“Writing world history is, in a sense, as old as historiography itself” (18), writes Sebastian Conrad. From Sima Qian in Han China to Ibn Khaldun in medieval North Africa, historians have been writing about the wider world for a long time. Yet global history, as practised today, is very different from these earlier accounts. Conrad’s What is Global History? is an accessible introduction reflecting the most recent developments in the field. Written in a plain style, free from jargon, it will be of most use to undergraduate and graduate students, as well as those preparing to teach historiography courses. Throughout, Conrad treats global history in broad terms, steering well clear of the various sub-disciplines which have developed over recent years. This provides the reader with a general account of the field as a whole. However, those looking to understand the particular problems of global intellectual history, global environmental history, or global economic history will need to supplement their reading elsewhere. (Unfortunately, What is Global History? does not feature a critical bibliography, nor any suggestions for further reading.)

Following a short account of the history of global history, Conrad then turns to his central argument. Over three chapters, he looks to establish global history as a “distinct approach” (62). The first of these chapters, titled “Competing approaches”, sets out some possible alternatives. This also serves as a helpful introduction to related fields including comparative history, transnational history, world systems theory, multiple modernities and postcolonial studies. However, for Conrad, global history is something different. “A focus on connections alone is not enough” (67), he writes. Instead, global history is characterised by an examination of “large-scale structural integration” (67). In essence, Conrad is interested, not simply in reconstructing connections, but in analysing the strength, character and impact of those connections. This, he believes, depends on the extent to which the world was integrated.

Thankfully, Conrad introduces a concrete example. In the seventeenth century, European clocks reached Tokugawa Japan. There was a connection. However, the clocks remained ornamental because they bore little relation to how Japanese life was organised. Then, under the Meiji reforms of the nineteenth century this connection became part of an integrated structure. As East Asia was incorporated into a European political and economic world, the clocks suddenly became useful. So to write a history of clocks in Japan, Conrad argues, we need to understand “the larger geopolitical conditions in which they were embedded” (69).

Broadly, this all sounds sensible. Few would deny that global history should be more than a laundry list of connections. Of course, we can quibble about what to call the extra elements. Some will be less enthusiastic about the structuralist language Conrad deploys. But whether we call it structure, conditions or context, there is certainly more to global history than connections. The only issue here is that, as a central argument, integration starts to look a bit too sensible. Who exactly is writing global history which treats connections in isolation from wider contexts? Conrad isn’t particularly clear. At some points, he seems to have in mind Christopher Bayly’s Birth of the Modern World: Global Connections and Comparisons (2004). However, Bayly cannot really be accused of treating connections or comparisons as distinct from wider global and imperial systems. In sum, Conrad’s argument is best read as a reminder rather than a call to arms: global history is not an excuse to ignore context.

Whatever the reader thinks of this argument, the rest of What is Global History? still has a lot to offer. Two chapters stand out in particular—one on “Space in global history” and another on “Time in global history”. The first seeks to situate global history as part of a broader “spatial turn” (115). Conrad invites the reader to carefully consider the appropriate units of analysis, highlighting some possible candidates along the way. Perhaps global history is best written from the perspective of large transnational spaces, such as oceans? Or alternatively, perhaps the language of networks provides the best way to move beyond national and regional boundaries? Conrad then considers the pros and cons of each of these different uses of space. Oceans certainly push beyond the nation, but they soon become their own fixed territories, something exemplified by Atlantic historiography. Networks might be intuitively useful, but they can all too easily efface hierarchies of power. In the end, Conrad concludes that “there is no unit that is by definition better suited to global approaches than another” (133). Instead, historians need to pick the right tools for the job.

Whilst space has a clear analytic role in global history, time is more elusive. This makes Conrad’s chapter on the subject all the more instructive. Traditionally, the language of history has been the language of time. Analysis was grounded in terms such as modernisation, progress and revolution. What then does global history do to time? First, Conrad argues that it helps “shift from a genealogical to a synchronic model” (150). Erez Manela’s The Wilsonian Moment, for example, ranges across the world—from Korea and China to India and Egypt—in order to explain the uprisings of 1919 as part of a global synchronic history. Second, Conrad argues that global history forces us to think about different timescales. For example, China’s place in the world looks very different if we look over the last 50 years as opposed to the last 500 years. As with space, Conrad ultimately concludes that global historians need to deploy an understanding of time which reflects the kinds of questions they hope to answer. Interested in the emergence of the United States as an imperial power? Then deep history isn’t going to be much use. Want to explain the growth of agriculture on a global scale? 15,000 years seems more realistic.

Following chapters on “positionality” and “world-making”, Conrad concludes with a powerful chapter entitled “Global history for whom?”. This neatly ties in with his earlier account of the history of global history. Conrad rightly emphasises the contemporary political issues at stake. Unlike other critics, principally Frederick Cooper, Conrad understands that global history is not intrinsically tied to any particular political programme. It is neither inherently cosmopolitan, nor a celebration of liberal capitalism. It can serve to both enhance and detract from environmental and indigenous activism. It has the potential to both reveal and conceal hierarchies of power and oppression. Ultimately, like many of the chapters in What is Global History? Conrad concludes by insisting on the need for reflection. The result is a sensible and pragmatic account of the field as it stands today.