stated, “If students simply … communicate historical understanding without any sort of appreciable impact upon their provincial democratic behavior then … the key goals of history education has not been met. We believe that history educators foster citizenship” (p. 208). Similarly, Barton and Levstik (2004) argued that “history’s place in the curriculum must be justified in terms of its contributions to democratic citizenship—citizenship that is participatory, pluralist, and deliberative—and its practices must be structured to achieve that end” (p. 40). In this sense, history education, specifically inquiry, is meant to prepare students to become active citizens in the United States democratic processes.

Although historical inquiry is an invitation to civic participation, it is not without its limitations. K-12 historical narratives inform children who counts as a citizen and what is considered legitimate civic participation, often eschewing historically marginalized communities and their collective agency (Lo, 2019; Vickery, 2017b; Woodson, 2017). Here is where Ladson-Billings’s (2003, 2004) and Salinas et al.’s (2012, 2016) emphasis on including the history of historically marginalized people would help expand who is considered a civic participant.

History education for independent thinking

To fully and effectively engage in a pluralistic democracy or fight for justice, one needs to be a critical consumer of the past. Put another way, one needs to be an independent thinker who neither falls prey to believing nor reproducing hegemonic master narratives.² These narratives include those that are not only present in curricular materials, but also those put forth by educators, politicians, and historians (Barton & Levstik, 2004). Learning to think critically about such narratives does not simply happen; it requires one to develop a set of skills. Wineburg (1991) described this process as being “called on to engage in historical thinking—called on to see human motive in the texts … to mine truth from the quicksand of innuendo, half-truth, and falsehood” (p. 518). The emphasis in this process is not what to think, but how to analyze for the underlying rationale in human constructed histories—why people chose to commemorate certain events over others and why people choose to memorialize them in such a way. Such analysis invites students to be suspect of not only the narrative, but also who delivers the narrative, lest they become suspect of history textbooks but not their preferred teachers (Bain, 2006).

The goal is neither to make students into young historians nor cynics, but rather independent thinkers. This goal does not mean educators replace antiquated master narratives with new “politically correct” narratives. To the contrary, it requires educators not replace a narrative at all and instead encourage students to scrutinize the past to develop their own conclusions. As Barton and Levstik (2004) aptly wrote, “preparing [students] to take part in collaborative discourse about the common good cannot be accomplished by tightly controlled, teacher-centered instruction. These goals can only be achieved when students take part in meaningful and relevant historical inquiries” (p. 260).

This is not to say that the goal is to develop an informed citizen or a social justice-oriented one. They are not binaries. To be a socially justice-oriented person requires being informed and critical of what one consumes. However, one can be an informed citizen and still feel no desire to strive for an equitable society. The goal is for students “to grow into citizens who have the skills necessary to reach intelligent decisions on matters of public policy. … our society will be more democratic—and therefore more equitable and just-if students learn to do these” (Barton & Levstik, 2004, p. 30). The overlapping nature of these three different approaches is that they all rely on developing students’ critical thinking. In this sense, being an informed and free-thinking person is related to both participating in a democracy and striving for justice, but they are each still distinct. Herein lies an important difference between critical thinking and criticality: the former is a cognitive act, whereas the latter is an analysis of how power functions in relation to texts and is about larger social systems and individuals (including ourselves).

Discussion

Historical inquiry is critical

Given the overlap between the purposes of history education, we believe that the perceived differences between skills-focused historical inquiry and critical historical inquiry erroneously allows scholars to assume that historical inquiry does not have to engage with criticality or justice. Although there are distinct history education goals, we momentarily focus on the commonalities which serve the discipline as a whole. When we say historical inquiry is critical, we mean that criticality is embedded within the foundations of historical inquiry. As early as 1991, Cherryholmes argued that all research is critical (Nelson & Stanley, 2013). If the goal of history education is to prepare students to become informed independent thinkers, participants of a pluralistic democracy, or advocates for justice, then the scholars who engage in history education research should acknowledge the role of criticality in their work.

One of the central lineages of criticality in the social sciences, as Crowley and King (2018) pointed out, stems from critical theory: “Critical theory pays special attention to the social world, focusing on the hierarchical nature of social relations and examining how these unequal power relationships lead to privilege for some and oppression for others” (p. 14). Although many in the skills-focused historical inquiry camp have not explicitly used the term “critical,” their citational lineages nonetheless reflect an overlapping commitment to critiques of how power shapes knowledge (Bakhtin, 1981; Vygotsky, 1972/2012), and historical knowledge in particular (Mink, 1969/1987; Novik, 1988; Wertsch, 1985). Two important works that have influenced historical contextualization (and as cited in Wineburg, 2001) are Darnton’s (1984/2009) The Great Cat Massacre and Ginzburg’s (1980/1992) The Cheese and the Worms, both of which have critically addressed how social class shapes (and limits) our access to historical contexts of the past.

We reframe historical inquiry as inclusive of the following two aspects of criticality inherent to both approaches. Within the skills-focused historical inquiry camp, criticality takes the form of critical thinking skills, and utilizes a tools-oriented approach to inquiry. This camp asserts that by teaching students to use this set of tools, we will know students are doing historical inquiry. Within the critical historical inquiry camp, criticality takes the form of approaching history with attention to power and privilege. This form is process-oriented and emphasizes asking certain questions about how power functions throughout the process of studying history. These two aspects of criticality need not be exclusionary of the other but ought to inform all historical inquiry in tandem.

One area of history education research that addresses both aspects of criticality is historical consciousness, which pairs criticality and historical inquiry to help students analyze the role of history in our present. Historical consciousness engages “individual and collective understandings of the past, the cognitive and cultural factors that shape those understandings, as well as the relations of historical understandings to those of the present and the future” (Seixas, 2004, p. 10). Seixas’ (2004) framing of historical consciousness brings into conversation both the disciplinary skills approach focused on the cognitive skills of the individual, as well as the critical historical inquiry approach emphasizing cultural and collective phenomena and experiences which orient the student in the present in how they interpret the past. Historical thinking can provide students with a set of skills necessary to scrutinize the past and how history can serve different purposes. Trofanenko (2008) argued that “developing a historical consciousness requires moving from … a simple acceptance of a historical interpretation … [to] being able to historicize, or place into a historical context, an interpretation of an event” (p. 584). To go from one form of analysis to another requires applying historical thinking skills to interpret history. Students have the opportunity to develop these skills through historical inquiry, which asks students to engage in a historical problem and analyze primary and secondary sources to address a historical question (Barton & Levstik, 2004; Seixas & Morton, 2012; Wineburg, 2001). It is in this sense that we claim that one cannot analyze the past and its implications for the present without some form of criticality.

Historical inquiry is a set of tools in this effort, asking students to source documents, corroborate evidence, contextualize, and question the narrativization of history (Barton & Levstik, 2004; Salinas et al., 2012; Seixas & Morton, 2012; Wineburg, 2016). To consider the source of a document, one must ask questions about authorship: how the author is situated in relation to the story, who is meant to read the story, and for what reason (VanSledright, 2015). To contextualize requires students situate a document in the social, cultural, and political climate of the time. To question the narrativization process, one must understand its construction process (White, 1973) and what stories are considered valid and for what reason. These are questions related to power and agency. To do each of these well requires attention to the aspects of criticality that Salinas et al. (2012) articulated. It is in this way that critical and historical thinking function as entry points to more sophisticated understandings about power.

One can analyze the past without being aware that one is examining power dynamics, but one cannot engage in historical inquiry without addressing power dynamics. Historical thinking encourages one to be critical about what one reads, the purpose of what is written, and who benefits. Of course, historical inquiry and criticality are not the same, but the “two frameworks employed together provide productive synergy” (Abdou, 2016, p. 228). In this sense, it is hard to argue that historical inquiry can exist without criticality. In the case of both authors, we have been led to believe in a false binary that forces us to choose between centering our research on race/ethnicity or history. On the contrary, what makes scholarship on historical thinking and race/ethnicity meaningful is that it explicitly focuses on race/ethnicity to help scholars, educators, and students understand systemic racism.

Salinas et al.’s (2012) articulation of criticality in historical thinking is apparent throughout each of these components of historical inquiry. Critiquing the master narrative, engaging sources and content at the margins of narratives, and self-reflexive practices of understanding one’s role and limitations, ultimately are all linked to good historical thinking practices. Salinas et al. (2012) highlighted how criticality already exists in history education research. As a highlighter takes what is already on the page and makes it more visible, we highlight criticality to emphasize a central component of historical inquiry often dismissed or overlooked because it is understood as separate or different from historical inquiry. Criticality is an already embedded component essential to the discipline.

Not the same, but common ground

There are those who would disagree with us arguing a connection between historical thinking and criticality. We do not mean to say these two are the same. For example, it does not mean that historical inquiry research that does not explicitly claim criticality is automatically addressing critiques of power and their own ideological commitments. Instead, we emphasize the importance of being in conversation with each other, allowing each to inform and challenge the other in solidarity with common aims in mind. Burbules and Berk (1999) articulated this tension:

From the perspective of Critical Thinking, Critical Pedagogy crosses a threshold between teaching criticality and indoctrinating. Teaching students to think critically must include allowing them to come to their own conclusions; yet Critical Pedagogy seems to come dangerously close to prejudging what those conclusions must be. Critical Pedagogy sees this threshold problem conversely: indoctrination is the case already; students must be brought to criticality, and this can only be done by alerting them to the social conditions that have brought this about. (p. 54)

Rather than allow this tension to mark out divisive territory, we assert it as a productive tension that ought to lead each camp to understand their own limitations.

We are mindful to not equate the two, but historical inquiry cannot be taught without a purpose (Barton & Levstik, 2004). This point is, in fact, part of our criticism: historical inquiry cannot be “unbiased.” It can help students analyze the past and is a tool that can encourage them to think critically about its impact on the present. Is this scholarship aligned with the broader movement toward critical thinking? Yes. Does this work explicitly encourage students to be critical of power? Perhaps some scholars would not see their work in that way, but their research does inherently work in service of critical questions of power. The distancing of historical inquiry scholarship from those who label their work as “critical” is not only unnecessary but can also be damaging to the integrity of the discipline.

Historical thinking and criticality might not be perfectly aligned, but they are not in contradiction. There is common ground here. Both approaches advocate overlapping forms of criticality. According to Sibbett and Au (2018):

Social justice oriented social studies teaching does have some overlap with liberal social studies in that both value critical thinking and political autonomy. However, instead of making untenable claims to neutrality, social studies teachers favoring a social justice oriented … aim to expose how structures of power operate and are reproduced. (p. 6)

Framing historical inquiry solely as a cognitive exercise obscures its embedded criticality.

We extend our assertion that criticality is embedded across forms of historical inquiry to further address how all historical inquiry is ideological and political. Acknowledging both ideas dismantle the walls separating different camps from engaging in dialogue. For example, critical historical inquiry might be dismissed as ideological and political, leading some to think it is not rigorous, or less scientifically significant. Skills-based historical inquiry might be seen as overly apolitical and indifferent to social context, making it incapable of valuing the experiences and cultural assets of historically marginalized student populations. Acknowledging the ideological and political commitments across various historical inquiry camps allows for further spaces of dialogue.

Dozono’s (2018) analysis of narrativization through critical theory exposes this divide between social justice educators and historical thinking researchers. In Wineburg’s (2013) critique of Howard Zinn (1980), he pointed to how social studies teachers must be critical of narrativization, which ultimately aligns with a social justice critique of how power operates through narrative. However, in not taking an explicit political stance, Wineburg is interpreted as another example of historical inquiry as a cognitive exercise. The critique of power dynamics in the narrativization process gets missed, and instead, Wineburg’s analysis is seen as an attack on Zinn and critical pedagogy rather than a productive challenge. This perceived disagreement widens the communication gap between approaches in the history education research community, despite the alignment behind Wineburg and Zinn’s work: developing students’ capacity to smash idolized dominant historical narratives.

The three purposes of history education outlined earlier are each forms of ideological lenses. Unlike a social justice approach, an independent thinker approach does not make explicit its goals beyond cognitive purposes. It is what makes this approach “safe” and widely accepted in the NCSS (2013) C3 Framework, but it is also what social justice advocates critique. As Sibbett and Au (2018) argued, “Proponents [of independent thinking] often eschew an overtly ideological orientation toward building a more just world in favor of a supposedly logical orientation toward producing good critical thinkers” (p. 28). In attempting not to take an ideological stance, this approach is easily digestible to parents, educators, administrators, policy makers, and researchers. The limitation to this approach, as also seen in the Wineburg example, is that when historical inquiry is seen as exclusively a scholarly or cognitive pursuit, it can erase the role of power structures and systemic oppression. In this manner, rigor does not necessarily make history ideologically neutral (Haste & Bermúdez, 2017). Here is how a social justice-oriented history education is distinct: it “wears its ideology on its sleeve” (Sibbett & Au, 2018, p. 19). The goals are explicit, which is often the reason why such content is critiqued as being “biased.” However, there is no neutrality in research; the only distinction here is that a social justice approach is upfront in its purpose. Claiming an absence of an ideological lens is in itself an ideological lens.

We acknowledge that there is an ideological disposition involved in scholars taking a social justice approach. Although it is inherently impossible to engage in historical inquiry without addressing power dynamics, it is, however, possible to whitewash those power dynamics. Researchers must want to point out these power dynamics in their scholarship.

Despite shared commitments to criticality, some skills-focused historical inquiry research may unwittingly promote claims of objectivity and with no intentions of political commitments. In the aim to create scientifically sound studies of how students might practice historians’ skills, some studies then present a universal student, devoid of social context. For example, skills-based historical inquiry research that supports students to contextualize the past through historical perspective-taking (Huijgen et al., 2017) or understanding timelines (De Groot-reuvekamp et al., 2018) can inadequately contextualize students in the present and how their experiences with systemic racism, colonization, and other systemic forms of oppression predetermine their encounters with history. Critical approaches to science, including feminist standpoint theory (Harding, 1991), encourage accounting for the positionality of the researcher in the present and how their identities shape their analytic lens.

Clearly, we argue for what Sibbett and Au (2018) termed as social justice oriented social studies as it relates to history. However, one does not jump from a state-sanctioned history approach to social justice. There are specific skills necessary to analyze how systems of power and oppression function in history. We believe criticality and historical thinking are part of the larger process of critical historical inquiry and justice oriented social studies. They are not the same, but they could be all part of the same effort.

Here is where those in the criticality approach can push historical thinking researchers to engage in more self-reflexive critical practices. Scholars who are not engaged in race/ethnicity should first reflect on why they have chosen to ignore race/ethnicity, as that is itself an ideological stance and a political act. Researchers need to be explicit about their political choice to ignore race/ethnicity in their work. Just as Blevins and Salinas (2012) pointed to the difficulty for teachers to engage in self-reflexive practice, researchers also struggle to engage in self-reflexivity, to be critical of one’s own position in contemporary power structures. Bartolome (2004) referred to this process as gaining political and ideological clarity (in reference to educators). For researchers, it also means becoming increasingly conscious of the role of power dynamics in our scholarship: who we cite, which knowledges we privilege, and how we do or do not engage with systemic power dynamics in our research. In the following section, we propose a more dialogic approach that embraces these tensions.

Historical thinking as a space of possibility

We propose a space of possibility, one inspired by bell hooks (2000), Anzaldúa’s (1987/1999) Borderlands/La Frontera, and Henry Giroux’s (1992) Border Crossings. The space of possibility is that liminal space wherein scholars are encouraged to transcend boundaries and productively engage in dialogue about their similarities and differences, points of disagreement and congruence. Drawing on Anzaldúa (1987/1999), this space of possibility encourages “divergent thinking, characterized by movement away from set patterns and goals and toward a more whole perspective, one that includes rather than excludes. … developing a tolerance for contradictions, a tolerance for ambiguity” (p. 101). For history education, it means defying binaries and rigidity that privilege western forms of knowledge which have prevented the field from developing complex understandings of history and historical thinking. We envision a version of historical thinking that is not singular nor static but rather always shifting to the needs of distinct communities. In this sense, we are not advocating a third option to the cognitive and social justice approaches. This space of possibility is one where these two come together, acknowledging their tension yet understanding that they are interrelated.

In this space of possibility, we do not expect scholars to dismiss their preexisting understanding of historical thinking. Instead, we ask that scholars engage in a critical exchange of ideas, reconsider their previous limited conceptions of what counts as historical thinking, and open themselves to other forms of knowledge. Such a space of possibility requires that scholars look beyond their seemingly different vocabularies and seek overlapping ideas and interests.

We see potential for this space of possibility in historical consciousness scholarship which bridges this perceived divide between criticality and historical inquiry. Abdou (2016) asserted the overlap between history education and criticality, stating that historical consciousness is “concerned with how we critically make sense of the past to inform our present and future … critical pedagogy is concerned, at least in part, with gaining a sense of agency through problematizing and denaturalizing historical power asymmetries and injustices” (p. 228).³ Whereas a disciplinary skills approach to history might use the concept of historical contextualization to historicize power dynamics, critical pedagogy uses the concept of consciousness-raising to cultivate students’ attention to unequal power dynamics. Historical consciousness, as Abdou framed it, engages such concepts in conversation with each other, highlighting their congruent concerns. Some education researchers (e.g., L. J. King, 2019; Reich, 2020) have also noted that the European focus of much research on historical consciousness limits its applicability to other learning contexts. Reich’s (2020) study on historical monuments in racially charged Richmond, Virginia accounted for this limitation by addressing “how historical consciousness and identity are related to each other in unequal, heterogeneous societies,” such as the United States (pp. 2–3). To resolve this limitation, Reich supplemented historical consciousness research with L. J. King’s (2019) conceptualization of Black historical consciousness. L. J. King theorized Black historical consciousness by bringing historical consciousness work in conversation with Black Crit (Dumas & Ross, 2016) and diaspora literacy (J. E. King, 1992). As L. J. King (2019) noted, “Black historical consciousness seeks to examine how people not only understand Black history but also, and maybe more prominent, what it means to be Black in a historic sense” (p. 371). The work of scholars including Abdou, Reich, and L. J. King exemplify how this space of possibility can bring seemingly disparate areas of research into productive conversation, furthering the field as a whole.

Such a flexible theoretical space encourages the inclusion of marginalized lineages of knowledge, which is imperative given how the field has subjugated Black, Indigenous, Latinx,⁴ and Asian American knowledge. When we propose inclusion, we do not mean allowing for multiple but differing perspectives, a la “all voices matter.” Assimilating more voices and folding them into the center can once again erase these distinct forms of knowledge if they are dismembered from the people who they come from, stripped of their context, purpose, and meaning to their respective communities. We mean centering Black, Indigenous, Latinx, and Asian American knowledge, not in comparison or opposition to a white perspective—as that would be a reactionary response to the white gaze—but respecting their value in and of themselves.⁵ Thus, the challenge is to simultaneously move the field to be more expansive and yet respect these other forms of knowledge as unique and separate from whiteness.

Unapologetically centering intersectional critiques of power and historical inquiry

There is a growing number of Black, Indigenous, Asian American, and Latinx scholars who explore race/ethnicity in history education, but few engage with historical inquiry (e.g., Crowley & King, 2018; Dozono, 2021; Salinas et al., 2016; Santiago, 2019; Woodson, 2017). Black, Indigenous, Asian American, and Latinx scholars who center race/ethnicity in history education tend to focus on teacher education (Busey, 2020; Castro, 2022; Rodríguez, 2019; Rodríguez & Kim, 2019; Vickery & Salinas, 2019), historical consciousness (Abdou, 2016), or the way history intersects with other social studies subjects (Duncan, 2020; Vickery, 2021), which leads us to ask the field: Is this because historical inquiry has been framed on such narrow terms that Black, Indigenous, Asian American and Latinx scholars have decided to do work that centers intersectional approaches to knowledge elsewhere? As such, a space of possibility should consider scholarship that goes beyond historical inquiry to expand our understanding of how race/ethnicity functions and is positioned in our field.

Addressing contemporary power structures requires intersectional analysis, not only between historical inquiry and race, but analysis that accounts for the intersection of race, gender/sexuality, Indigeneity, and religion. Recent scholarship has brought historical inquiry and criticality together, modeling how historical inquiry can explicitly be used to engage students in critiquing and challenging systemic injustices. Nuancing, shining complexity, recentering historically marginalized people is the work of historians.

Scholars have recognized that the curriculum essentializes differences, pointing to possible approaches to missed historical complexities. These approaches have taken shape in various ways, including calling for an intersectional analysis of history (Vickery, 2017a). Other approaches have centered Blackness through a Black historical consciousness framework that addresses how to engage with history and historical inquiry through Black perspectives and epistemologies (L. J. King, 2019). Complicating simplistic U.S. notions of race/ethnicity are also beginning to emerge, highlighting Indigenous (Santiago, 2018) and African roots (Busey, 2019) of Latinx communities. Centering lived experiences, particularly “living in-between national, ethnic, racial, and gender worlds” (Aponte-Safe et al., 2022, p. 74) in social studies classrooms is another way that scholars aim to challenge normative narratives. Challenging a history curriculum that reinforces coloniality requires drawing on Indigenous ways of being and knowledge. History education scholars have drawn on these knowledges to challenge reductive notions of sexuality and gender. McCoy et al. (2019) noted that even when lessons aim to be more inclusive of women through “first woman” lessons, educators ignore the long history of Indigenous women who have held leadership positions, including President, Chairperson, or Chief, within their Native nations. Sheppard and Mayo (2013) specifically pointed to the notion of two spirits, people with both feminine and masculine spirits, to challenge western norms of sexuality. Dozono (2017) extended this argument, using Queer Theory and Indigenous knowledge systems to discuss non-binary identities in a world history classroom. These examples raise questions of who is doing the representing. It is because people from historically marginalized groups engage in this history education research that such nuances and other knowledges are highlighted.

Although history education scholars are highlighting missed complexities in the curriculum, this is still a nascent field. Most of this analysis, even when discussing sexuality and gender, has intersected with race/ethnicity. Other areas, such as how the world history curriculum essentializes Islam and ignores Muslim minorities (Merchant, 2018), are only now beginning to emerge.

The work of these scholars is at the forefront of the field because it unapologetically centers race/ethnicity and historical inquiry. There is no dichotomy, no need to choose one over the other, because they are intertwined. Their research is based on the scholarship of well-established history educators while taking the work in the direction that Ladson-Billings (2003, 2004) and Salinas et al. (2012, 2016) called on the field to engage.

Implications for the field

Moving toward a space of possibility that embraces criticality as part of historical inquiry requires that the field engage in self-reflection. Specifically, we speak to the need for history education researchers to apply the criticality they profess for classroom practice to their own scholarship. In this effort, we hold a mirror to ourselves, drawing parallels between the teaching we preach and the research we enact. Put bluntly, history education scholars need to better align their scholarly practice to the pedagogy we encourage in K-12 classrooms.

We encourage teachers to be self-reflective, but as researchers we must also follow suit. These inactions on behalf of the field are aptly described in Salinas et al.’s (2012) analysis on the lack of teacher reflection: “it is more than possible that preservice teachers may complete projects … and still deliberately maneuver around meaningful self-reflection and critical consciousness” (p. 26). It is more than possible for scholars to engage in history education and still maneuver around meaningful self-reflection that confronts our role in continuing to marginalize research regarding systems of power and oppression. Our approach is to welcome these scholars into the space of possibility to engage in conversation with other scholars who do. The goal is not to jump from denial to incorporating power dynamics in research, but to first reflect on (and engage in dialogue about) why they do not want to.

We actualize this self-reflection in the field by presenting three critical questions. The first is for those who do not research topics related to systems of power and oppression: Which type of knowledge do you privilege and why? The second question is for those scholars who already research topics related to historically marginalized populations: How are you engaging with historically marginalized populations in critical ways that address systemic power differentials? The final question asks us to consider how we are all implicated in perpetuating systemic inequities in our research methods and theory. We conclude the self-reflection section with ideas for how to organize and center other forms of knowledge.

Which type of knowledge do you privilege and why?

When people decide to prioritize certain knowledge, inevitably other knowledge gets marginalized. The decision of which history topics K-12 students should learn “must be made based on some criteria. … Toward that end, students should be exposed to historical topics that force them to consider issues of justice—the impact of racism, for example, or gender roles, dictatorship, warfare, colonialism, economic relations” (Barton & Levstik, 2004, p. 39). We extend this argument from educators to scholars. Similar to how teachers have to make decisions about the content they teach, scholars must make decisions about the topics they research and who they cite. Privileging certain knowledge over others is inevitable. This question prompts researchers to ask themselves, why not prioritize scholarship that contributes to both historical inquiry and issues of justice—race/ethnicity, for example?

The educator who centers historically marginalized histories teaches their students that these histories are central to the United States. The scholar who centers research on historically marginalized groups signals to the field that this research is central to history education scholarship. Social studies education improves when we decenter singular narratives, as does our research. The purpose of historiography is more than to identify gaps and advances in research; it must also criticize and analyze the context that facilitates normative stories (Florescano, 1980/2014). As Parker (1992) argued, “good education is multicultural education, that good science includes criticism as a matter of course, that good politics seeks to comprehend diversity, not stamp it out” (p. 499). But to do so, we must be open to reflection, criticism, and extending the field’s intellectual lineages. That, after all, is how paradigms shift and epistemologies evolve. As studies in historiography have shown, the disciplinary center frequently moves alongside social, political, and technical changes (Appleby et al., 1994; Breisach, 1983/2007; Iggers, 1997).

In part of this effort to evolve as a field, we must ensure that we are practicing critical skills in our scholarship. We must address our own biases in who we align ourselves with, who we cite, how we contextualize ourselves and our work, and how we put ourselves in conversation with others, especially those on the margins.

How are you engaging with historically marginalized populations in critical ways that address systemic power differentials?

Unlike the first question that asks scholars to consider why they privilege certain content over others, here we ask how scholars engage with that content. Both well-established scholars in the field and those who have been critical of the field have emphasized challenging oppression and injustice through history (e.g., Barton & Levstik, 2004; Howard, 2003; Nelson & Pang, 2014). As Metzger and Harris (2018) noted, “There seems to be widespread agreement that the study of history should be a way to challenge social inequalities by exposing the historically constructed nature of oppressive institutions” (p. 8). For example, if the teaching of race/ethnicity should focus on its systemic nature, then research should consider the same. History is not to be studied in a sociopolitical vacuum, nor is our research. Considering recent nationwide movements such as #MeToo (Burke, 2017) and #BlackLivesMatter (Garza, 2014), part of civic participation means being critical of one’s own capacity to truly listen to experiences of others beyond one’s sense of what one thinks is normal.

To do so, we first must identify how we and our work are positioned in the field. Levins Morales (1998) insisted that the historian identify their positionality throughout their work, as it inevitably influences the outcomes of historical scholarship: “Part of what keeps our work honest is acknowledging why we care about it and who we are in relationship to it” (p. 8). For history education researchers, this stance means repositioning historical inquiry as deeply embedded socially, to enable student-centered learning by linking historical inquiry to contextualizing students intersectionally amidst a matrix of social minoritizations and privileged positions. It also means that as scholars, we must engage in internal critiques that draw attention to forms of inquiry that might talk about race but still not consider the participant’s/scholar’s positionality and the way it plays a role in shaping that knowledge.

Second, we must consider how our own analysis and research practices can expose the systemic structures that perpetuate inequalities. We are not calling for larger sample sizes but rather different kinds of analysis. When we research teacher education, we must consider the local and national structures that play a role in poorly preparing educators to engage with systemic marginalization. Similarly, when we research curriculum, we must consider what structures perpetuate poor representation of historically marginalized groups.

How are we implicated in perpetuating systemic inequities in all aspects of research methods and theory?

These previous questions serve as scaffolding to grapple with the hard reality of how we perpetuate the false dichotomy between criticality and historical inquiry through our scholarship. We hold a mirror to scholarship which might talk about race but still not consider the participant’s/scholar’s positionality and the way it plays a role in shaping that knowledge. One can have race representation but still not engage full accountability with regards to power. Certain scholars have been deemed as part of the “critical” scholarship, but even that scholarship sidelines Black, Indigenous, Asian American, and Latinx knowledges because they are not considered as part of the long lineage of critical scholars given that some of these scholars existed well before Foucault (1984), Freire (1970), and the Frankfurt School. The field needs to redefine which scholarly lineages of criticality one expects to be cited and emphasize forms of criticality that arise from racialized experiences with oppression and being disempowered (as well as gendered, and other socially marginalized categories and identities). Opening up what is considered critical helps soften the division to facilitate further scholarly possibilities.

Conclusion

As history education scholars, we have often felt as though we must choose between doing research that emphasizes criticality or a disciplinary skills approach to historical inquiry because of how the field has privileged skills-oriented historical inquiry over that which confronts systems of power and oppression. Echoing Ladson-Billings, it is disappointing that some 20 years later, these divisions remain.

To challenge this dichotomy, the field must foster space for critical exchange, not silo off critical works and dismiss their contributions to the field as a whole. Criticality is needed to dissect power relations and identify systemic injustices not just in history, but also in our field. This article is the result of bringing our different theoretical lineages in dialogue, a first attempt to address the critical and skills-oriented dichotomy. However, the conversation by no means should end here. Although our examples center issues of race/ethnicity, we pose the questions above as an invitation to further expand this conversation and engage in other approaches to historic marginalization. We hope that 20 years from now the field has shifted from holding on to old paradigms to embracing the process of becoming open to expanding notions of knowledge.

Acknowledgments

We would like to thank Gabriel Reich, Avishag Reisman, and Danny C. Martinez for reading early drafts of this work. We are indebted to la doctora Cinthia Salinas for brainstorming with us and encouraging us to develop this manuscript. We are grateful to LaGarrett King and Terrie Epstein for inviting us to the Racial Literacy in the History Classroom where we initially envisioned this article. All mistakes are our own.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes

1. We agree with Salinas et al.’s argument that historical inquiry can and should encourage criticality. But we think it is imperative to discuss the context that necessitated the need for the term along with its unintended consequences. This distinction comes from a place of respect for Salinas et al.’s intent, what Paris and Alim (2014) referred to as a “loving critique.” Our critique comes from a place of respect for past work with the intent that we help the field reconsider how we frame the place of criticality in historical inquiry.

2. We acknowledge that “master narratives” is a term that not all these scholars would use. However, it is consistent with the language we use earlier in this paper. Some scholars may disagree with the term, but we believe we are still accurate in how we describe their ideas about historical inquiry.

3. We apply criticality to both research and pedagogy, whereas Abdou is only referring to the latter. However, we see the goals of both as fundamentally the same.

4. We use Latinx to be gender neutral and be more inclusive of LGBTQIA communities. However, we understand that the term also ignores racial differences that exist in the Latinx community.

5. We intentionally capitalize Black to signal the socially constructed racial identity of Black people. We intentionally do not capitalize white because such capitalization reproduces the practice by white supremacist groups to assert white superiority.