In a previous blog post titled 'The Practice of Microhistory: Challenges in capturing the veins, emotions and rhythms', I discussed that one of the challenges of writing a microhistorical work—such as my upcoming book, The Sky Poured Down Candy—was the challenge of macro. At many places still my work, I would say, suffers from limitations of macro overpowering the micro. This post is, hence, a reflection on the delicate balance between the micro and the macro in historical writing, and how this tension shapes the narrative, argument, and ultimately, the reader's understanding of the past.

Giovanni Levi is among the leading figures of Italian microhistory. He emphasizes that the process of adjusting the scale of analysis lies at the core of this approach. By narrowing the scale of observation, microhistory seeks to uncover aspects that might otherwise remain unnoticed. As a result, altering the scale can transform phenomena previously considered well-documented, giving them entirely new meanings. This methodological shift not only deepens understanding at the micro level but also enables scholars to derive broader generalizations. Even though initial observations are confined to a limited scope and function more as experimental inquiries than as representative examples, they ultimately contribute to wider historical interpretations (Levi 1991, 94-97). The idea that an investigation beginning with a narrow focus can lead to broader generalizations highlights the intricate connection between micro-level analysis and macro-level conclusions.

Carlo Ginzburg initially adopted the term microhistory without delving into its literal meaning. He acknowledged that he simply associated it with the idea of a reduced scale, as implied by the prefix 'micro'. By narrowing the scale of observation, he transformed what might have been a mere footnote in a broader study of the Protestant Reformation in Friuli into an entire book. However, through this process, he came to recognize that certain historical phenomena could not be fully understood without also considering the larger, macroscopic perspective. This realization led him to advocate for a reconciliation between macrohistory and microhistory. He viewed Marc Bloch’s Feudal Society as an exemplary model for this balance, as it seamlessly alternates between micro- and macrohistorical perspectives—between detailed close-ups and broad panoramic views—to challenge and refine overarching historical narratives through seemingly exceptional or short-lived cases. Ginzburg further underscores the necessity of macrohistory by drawing a parallel with Levi's assertion that microhistory is akin to a self-portrait rather than a collective depiction. While Ginzburg initially intended to follow a similar approach, he ultimately found himself unable to do so. If his own microhistorical method were to be likened to a self-portrait, he suggests that its closest artistic analogy would be the paintings of Umberto Boccioni, where boundaries between interior and exterior dissolve, and the self becomes porous—interwoven with the broader landscape and environment (Ginzburg 2014, 165–66).

The relationship between micro-level investigation and macro-level conclusions—the dynamic interplay between individual cases and their broader contexts—has been a central theoretical issue in microhistory. This does not mean, however, that microhistory is merely a case study. While Richard D Brown acknowledges that in some instances, the term 'case study' may function as a more traditional equivalent of microhistory, he distinguishes the two by emphasizing that case studies typically pursue narrowly defined objectives, such as testing specific generalizations. Unlike microhistory, they do not fundamentally challenge existing historical narratives or propose entirely new interpretations. Moreover, case studies have not engaged as extensively with the use of narrative forms, a defining characteristic of microhistorical writing (Brown 2014, 127).

SG Magnússon and István M Szijártó critically engage with this issue in their co-authored handbook, What is Microhistory? Theory and Practice. Describing their work as a dialogue or debate on the subject, they examine competing perspectives on contextualization—the practice of situating small-scale studies within broader frameworks. SG Magnússon, in particular, challenges the inclination of some microhistorians to prioritize contextualization, rejecting the idea that microhistory necessarily aims at drawing broader generalizations (SG Magnússon and Szijártó 2013, 12). He argues that microhistory should actively seek to break away from overarching metanarratives rather than contribute to them. Moreover, he views the attempt to integrate microhistorical studies into larger wholes as a fundamental misstep in historical methodology (10, 115). According to him:

The grand narrative monopolizes attention, since academic tradition lays down as a condition that without such greater historical connections the research becomes incomprehensible (a condition that goes under the name of scientific working practice); odd disjunctive bits and pieces left behind from the past are not seen as valid unless placed in an analyzable context (115–16).

Instead of allowing grand narratives to dominate historical research, Magnússon advocates for the 'singularization of history'—an approach that emphasizes the unique and irreducible aspects of individual cases over sweeping generalizations. In his own words:

The ideology of the 'singularization of history' is grounded in the fact that it is impossible to know more than a tiny fragment of the story, that the sources preserve only a minute selection of the moments, and that if the compass of the subject is increased our chances of attaining an understanding of what has happened decreases still further (115).

In his article The Future of Microhistory, SG Magnússon voices his disappointment with microhistorians who remain reluctant to move beyond traditional scholarly methods. He argues that this hesitation has led them to miss a significant opportunity to shape the ideological framework of historical writing on their own terms (SG Magnússon 2013).

In a review essay, Zoltán Boldizsár Simon critiques SG Magnússon's approach, arguing that if historical research follows his method, it risks becoming entirely self-contained, with its focus fixed solely on the subject at hand. Such an approach, Simon suggests, could leave the subject isolated, devoid of any broader connections, meaning, or significance. Acknowledging this concern, SG Magnússon concedes the necessity of a replacement—some form of structural framework that is more adaptable, with boundaries that are narrower and more easily controlled. However, Simon criticizes him for failing to clearly define what this alternative to traditional contextualization would entail.

In seeking to free historical writing from what he perceives as the constraints of social and cultural history, SG Magnússon undeniably challenges the dominance of grand narratives. He often uses the term interchangeably with contextualization or major historical questions, implying that conventional historiography treats events, figures, and beliefs as components within these overarching frameworks. Simon, however, argues that while grand narratives can serve as a context, they are not the only means of contextualization. Even if SG Magnússon seeks to reject both contextualization and grand narratives, what remains is not necessarily an undefined substitute, but rather an alternative form of context (Simon 2015, 243–44). This raises a fundamental question: can historical practice ever completely detach itself from contextualization?

Challenging SG Magnússon's stance, István M Szijártó offers a comparative analysis of Carlo Ginzburg's The Cheese and the Worms and Wolfgang Behringer's Shaman of Oberstdorf: Chonard Stoeckhlin and the Phantoms of the Night. He observes that while Ginzburg, drawing from the unconventional beliefs of his subject, Menocchio, infers the existence of an ancient Indo-European materialistic oral tradition, Behringer takes a different approach. He interprets the unorthodox ideas of his protagonist, Chonard Stoeckhlin, as nothing more than a personal assemblage of thoughts—a form of intellectual 'bricolage' without broader cultural significance (SG Magnússon and Szijártó 2013, 4). The key distinction, therefore, lies in representativity: whereas Menocchio is treated as indicative of a larger historical phenomenon, Stoeckhlin appears to stand alone, lacking such representational weight.

Despite the fact that Ginzburg ultimately uses popular culture as a form of counter-culture to arrive at macro-level conclusions—what he considers to be a 'great historical question'—his work remains the most renowned example of Italian microhistory. Meanwhile, other works employing intensive micro-investigation have been categorized under what Robert Darnton terms 'incident analysis'. Unlike microhistory, which often seeks to engage with broader historical narratives, incident analysis—exemplified by Darnton's well-known essay The Great Cat Massacre—focuses on detailed case studies without necessarily extrapolating macro-level interpretations (8). In attempting to uncover the defining characteristics of French rural and urban culture, Robert Darnton draws on folklore, documented patterns of collective behavior, and obscure archival materials, including reports from police inspectors and bourgeois observers. However, he firmly rejects the idea that there exists a 'typical' peasant or representative bourgeois (Darnton 1984, 6). In the title essay of The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History, Darnton closely examines a single incident—the autobiographical account of Nicolas Contat, a printer's apprentice who later became a journeyman. Contat's narrative recounts an episode in which apprentices and journeymen in a printing shop carried out the systematic killing of cats.

Though Darnton denies that the workers and masters involved in the incident are representative of larger social groups, he maintains the broader cultural and social framework of the event. He highlights various contextual factors, including the symbolic role of cats in rural festivals, contemporary attitudes toward violence against animals, the sexual implications of killing the mistress's cat, and the shifting material relationships between masters and workers in 18th-century trades. On a macro level, Darnton considers whether the episode can be interpreted as an act of class resistance. His conclusion is that while the incident does reflect sharp hostility between the shop workers and their master's family, this resentment is structured around specific grievances rather than a revolutionary agenda. The workers' actions, he argues, were not aimed at overthrowing their master but instead at causing temporary suffering and staging a moment of rebellious festivity (Little 2009).

Furthermore, influenced by Italian microhistory, the French scholar Jacques Revel argues that neither the micro nor the macro level should take precedence, as both are inherently complementary. He emphasizes that historical actors are simultaneously engaged in processes occurring at multiple levels (SG Magnússon and Szijártó 2013, 31). Expanding on Levi's notion of changing the scale, Bernard Lepetit similarly rejects any hierarchical distinction between macro- and micro-phenomena. Instead, he advocates for a 'controlled multiplication of scales of observation', believing that such an approach can yield additional knowledge and fresh insights (31). Lepetit's model, however, has faced criticism from Paul-André Rosental, who labels it 'multiscopic' history—a concept he differentiates from microstoria, which, in his view, grants unique significance to the micro-level. Meanwhile, Hans Medick, a scholar of German microhistory (Alltagsgeschichte), shares Levi's focus on marginalized and overlooked individuals but aligns with Lepetit in endorsing a multi-perspectival approach. Similarly, Jürgen Schlumbohm asserts that microhistory engages macrohistory in a productive dialogue, adding depth to the historical process and highlighting individual agency (35). Orest Ulbricht goes further, dismissing the opposition between microhistory and macrohistory as misleading, arguing that microhistory is often a form of macrohistory—one that remains deeply connected to its foundational context. Conclusively, according to Ulbricht, microhistorians strive to investigate relationships between individuals and social groups across different spheres of life on a broader scale. This approach, he contends, allows for greater precision, reduces errors, and avoids deductive reasoning. As a result, microhistory can, without question, be regarded as general history (37).

Building on this reflection, one cannot help but agree with Szijártó in regarding Microhistory as 'a colourful discourse' and considering micro-macro works as equally significant contributions to the field. After all, '[m]icrohistory does not [or should not] want to establish new orthodoxies' (11).

References

Brown, R. D. 2014. "Microhistory and the Post-Modern Challenge." In Theoretical Discussions of Biography: Approaches from History, Microhistory, and Life Writing, edited by Hans Renders and Binne de Haan. Brill.

Darnton, R. 1984. The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History. Vintage Books.

Ginzburg, C. 2014. "Microhistory: Two or Three Things That I Know About It." In Theoretical Discussions of Biography: Approaches from History, Microhistory, and Life Writing, edited by Hans Renders and Binne de Haan. Brill.

Levi, Giovanni. 1991. "On Microhistory." In New Perspectives on Historical Writing, edited by Peter Burke. Polity Press.

Little, Daniel. 2009. "Darnton’s History." Understanding Society: Innovative Thinking About a Global World. Accessed March 14, 2020. https://understandingsociety.blogspot.com/2009/04/darntons-history.html.

Magnússon, Sigurður Gylfi. 2013. "The Future of Microhistory." Journal of Microhistory. https://www.microhistory.org/?e=38&w=journal-of-microhistory-2008#body-anchor.

Magnusson, Sigurður Gylfi, and István M. Szijártó. 2013. What is Microhistory? Theory and Practice. Routledge.

Simon, Zoltán Boldizsár. 2015. "Microhistory: In General." Journal of Social History 49 (1): 237–48. https://doi.org/10.1093/jsh/shv005.