Doing Historical IPE: Advice for Phd Students

I have been doing historical work in the field of IPE (and IR more broadly) since I switched from the History, to the Political Science, PhD at Stanford. I am often asked why I switched fields, whether this were a good decision, and what advice I might have for younger scholars similarly interested in taking a historical approach to IPE (specifically) and IR (more broadly).

I am not the only scholar doing this kind of work–not by a long shot! There are many, many great scholars in economic history. But even in IPE as such, Jeff Frieden, Cheryl Schonhardt-Bailey, and John Ikenberry all do serious historical work in various modes. All of them are great scholars who continue to shape the field. But the trend over the last several decades–in which relatively few younger scholars do primarily historical IPE–gives rise to a notion that historical IPE is passé. I don’t think that is true; and I am determined to ensure that historical IPE continues to thrive within the field.

On these pages, I am sharing here some of the experiences and (I hope) wisdom that I have accumulated over the years. I hope it will serve any such scholars interested in this approach. While some of my publications on these topics speak to established scholars, I am pitching this page at the level of PhD students, those considering a PhD with these interests, and recent graduates. These are some of the things that I wish I would have known when I was in those positions.

What was I thinking?

I first contemplated switching from History to Political Science halfway through the PhD. I do not recommend doing that–unless you want to complete several sets of core sequences and multiple, different sets of methods modules. It would be far better to go into the correct programme in the first place.

In my case, I was too eager and, perhaps, too naïve. As an undergraduate (at Chicago and then Cambridge), I used to exalt History: “You can study the history of anything; so you should study history!” I think that is true; but, in reality, historians simply cannot study the history of everything. And, like every field, there are trends that go in and out of style. At the time, historians were moving away from studying money and towards studying haircuts. I am not being facetious. Nor am I chiding historians. The reality is that there are a lot of really serious political, social, and economic dimensions to haircuts–consider skinheads. I think it is important to study such things; and, personally, I enjoy learning about such things. I really do love history.

But my challenge was that I was more interested in studying Hamilton and Jefferson debating the Bank, the mint, and the debt. And this was really, really far from where the action was, and was going, in the discipline of history at that point. Moreover, I needed serious training in political economy if I wanted to work on political economy topics seriously.

My supervisor in History was Jack Rakove. My hope was to become a Hamiltonian the way he had become a Madisonian. We got on very well, indeed; but my interests took me into rather technical questions about money, trade, and mercantilism. With Jack Rakove’s encouragement, I began working with Barry Weingast in Political Science. Barry introduced me to Tom Sargent (who was visiting regularly); and they gave me extraordinarily good advice:

Likely, I was going to be an odd duck no matter where I ended up. In history, I would be conventional in my methods and my approach; but, the moment I mentioned the word “seignoirage,” I would lose everybody. In the social sciences, I might be seen as a methodological atavist; but people would understand my questions and, crucially, be able to determine if I were offering good answers to those questions. Provided I could convince them that I was analytically serious and intellectually open-minded, doing historical work might even be an advantage.

This is not a verbatim quote, of course. But this was the (wonderful) advice that has guided my path since. I subsequently met Judy Goldstein, who became my (new) supervisor and whose scholarship became the model that I have emulated.

Is it survivable?

Perhaps the biggest challenge is that this kind of research is principally qualitative while the field of IPE is increasingly quantitative. This means that it has taken some effort (and good fortune!) to keep my research in conversation with the rest of my field. But I do regularly present at the IPE Society annual meetings, I have published in the top journal several times, and I believe our colleagues in IPE do not think me a total imposter. Sometimes, I even get invited along to things “to offer the historical perspective.” Frankly, all of this is partly a testament to the genuine open-mindedness of the field.

In fact, I can honestly say that some of the best conversations I have had have been with the most “methods-heavy” scholars. Rather than denouncing historical work straight off, they have often helped me to see the unique value that it provides. Simply put, the kinds of deep case studies that I do might not just be valid–or even just useful. They might be indispensable in answering certain kinds of crucial questions.

For instance, some actors serve as (proverbial) price setters, essentially defining the conditions (and the rules) according to which other actors proceed. Hegemons are one such example. So, in my work on Smith and Shelburne, I try to explain why the hegemon itself embraced trade liberalisation. That it did so might be a structural condition for the rest of the world. And we might want to use quantitative measures of trade reliance, size, etc., to distil general patterns about how the other 200 countries of the world responded to that new structure. But, I believe, we need a clear story about this particular country. In a world where King George III gets to defy institutional and structural constraints–see: Jefferson, Thomas. Declaration of Independence. 1776–we might even need to understand the thought processes of pivotal agents. The same thing is true for a central banker like Montagu Norman who, I show in my book, defined and redefined his own constraints as Governor of the Bank of England. So, I am indebted to some “methods” friends for helping me to frame–I think usefully–my analysis in these terms.

More broadly, I have learned the power of comparative advantage. I like to consume the findings from work generated using all kinds of methods. It would be hard indeed to study monetary policy without being willing and able to consume quantitative scholarship! But we are all better off if I (and others) specialise in the method/approach that follows from one’s comparative advantage. If my country is better suited to making whisky than wine, it is for me to make the best whisky I can and then to trade that whisky for the wine that others make. In the end, we should both have more whisky and more wine. My colleagues in the field always seem to like this analogy. I cannot imagine why.

But it is not always easy. And, like every scholar, I have a nice pile of projects that have not worked out (yet!). In the work that has been successful, I have needed to package, frame, and distil my work to make it more accessible to the bulk of my field. I also need to ensure that it is as rigorous as I can make it. But I guess I never heard of a published piece that did not go through the same process.

Length is always a perennial challenge. Fortunately, some editors have indulged me by allowing me to go (thousands of words) beyond the word limit. Even this is tough to make where the analysis requires comparing, say, convergence in speeches to demonstrate convergence in positions. Thankfully, my rather long book has offered the canvass necessary to fully flesh out my analysis. Sometimes, there is no substitute for writing 400 pages about the gold standard. ;)

The other major challenge is the time scale involved in production. Personally, I favour quality over quantity. I think most scholars do, frankly. But that is really a separate issue. Quality aside, it simply takes historians a long time to gather, organise, read, and build a narrative around thousands of pages of archival/primary source material. That is true whether the quality of the analysis is good or bad (although doing good work does extend the time required).

I should be clear. I would not tell people that historical work takes longer because it is “better quality” than other types of work. In addition to being untrue, it will cost you a lot of friends–read: a lot of potential allies. Serious people do serious work, by definition. There is no need to suggest that one type of work is better/harder/more virtuous than another. Instead, make the case for doing historical work as such, and then compare like for like. It is not uncommon for a professional historian to spend a decade on a single monograph. If this is what you are similarly trying to produce, then remind colleagues and committees–and yourself–of that. Let that be the measure and the guide. It would not do to say that we should only drink Tempranillo because whisky takes too long to reach its peak. But it would also not do to say that whisky is better than Tempranillo because it ages more slowly. As above, let us savour each in its place.

If you are considering using historical methods in IPE, I hope you will give the field a chance–even as you know that the road might be bumpy.

Given my interests, should I do a PhD?

This question might be a little too late for anybody already doing a PhD. Although I know that I reconsidered the decision many times! It would have been helpful to have had this available:

http://chrisblattman.com/about/contact/gradschool/

There are some differences I might emphasise; but there is much, much wisdom here. In fact, I have crafted the rest of this page to highlight some the important differences for someone considering doing a PhD in “historical IPE.” So, perhaps read Chris’s advice in conjunction with the perspective offered here.

If/as you become more serious, there is also the Chicago Guide to Your Academic Career:

https://www.amazon.com/Chicago-Guide-Your-Academic-Career/dp/0226301516

It is a little out of date, but I have had it since I began my PhD. It has served me well thus far.