Joel Baden, The Historical David

A book review of Joel Baden, The Historical David: The Real Life of an Invented Hero (New York: HarperOne, 2013)

In his introduction to The Historical David, author Joel sets out to discover the real David of history.  He begins with two central theses: first, that there was indeed a historical David, a real-life individual; and, second, the stories about him in I and II Samuel are largely but not entirely fabrications that obscure rather than reveal that David.  They were written to transform him into a foundational, mythic figure something on the order of our American stories about George Washington, only much more so.  The biblical stories, that is, are the ancient equivalent of "spin," and Baden's goal is to separate the spin from reality.  He intends to pursue his goal by unearthing and discarding the obviously non-historical elements from the biblical stories while also placing David in his historical context including taking into account the ancient literary conventions employed to glorify him (see p. 13).  The question is, of course, just how successful is Baden in all of this?

A troubling note in his introduction suggests that the reader must proceed carefully, applying to Baden the same level of critical mistrust that he applies to the biblical text.  He states somewhat in passing that he intends to understand the David narratives "from an objective historical perspective" (p. 10).  It sounds like a worthy goal but for the fact taught on the first day of Historiography 101 that there is no such a thing as an "objective perspective," historical or otherwise.  It is widely understood among historians that "objectivity" is a tricky concept at best especially when it is applied to the study of the past.  This is a rookie mistake that a scholar of Baden's stature should not make, and it does not bode well for what the reader might anticipate next.

Before getting into what comes next, it should be acknowledged that The Historical David is well-written and clearly argued.  Baden knows his subject and conveys his enthusiasm for his quest throughout the book.  He believes in what he is doing.  Furthermore, he adheres to the biblical chronology of David's life rather than following a topical format, a wise choice generally when writing history.

The problem he faces as a historian however is that it is virtually impossible to write a history for which there is so little evidence.  The second fact introduced in Historiography 101 is that historians live and die by the quality of their historical resources, and Baden has only one source, the Bible, which is notoriously difficult to use for the historiographical study of the past.  This slim evidential base unfortunately invites researchers to take "inventive" approaches, which can all too easily lead to a level of speculation that first skirts the boundaries of circumspection and restraint and then exceeds those boundaries entirely.  Baden has fallen prey to these temptations of a lack of evidence, although it is sometimes difficult for non-specialist readers to determine if he does or not because he knows his field well enough so that he can see things the uninitiated do not see, make connections those less knowledgable can't make.  That being said, it is still the author's responsibility to make his arguments as transparent as possible.  Baden writes for a general audience, and it is up to him to keep that audience as clued in as possible, which he fails to do.  He, in particular,  provides his readers with virtually no information about the text or its convoluted history.  He simply asserts that the relevant texts, I and II Samuel, lie close to the time of David and can be mined for relevant historical data concerning him.

Another mistake made by the author is that he confuses the text with events by assuming that the text contains all of the relevant information concerning David needed to write his history.  If the text does not contain details or background concerning a particular event or person, then for Baden there are no details or background at all.  Observing, for example, that the prophet Nathan appears in the text only three times in a way that makes him appear to be a literary construct, Baden decides that there never was an actual person, Nathan.  If the text treats him as a literary construct, then he must be only a literary construct.  The flaw in his logic is clear, which is that simply because the text appears to use the prophet as a literary construct says nothing about whether or not such a person actually existed.  In fact, we could argue just as logically that if the original text was as close to the time of David as Baden claims, it would not be logical that the biblical authors would assert the pivotal importance of a figure the readers would know did not really exist.  Baden's claim that there was no Nathan, that is, carries no weight whatsoever.  It is speculation based on a single historical source read in a particular way.

Baden's methodological approach to the text is as flawed as is his assumption that it contains all of the relevant information needed for a biography.  Entirely ignoring the text's theological concerns, he treats it as a political document intended to glorify David and his royal house at the expense of Saul and other opponents.  His fundamental working hypothesis is that the biographer of David cannot take the text at face value.  It is an apologetical work and must be treated with suspicion at every turn.  In effect, Baden assumes that wherever the text speaks positively about David or negatively about his enemies the text is in error.  Wherever it embellishes or goes out of its way to paint a positive picture of David, it is historically wrong.  The biographer thus must discern the nuggets of historical truth hidden within the text through a "close reading" of its contents while being aware of the logic of its narrative.  The biographer, according to Baden, thus must make sense out of the text in order to reconstruct actual events by stripping away those things don't seem to make sense, aren't apparently logical, or appear unrealistic.  What we are left with in The Historical David is Baden's own scholarly intuition as to what "really" happened.

What we are left with, that is, is a surmised history consistently based on speculation born of Baden's own idea of what makes sense.  He asserts time and again that the text can be read logically only in a particular way where, in fact, one can think of other ways to read the text that would allow events to stand as described there.  Baden rejects the possibility of coincidences and happenstance.  He insists that events have to proceed in a logical fashion.  If something in the text seems improbable, then for Baden it did not happen.  This is simply not the way history is written.  Coincidences do happen.  People frequently do not behave in logical ways and often enough they do things that are not in their best interest.  There are black swans.  The past that actually happened is remarkably illogical, and while a measure of common sense is important in the writing of history it has to be based on what what was commonsensical in the time and place being studied.  When one studies nineteenth-century Protestant missionary history in Thailand, thus, missionary behavior often seems lacking in common sense until one understands the cultural, ideological, and theological underpinnings that informed their world view.  Given that understanding, they were remarkably consistent in behaving in ways that made perfect sense to them at the time.  Baden never struggles with the sensibilities of ancient times in discerning what seems to be logical and illogical to him.

One example will have to suffice here of the weaknesses in analysis that are found throughout the book.  In a section entitled, "David and the Philistines" (pp. 99-101), which supposedly documents David's time living among the Philistines (I Samuel 27).  Baden speaks with authority regarding David's motivation and what he wanted to accomplish without any reference to the biblical text.  Speaking to a historical figure's inner state is always tricky even when documentation exists, but here Baden speaks to David's mindset in spite of no evidence at all other than his own surmises as to what it might have been.  And even so, he asserts his assumptions concerning David's state of mind without equivocation.

Baden then goes on to assert that the biblical account is "thoroughly improbable," (p. 101) a somewhat confusing wording that apparently is intended to make "improbable" sound as if it is really impossible.  According to the text, David, who was living among the Philistines, fooled them into thinking he was raiding Hebrew towns when if fact he wasn't.  It is this that Baden finds improbable—improbable that the Philistines wouldn't have known what David was up to.  Again, his rendition of events is anchored in logic rather than evidence.  Logically, he decides that David didn't attack the cities the text said he attacked, and logically he decides that David actually attacked communities in Judah, which the text says he didn't.  Throughout his rendition of events, Baden uses such words as "improbable," "unlikely," and "probably," leaving the reader with nothing to hang on to but the author's speculations.

This is not history.  This is not how history is written.

Baden's treatment of the text, in fact, is confusing.  On the one hand, he is almost a literalist.  He seems able to discern specific scenes and detailed events that he assumes happened in real time, but on the other hand he rejects almost out of hand the text's presentation of those scenes and events.  Where other biblical literalists take the text to be inspired and always right as given, he verges on taking the text to be consistently obscured by politically motivated spin and thus open to right interpretations.

None of this works in the end.  Baden's David is a figment of his speculative, intuitive imagination.  At times, the reader feels that Baden may be correct in some of his surmises and assertions, but for the most part it is clear that we learn very little about the "real" David.  We are better off admitting that he is beyond all possibility of historiographical reconstruction in any meaningful way.  The text that we have is essentially a theological document that tells the story of God's dealings with the Hebrew people in ancient times.  In this story, David is a flawed hero of the faith.  Saul is an enemy of faith.  Nathan is a key figure, appearing at axial moments.  This is not to say that the text has no historiographical value.  It does, but not as a source for specific events minutely dissected.

The bottom line is that unless one enjoys historical fiction, this is not a book worth buying.  All it reveals is our profound ignorance of actual events and persons in biblical Israel's past.

An added thought: in some ways, The Historical David stands as something of a judgment on the vast literature concerning the historical Jesus.  Every author of that genre seems to discover a different Jesus in the past—a prophet, a mystic, or a revolutionary.  In truth, the historical Jesus is only a little more accessible than the historical David.  The four gospels are essentially faith documents constructed out of a logic or common sense very different from those of modern-day historians.  They tells us far more about the beliefs of the earliest generations of Christians about Jesus Christ than they do the actual "real" Jesus of Nazareth.  The Historical David is thus almost a cartoon caricature of the literature on historical Jesus.

David Backes, A Wilderness Within: The Life of Sigurd F. Olson

A book review of David Backes, A Wilderness Within: The Life of Sigurd F. Olson (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997)

Growing up in Minnesota, there were always books by Sigurd F. Olson (1899-1982) on the bookshelf and frequently on the end table next to my Dad's chair. And our summer vacation trips were always Up North in the Boundary Waters canoe country.  I took my first canoe trip when I was 15, and it has remained a high point ever since. All of which is to say that Backes biography of Olson brings back for me memories of both the man and the land he celebrated in his writings and his life.  It is my privilege to again live for a time on the edge of a northern semi-wilderness, which means that Backes portrayal of Olson conjures up not just memories from the past.  It also reminds me of why living in the North Country remains a privilege.

In this context, there is a great deal in A Wilderness Within that resonates with the reader.  It is a generally good read.  It is well-written.  Backes obviously knows his material and has done his research.  He adheres to the timeline of Olson's life quite closely, and he reveals something of the complexity of the man.  This is not a hagiographic work of unmixed admiration, although it is clear that the author does admire and deeply respect his subject.  Perhaps the one serious criticism I have of the book is that so little of Olson's actual time in the wilderness is described here.  His sometimes long trips into the wilderness receive mostly only passing attention in the context of other matters and seem to be significant more for the people Olson met on them than they were in and of themselves.  That being said, in general Backes provides his readers with a nuanced, clear, and interesting portrait of Sigurd Olson.

Backes does a particularly good job in describing for us the fact that from an early age Olson was on a spiritual journey, a quest for meaning.  He was raised in a strict fundamentalist Christian home, which set him on a course for a search for God.  At the same time, he was raised in northern Wisconsin, which gave him the wilderness context within which he conducted that sometimes agonizing search.  The third leg of the tripod of Olson's life, as described by Backes, was his love of writing and the desire to use writing to communicate to others his philosophy of the wilderness as a wellspring of our spirituality.  It took him decades to discover the genre appropriate to his style and sense of mission, and therein lies one key to the course of Olson's life, which was not always easy.  He battled depression.  He was sometimes hard to live with at home.  He resented having to make a living that kept him out of the wilderness and away from his writing desk.  But eventually Olson eventually became a full-fledged writer, beginning with his well-known first book, The Singing Wilderness, published in 1956.  From that initial success, he became a widely read and influential voice for the wilderness, which remained the dominant motif of his life to his last day.

Olson on the trails

Source:  singingwilderness.net

Olson, as Backes tells the tale, also became an important figure in the wilderness conservation
movement.  He led several organizations dedicated to the preservation of the wilderness as well as serving as an advisor to governors and national political figures on conservation issues.  For decades, he was in the thick of the political wrangling over the use of what remains of the wilderness in the United States.  Backes points out that as much as he was admired around the country the one place where he was least popular was in his hometown of Ely, Minnesota, because he seemed intent on thwarting its economic development by keeping loggers, resort developers, and other despoilers of the wilderness out of the woods.

The main theme through all of the book, however, is Olson's spiritual quest for meaning, which he found in the experience of wilderness "epiphanies" in the rugged wilderness of the Quetico-Superior canoe country.  He was an expert woodsman.  He loved nothing more than being in the wild.  And he developed a wilderness philosophy-theology built on his experiences in the woods, which held that the wilderness remains a presence deep within us—a "racial memory" of evolutionary proportions.  It was where we became human, and it is where we lived and development for countless generations.  We still need to be in the wilderness because it is there that we discover (or recover) what is good, meaningful, and important in life.  In later years, Olson did a good deal of reading in philosophy, theology, as well as in the literature of conservation and developed his wilderness philosophy-theology accordingly.  Backes especially highlights Olson's spiritual journey and his thoughts on the meaning of wilderness in Chapter 14, which is entitled, "From Contemplation to Action: Sigurd Olson's Wilderness Theology, 1959-1964," (pages 286-313).  [See Backes, "The Land Beyond the Rim: Sigurd Olson's Wilderness Theology," for a further description of Olson's wilderness spirituality].  It should be said that Olson's theology was not an orthodox, trinitarian Christian one although it is clear that it has its roots in Christian thinking about the divine.  He belonged to the Presbyterian Church in Ely, but Backes leaves the impression that organized religion was not particularly important to him.

Acknowledging that Olson became an icon of the conservation movement, Backes strives for a balanced and critical account of his life and largely succeeds.  Olson was not a happy man for most of his life.  His dream of becoming a writer was as much a source of suffering over the course of the years as it was happiness.  He seems to have enjoyed praise and attention a little too obviously, and there were long periods when he was inattentive and even insensitive to his family. In the end, however, Backes leaves his readers with the impression that these admitted defects only serve to underscore the greatness of the man.  He overcame many obstacles, internal as well as external, in the course of his life and made an important difference in his time.  Olson was something of a people's philosopher-theologian, as comfortable with a rod, a paddle, or even a gun in his hand as a pen and as happy sitting in a duck blind as over a typewriter.  He could be bold and tough, but as a college dean he devoted himself to his students who loved him.  So, what comes through by the end of the book is that Sigurd Olson did become a beloved, deeply respected, iconic figure by the time of his death.  He was a leader, whether on the water or in a boardroom—and people followed.

Backes' The Wilderness Within is straight-forward and without frills.  In that sense, it reflects in its style something of the man it describes.  For those interested in the wilderness, spirituality and theology, the history of the conservation movement, or who simply enjoy a good biography, this is a book well worth reading.  I highly recommend it.