Delightfully interesting

I love archives. I am forever finding amazing things I never would have thought of in them. Sometimes it's a slog, but never without rewards. I thought I would share one of the rewards with you--my favorite definition of an intellectual ever.

Maxwell Bodenheim in the Dallas Texas News, July 20, 1924, in a symposium edited by Walter Holbrook on "Who are the Young Intellectuals?"

Editors note: We have been writing a number of authors, liberal and conservative to ask what they mean by the term “Young Intellectuals” and whom they consider representative of the school. This week we print Maxwell Bodenheim’s reply, which he himself characterizes as ‘at least……….a straightforward, ironical and vicious departure from the cut-and-dried statements of limited prejudice and elated misconceptions which you have been publishing in your symposium (the fault is not yours, of course)” Mr. Bodenheim is a poet and novelist of highly modern tendencies.

[...]

Intellect is a half-logical, half-imaginative struggle against false exteriors, surface semblances, decrepit plausibilities, emotional uproars, and outworn idols accepted and worshiped by large groups of people. It is thought and poetry refusing to be hoodwinked by the realistic pretenses and clamors of life, and forever setting up newer and more daring explanations of the motives, meanings, and essences concealed by life. It is the exquisite, skillful, and at times almost venomous attack on the mental inertia, and emotional complacency which appeals to a majority of human beings, whether they are Socialists or Monarchists. It has little respect for inflexible solutions and ecstatic prohibitions, and it ignores them in favor of an endlessly searching forward motion. It has therefore been disliked in all ages and by hosts of critics, from the early Greek rhapsodists down to H.L. Mencken.

A few different reasons I like this document so much. First of all, this symposium was taking place in a Texas newspaper. It's hard to imagine a similar dialogue today. Perhaps this is a tiny moment when "intellectual" was not a bad word in the States? More importantly, I like Bodenheim's definition because it does not automatically make "intellect" and "emotions" utter enemies. It also explains why intellectuals tend toward that impulse labeled disparagingly as "elitist." Thoughts?

Delightfully interesting

I love archives. I am forever finding amazing things I never would have thought of in them. Sometimes it's a slog, but never without rewards. I thought I would share one of the rewards with you--my favorite definition of an intellectual ever.

Maxwell Bodenheim in the Dallas Texas News, July 20, 1924, in a symposium edited by Walter Holbrook on "Who are the Young Intellectuals?"

Editors note: We have been writing a number of authors, liberal and conservative to ask what they mean by the term “Young Intellectuals” and whom they consider representative of the school. This week we print Maxwell Bodenheim’s reply, which he himself characterizes as ‘at least……….a straightforward, ironical and vicious departure from the cut-and-dried statements of limited prejudice and elated misconceptions which you have been publishing in your symposium (the fault is not yours, of course)” Mr. Bodenheim is a poet and novelist of highly modern tendencies.

[...]

Intellect is a half-logical, half-imaginative struggle against false exteriors, surface semblances, decrepit plausibilities, emotional uproars, and outworn idols accepted and worshiped by large groups of people. It is thought and poetry refusing to be hoodwinked by the realistic pretenses and clamors of life, and forever setting up newer and more daring explanations of the motives, meanings, and essences concealed by life. It is the exquisite, skillful, and at times almost venomous attack on the mental inertia, and emotional complacency which appeals to a majority of human beings, whether they are Socialists or Monarchists. It has little respect for inflexible solutions and ecstatic prohibitions, and it ignores them in favor of an endlessly searching forward motion. It has therefore been disliked in all ages and by hosts of critics, from the early Greek rhapsodists down to H.L. Mencken.

A few different reasons I like this document so much. First of all, this symposium was taking place in a Texas newspaper. It's hard to imagine a similar dialogue today. Perhaps this is a tiny moment when "intellectual" was not a bad word in the States? More importantly, I like Bodenheim's definition because it does not automatically make "intellect" and "emotions" utter enemies. It also explains why intellectuals tend toward that impulse labeled disparagingly as "elitist." Thoughts?

look who's in the New York Times!

Recently I was perusing the news, minding my own business, when I was quite surprised to stumble across the name of our very own Andrew Hartman. In the New York Times "Room for Debate" blog, the paper's editors ask several experts to comment on a hot-button issue of the day. On September 14, the site featured Andrew and other pundits and intellectuals (including Katrina vanden Heuvel of The Nation and religious and intellectual historian Patrick Allitt) sharing their thoughts on the question of "What is Socialism in 2009?" Read it here.

look who's in the New York Times!

Recently I was perusing the news, minding my own business, when I was quite surprised to stumble across the name of our very own Andrew Hartman. In the New York Times "Room for Debate" blog, the paper's editors ask several experts to comment on a hot-button issue of the day. On September 14, the site featured Andrew and other pundits and intellectuals (including Katrina vanden Heuvel of The Nation and religious and intellectual historian Patrick Allitt) sharing their thoughts on the question of "What is Socialism in 2009?" Read it here.

Teaching U.S. Intellectual History: Reflections On John Dewey

I am teaching a post-Civil War survey this fall at the University of Illinois at Chicago. The students are reading Out of Many (Vol. II, Prentice Hall), authored by John Mack Faragher, Mari Jo Buhle, Susan H. Armitage, and Daniel Czitrom. Since it's a 120-person lecture hall setting, I lecture. I prefer more interactive settings, but I'm not teaching this fall to find a venue for my deepest beliefs about authentic instruction---if you take my meaning.

For lecture fodder I chose to focus on expanding textbook connections to Chicago and Illinois history. This is no difficult task since Chicago figures prominently in most narratives on post-Civil War history, including sub topics like Gilded Age business endeavors, railroad expansion, labor unrest, Progressivism, urban politics, urban reform, the war efforts, etc. But, to connect my fall work with the recent intellectual history forum in Historically Speaking, and Daniel Wickberg's opening essay therein, I've made a concerted effort to meld intellectual history with my local history themes. Again, many Chicago historical topics aid this effort. Subjects such as the Gospel of Wealth and the Social Gospel, as well as others related to the history of education (higher, etc.), make this easy. Today I decided to devote 50 minutes to one person: John Dewey.

My method was to begin by discussing all textbook citations and mentions of Dewey (4-5 total), and then build on what was discussed. The most in-depth treatment in Out of Many consisted of a paragraph on his philosophy of education, as well as his suggested reforms, in the chapter on the Progressive Era---our current progress point in the term. I expanded by discussing five prominent themes and topics: Dewey's biography, his philosophy of education (with a minor relation to the kindergarten movement), his significance to philosophy (so, Pragmatism and Instrumentalism), his relation to politics, and Dewey's legacy.

For additional sources I consulted the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (available online), the Encyclopedia of Chicago (also available online), Louis Menand's The Metaphysical Club, and some online information available through the Center for Dewey Studies at Southern Illinois University Carbondale. And of course a number of Dewey's central beliefs and philosophical contributions were simply in my memory from studying Mortimer J. Adler, Robert Hutchins, and criticisms of progressive education. One of our own, Andrew Hartman, covers these topics in his book, Education and the Cold War. For my part, as someone who has never explicitly studied Dewey's biography, and only explored Dewey's own writing in a limited way, I was amazed at how much I knew and remembered. This is due solely to Dewey's influence.

The lecture went okay. I hit all of my points, even if less thoroughly than I wanted. I should've cut out the Kindergarten movement digression. My hope on that topic was to give another on-the-ground connection between Dewey and real reform. Unfortunately it only ended up distracting me from my last two topics: his connection to politics and Dewey's legacy. Even so, the material I had pass over in relation to both amounted to less than a page. My total lecture was twelve double-spaced pages. I should've gone with eleven.

The students seemed mostly interested. I spent some unplanned time on a straw poll at the beginning of class. I asked for a show of hands on education, science, and philosophy majors. I should have asked about psychology. Between education and science majors, two-thirds of the 80 or so students present were accounted for. At every possible point in my lecture I emphasized Dewey's significance to the place and role of science in American culture. The education material spoke for itself. The first thirty minutes of lecture seemed to hold my students' attention more than the last twenty. That's natural, I suppose. But the material on politics ("democracy as a way of life"), which helps bind together Dewey's educational and philosophical concerns, received a short shrift from my ill-fated kindergarten digression and their to-be-expected lull in attention. I'll take care of that next time.

What are your experiences teaching Dewey? What has worked, or not, for you? - TL

Teaching U.S. Intellectual History: Reflections On John Dewey

I am teaching a post-Civil War survey this fall at the University of Illinois at Chicago. The students are reading Out of Many (Vol. II, Prentice Hall), authored by John Mack Faragher, Mari Jo Buhle, Susan H. Armitage, and Daniel Czitrom. Since it's a 120-person lecture hall setting, I lecture. I prefer more interactive settings, but I'm not teaching this fall to find a venue for my deepest beliefs about authentic instruction---if you take my meaning.

For lecture fodder I chose to focus on expanding textbook connections to Chicago and Illinois history. This is no difficult task since Chicago figures prominently in most narratives on post-Civil War history, including sub topics like Gilded Age business endeavors, railroad expansion, labor unrest, Progressivism, urban politics, urban reform, the war efforts, etc. But, to connect my fall work with the recent intellectual history forum in Historically Speaking, and Daniel Wickberg's opening essay therein, I've made a concerted effort to meld intellectual history with my local history themes. Again, many Chicago historical topics aid this effort. Subjects such as the Gospel of Wealth and the Social Gospel, as well as others related to the history of education (higher, etc.), make this easy. Today I decided to devote 50 minutes to one person: John Dewey.

My method was to begin by discussing all textbook citations and mentions of Dewey (4-5 total), and then build on what was discussed. The most in-depth treatment in Out of Many consisted of a paragraph on his philosophy of education, as well as his suggested reforms, in the chapter on the Progressive Era---our current progress point in the term. I expanded by discussing five prominent themes and topics: Dewey's biography, his philosophy of education (with a minor relation to the kindergarten movement), his significance to philosophy (so, Pragmatism and Instrumentalism), his relation to politics, and Dewey's legacy.

For additional sources I consulted the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (available online), the Encyclopedia of Chicago (also available online), Louis Menand's The Metaphysical Club, and some online information available through the Center for Dewey Studies at Southern Illinois University Carbondale. And of course a number of Dewey's central beliefs and philosophical contributions were simply in my memory from studying Mortimer J. Adler, Robert Hutchins, and criticisms of progressive education. One of our own, Andrew Hartman, covers these topics in his book, Education and the Cold War. For my part, as someone who has never explicitly studied Dewey's biography, and only explored Dewey's own writing in a limited way, I was amazed at how much I knew and remembered. This is due solely to Dewey's influence.

The lecture went okay. I hit all of my points, even if less thoroughly than I wanted. I should've cut out the Kindergarten movement digression. My hope on that topic was to give another on-the-ground connection between Dewey and real reform. Unfortunately it only ended up distracting me from my last two topics: his connection to politics and Dewey's legacy. Even so, the material I had pass over in relation to both amounted to less than a page. My total lecture was twelve double-spaced pages. I should've gone with eleven.

The students seemed mostly interested. I spent some unplanned time on a straw poll at the beginning of class. I asked for a show of hands on education, science, and philosophy majors. I should have asked about psychology. Between education and science majors, two-thirds of the 80 or so students present were accounted for. At every possible point in my lecture I emphasized Dewey's significance to the place and role of science in American culture. The education material spoke for itself. The first thirty minutes of lecture seemed to hold my students' attention more than the last twenty. That's natural, I suppose. But the material on politics ("democracy as a way of life"), which helps bind together Dewey's educational and philosophical concerns, received a short shrift from my ill-fated kindergarten digression and their to-be-expected lull in attention. I'll take care of that next time.

What are your experiences teaching Dewey? What has worked, or not, for you? - TL

Is Intellectual History a Neglected Field? Second Take

Following up on Andrew's excellent and comprehensive summary and analysis of the September Historically Speaking symposium on the state of the field of intellectual history, I thought I would add a few thoughts, and keep the ball rolling as we look forward to our November conference, which should ventilate all of these issues in more detail:

The excellent symposium on the state of the field holds much fascination for us (I found it engrossing), but it must be baffling to outsiders, within the discipline of history but more particularly from without. The contributors are decidedly fretful about the state of the field but there is no great theoretical or methodological controversy in dispute and the actual assessment of current conditions is quite mild: Aside from a dearth of job listings in intellectual history, there is scant evidence of a problem, as all seem to admit. Intellectual historians are being hired and are writing, many are winning awards and are prominent in the field, and there are new journals (not to mention this fabulous new blog). There even seems a consensus that the great “linguistic turn” in historical studies and the shift in disciplinary authority from intellectual history to cultural history (and the tremendous rise in importance of cultural history) has actually worked to the advantage of intellectual historians, spreading their preferred methodologies, fostering critical attention to texts and contextual analysis, and fostering the theoretical and meta-theoretical proclivities so characteristic of the intellectual historians.

What strikes me, though, is a lingering frustration at our status in the field—that cultural historians have seized the moment in a way disadvantageous to certain kinds of intellectual history, the study of “highly formalized systems of thoughts and ideas” (Wickberg), of particular thinkers and schools. Daniel Wickberg’s response is much more pointed and successful than his original essay, as he seems goaded into greater clarity and sharper formulations by his respondents. Here, he defines intellectual history as that which “foregrounds ideas, thinking, and the ways in which minds structure experience.” What really smarts is when this kind of work loses salience (although once again there seem no end of interesting titles of recent books cited by the contributors that seem to be in this vein). It is unsatisfying to me to find intellectual history being done in just about any work that considers a text or uses the “tools” of intellectual history (close reading and concern for epistemology). Good grief – what historian does not read texts closely, aside from the dustiest 1970s-vintage quantitative scholar?

Moreover, I think the defensible point of concern is not loss of status so much as a loss of purpose and ambition in the subfield of intellectual history and, here, precisely the dearth of theoretical conflict might be the point. In the famous “no directions” (to borrow McClay’s snarky line, new to me) Wingspread symposium of the 1970s, intellectual historians fretted over the marginalization of their field but also recognized a theoretical crisis, that the old way of focusing on narrow, articulate elites and such things as the climate of opinion, resulting in studies of the American Mind, or Character, or the Culture of [fill in the blank] were no longer valid or respected. Since then, of course, Theory triumphed, Cultural Studies arrived and vanquished, and many historians adorn their analysis with sophisticated allusions to the conventional nature of knowledge and the determinative force of language and often deploy theories borrowed from intellectuals rooted in affiliated disciplines—gender theorists, queer theorists, sociologists of marginality and subaltern identities and Empire, Foucault, Derrida, Habermas, Bourdieu, Zizek, and so forth. As Wilfred McClay points out in his remarks on the love of historians for historiography, internal theoretical debates and analyses of fights within fields (and within disciplines and within academia) are “catnip” to us but irrelevant and boring to many outside our fields (including, probably, more than a few undergraduate students) and outside academia. So, even as a kind of intellectual history as theory has triumphed, the older intellectual history as “a proxy for the study of all Americans” (David Hollinger’s phrase), dead in the 1970s, remains dead and has not been replaced. The symposiasts point out that the state of intellectual history reflects the generally fragmented state of the entire discipline: Subdivisions and specialization abound; ever more detailed scholarship flourishes; and meanwhile the parts still are not cohering, a center is difficult to find. As academic historians abdicate the discredited practice of writing syntheses generalizing about all Americans for an audience of all Americans, nationalist histories written often by popularizers about presidents and wars and the “greatest generation” fill the vacuum.

What distinguishes intellectual history, I think, is precisely its synthetic ambitions, its effort to make the mass of specialized historical research fit into a pattern that coheres. There’s plenty of reasons to scorn such efforts—the dreaded bias towards elite cultural production—yet an intellectual history predicated on the importance of ideas as something more than tools used by social actors otherwise shaped and pushed to exert “agency” trends that way. It may well be that the discipline is becoming organized by topics and not fields, but perhaps the synthesizing viewpoint, the way in which ideas are filtered throughout complex layers of cultural production and reproduction, can represent a legitimate topic. In my view, claiming intellectual authority to make such broad generalizations was part and parcel of the modernist intellectual tradition in twentieth-century America that spawned intellectual history, American Studies, and the tradition of cultural criticism represented by the now-gone and sometimes lamented “public intellectuals.” The roots of the field (what McClay calls “the longer past of the discipline”) included a kind of history that was itself social criticism, exemplified by a scholar like Christopher Lasch (never shy about broad generalizations) or, perhaps, John Patrick Diggins, whose memory will be hailed at our upcoming conference. In the 1970s and 1980s, intellectual historians seemed interested in studying communities of discourse (or interpretive communities), a more modest way of representing the field to a fragmenting discipline that was becoming more responsive to the claims of the marginalized and previously excluded. There still seems a project in writing these histories and then assessing the relative authority of such communities and seeing how they link together into a whole.

Is Intellectual History a Neglected Field? Second Take

Following up on Andrew's excellent and comprehensive summary and analysis of the September Historically Speaking symposium on the state of the field of intellectual history, I thought I would add a few thoughts, and keep the ball rolling as we look forward to our November conference, which should ventilate all of these issues in more detail:

The excellent symposium on the state of the field holds much fascination for us (I found it engrossing), but it must be baffling to outsiders, within the discipline of history but more particularly from without. The contributors are decidedly fretful about the state of the field but there is no great theoretical or methodological controversy in dispute and the actual assessment of current conditions is quite mild: Aside from a dearth of job listings in intellectual history, there is scant evidence of a problem, as all seem to admit. Intellectual historians are being hired and are writing, many are winning awards and are prominent in the field, and there are new journals (not to mention this fabulous new blog). There even seems a consensus that the great “linguistic turn” in historical studies and the shift in disciplinary authority from intellectual history to cultural history (and the tremendous rise in importance of cultural history) has actually worked to the advantage of intellectual historians, spreading their preferred methodologies, fostering critical attention to texts and contextual analysis, and fostering the theoretical and meta-theoretical proclivities so characteristic of the intellectual historians.

What strikes me, though, is a lingering frustration at our status in the field—that cultural historians have seized the moment in a way disadvantageous to certain kinds of intellectual history, the study of “highly formalized systems of thoughts and ideas” (Wickberg), of particular thinkers and schools. Daniel Wickberg’s response is much more pointed and successful than his original essay, as he seems goaded into greater clarity and sharper formulations by his respondents. Here, he defines intellectual history as that which “foregrounds ideas, thinking, and the ways in which minds structure experience.” What really smarts is when this kind of work loses salience (although once again there seem no end of interesting titles of recent books cited by the contributors that seem to be in this vein). It is unsatisfying to me to find intellectual history being done in just about any work that considers a text or uses the “tools” of intellectual history (close reading and concern for epistemology). Good grief – what historian does not read texts closely, aside from the dustiest 1970s-vintage quantitative scholar?

Moreover, I think the defensible point of concern is not loss of status so much as a loss of purpose and ambition in the subfield of intellectual history and, here, precisely the dearth of theoretical conflict might be the point. In the famous “no directions” (to borrow McClay’s snarky line, new to me) Wingspread symposium of the 1970s, intellectual historians fretted over the marginalization of their field but also recognized a theoretical crisis, that the old way of focusing on narrow, articulate elites and such things as the climate of opinion, resulting in studies of the American Mind, or Character, or the Culture of [fill in the blank] were no longer valid or respected. Since then, of course, Theory triumphed, Cultural Studies arrived and vanquished, and many historians adorn their analysis with sophisticated allusions to the conventional nature of knowledge and the determinative force of language and often deploy theories borrowed from intellectuals rooted in affiliated disciplines—gender theorists, queer theorists, sociologists of marginality and subaltern identities and Empire, Foucault, Derrida, Habermas, Bourdieu, Zizek, and so forth. As Wilfred McClay points out in his remarks on the love of historians for historiography, internal theoretical debates and analyses of fights within fields (and within disciplines and within academia) are “catnip” to us but irrelevant and boring to many outside our fields (including, probably, more than a few undergraduate students) and outside academia. So, even as a kind of intellectual history as theory has triumphed, the older intellectual history as “a proxy for the study of all Americans” (David Hollinger’s phrase), dead in the 1970s, remains dead and has not been replaced. The symposiasts point out that the state of intellectual history reflects the generally fragmented state of the entire discipline: Subdivisions and specialization abound; ever more detailed scholarship flourishes; and meanwhile the parts still are not cohering, a center is difficult to find. As academic historians abdicate the discredited practice of writing syntheses generalizing about all Americans for an audience of all Americans, nationalist histories written often by popularizers about presidents and wars and the “greatest generation” fill the vacuum.

What distinguishes intellectual history, I think, is precisely its synthetic ambitions, its effort to make the mass of specialized historical research fit into a pattern that coheres. There’s plenty of reasons to scorn such efforts—the dreaded bias towards elite cultural production—yet an intellectual history predicated on the importance of ideas as something more than tools used by social actors otherwise shaped and pushed to exert “agency” trends that way. It may well be that the discipline is becoming organized by topics and not fields, but perhaps the synthesizing viewpoint, the way in which ideas are filtered throughout complex layers of cultural production and reproduction, can represent a legitimate topic. In my view, claiming intellectual authority to make such broad generalizations was part and parcel of the modernist intellectual tradition in twentieth-century America that spawned intellectual history, American Studies, and the tradition of cultural criticism represented by the now-gone and sometimes lamented “public intellectuals.” The roots of the field (what McClay calls “the longer past of the discipline”) included a kind of history that was itself social criticism, exemplified by a scholar like Christopher Lasch (never shy about broad generalizations) or, perhaps, John Patrick Diggins, whose memory will be hailed at our upcoming conference. In the 1970s and 1980s, intellectual historians seemed interested in studying communities of discourse (or interpretive communities), a more modest way of representing the field to a fragmenting discipline that was becoming more responsive to the claims of the marginalized and previously excluded. There still seems a project in writing these histories and then assessing the relative authority of such communities and seeing how they link together into a whole.

This Be The Verse

Twenty years ago, David Hackett Fischer published Albion's Seed: Four British Folkways in America, which attempts to explain U.S. political culture down to the present through the initial patterns of British immigration to North America. Historiographically, Fischer's project flowed from the twin streams of Annales School histoire totale, which was if anything losing influence at the time of the book's publication, and cultural history, which was very much on the rise. From the Annalistes, Fischer borrowed many of his interests (e.g. the longue durée; regionalism) and the scope of his project (this very hefty book announced itself as the first of a five-volume rewriting of the social and cultural history of the United States). But Fischer's approach stressed the importance of culture and ethnicity, both of which made this in-many-ways old-fashioned project seem more of its moment (though Fischer's conception of culture was itself rather anthropological and pre-"linguistic turn").*

Fischer's book was widely reviewed but got an almost universally mixed reception. Historians celebrated the audacity and ambition of the project, while questioning its details, logic, and conclusions. Charles Joyner, writing in the Journal of American Folklore, called it a "stunning but problematic achievement." Jack P. Greene, writing in the Journal of Social History, compared the book--in its extraordinary scope--to an encyclopedia, but worried that its individual components were not up to the historical standards one expects from encyclopedia entries. Darrett Rutman, reviewing the book for the American Historical Review, concluded that "Albion's Seed has borne at best questionable fruit." Albion's Seed stood as a kind of cautionary tale of the difficulties of writing total history. Though Fischer's career has continued to flourish, it has gone in other directions; the other four volumes of the project that Albion's Seed was supposed to inaugurate have never appeared.

But despite its rocky initial reception among historians, Albion's Seed has worked its way into the public discourse. Sara Robinson, co-author of the influential liberal blog Orcinus, devoted a two-part series to the book in 2007. And 2008 was a very good year for Albion's Seed. In trying to explain voting patterns during last year's protracted Democratic Presidential primary battle between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, many analysts turned to Albion's Seed and argued that Scots Irish culture in Appalachia made the region especially good for Clinton and bad for Obama (here's one random example of from The Seattle Times; googling "Scots Irish Fischer Obama" yields many others).

More recently, Albion's Seed has become a go-to explanation of what's going on with the Republican Party today. Indeed, at the time of this writing, the top-rated diary on DailyKos, the most influential Democratic blog, is "Yo, Pundits! Here's What's Up With the Republicans," which uses Albion's Seed to argue that each of the two major parties are based on two of Fischer's four ethno-regional groupings.**

(Lest anyone think that David Hackett Fischer has become the property of Democrats and progressives, it's worth noting that he was the 2006 recipient of the American Enterprise Institute's Irving Kristol Award for "notable intellectual or practical contributions to improved public policy and social welfare.")

While Albion's Seed has undoubtedly become something of a classic, I don't think that my fellow twentieth-century historians turn to it much to explain political cultural phenomena in our period. Rereading reviews from nearly two decades ago while putting together this post, I was tempted to agree with Fischer's critics about both its virtues and its flaws. Has it fared any better among historians of earlier periods of U.S. history? Or is this an example of a work of academic history that has become more read--or at least more significant--outside the profession than within it?

Perhaps Albion's Seed will do more to transform our political culture (or at least the ways that we talk about it) than it did to explain it.

___________________________________

* Albion's Seed was old-fashioned not only in its Annalistes qualities, but in its argument, which harkens back to the pre-Frederick Jackson Turner view of American history as best explained by the political traditions of the Germanic forebears of its founders.

** For those keeping score at home: Democrats = Puritans+Quakers while Republicans = Borderers+Cavaliers. Once again, the Scots Irish "Borderers" are the focus of the dKos diarist's attention.

This Be The Verse

Twenty years ago, David Hackett Fischer published Albion's Seed: Four British Folkways in America, which attempts to explain U.S. political culture down to the present through the initial patterns of British immigration to North America. Historiographically, Fischer's project flowed from the twin streams of Annales School histoire totale, which was if anything losing influence at the time of the book's publication, and cultural history, which was very much on the rise. From the Annalistes, Fischer borrowed many of his interests (e.g. the longue durée; regionalism) and the scope of his project (this very hefty book announced itself as the first of a five-volume rewriting of the social and cultural history of the United States). But Fischer's approach stressed the importance of culture and ethnicity, both of which made this in-many-ways old-fashioned project seem more of its moment (though Fischer's conception of culture was itself rather anthropological and pre-"linguistic turn").*

Fischer's book was widely reviewed but got an almost universally mixed reception. Historians celebrated the audacity and ambition of the project, while questioning its details, logic, and conclusions. Charles Joyner, writing in the Journal of American Folklore, called it a "stunning but problematic achievement." Jack P. Greene, writing in the Journal of Social History, compared the book--in its extraordinary scope--to an encyclopedia, but worried that its individual components were not up to the historical standards one expects from encyclopedia entries. Darrett Rutman, reviewing the book for the American Historical Review, concluded that "Albion's Seed has borne at best questionable fruit." Albion's Seed stood as a kind of cautionary tale of the difficulties of writing total history. Though Fischer's career has continued to flourish, it has gone in other directions; the other four volumes of the project that Albion's Seed was supposed to inaugurate have never appeared.

But despite its rocky initial reception among historians, Albion's Seed has worked its way into the public discourse. Sara Robinson, co-author of the influential liberal blog Orcinus, devoted a two-part series to the book in 2007. And 2008 was a very good year for Albion's Seed. In trying to explain voting patterns during last year's protracted Democratic Presidential primary battle between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, many analysts turned to Albion's Seed and argued that Scots Irish culture in Appalachia made the region especially good for Clinton and bad for Obama (here's one random example of from The Seattle Times; googling "Scots Irish Fischer Obama" yields many others).

More recently, Albion's Seed has become a go-to explanation of what's going on with the Republican Party today. Indeed, at the time of this writing, the top-rated diary on DailyKos, the most influential Democratic blog, is "Yo, Pundits! Here's What's Up With the Republicans," which uses Albion's Seed to argue that each of the two major parties are based on two of Fischer's four ethno-regional groupings.**

(Lest anyone think that David Hackett Fischer has become the property of Democrats and progressives, it's worth noting that he was the 2006 recipient of the American Enterprise Institute's Irving Kristol Award for "notable intellectual or practical contributions to improved public policy and social welfare.")

While Albion's Seed has undoubtedly become something of a classic, I don't think that my fellow twentieth-century historians turn to it much to explain political cultural phenomena in our period. Rereading reviews from nearly two decades ago while putting together this post, I was tempted to agree with Fischer's critics about both its virtues and its flaws. Has it fared any better among historians of earlier periods of U.S. history? Or is this an example of a work of academic history that has become more read--or at least more significant--outside the profession than within it?

Perhaps Albion's Seed will do more to transform our political culture (or at least the ways that we talk about it) than it did to explain it.

___________________________________

* Albion's Seed was old-fashioned not only in its Annalistes qualities, but in its argument, which harkens back to the pre-Frederick Jackson Turner view of American history as best explained by the political traditions of the Germanic forebears of its founders.

** For those keeping score at home: Democrats = Puritans+Quakers while Republicans = Borderers+Cavaliers. Once again, the Scots Irish "Borderers" are the focus of the dKos diarist's attention.

Is Intellectual History a Neglected Field of Study? (Historically Speaking forum)

This month’s edition of Historically Speaking, the monthly magazine of The Historical Society, includes a forum on intellectual history (accessible through Project Muse, carried by most academic libraries). The Historical Society was founded over ten years ago on the premise that the traditional sub-disciplines of intellectual, political, economic, and diplomatic history were important and deserved better treatment than given in the larger societies, where it was believed these fields were neglected because they were not as politically correct as social and cultural history. Although The Historical Society has changed somewhat, and in my opinion is less distinguishable from the older historical associations, Historically Speaking sees fit to address whether or not these older fields of study remain neglected. It will run similar panel discussions on the other “neglected” fields in the future. This, on intellectual history, is its first.

The title of the forum suggests the conversation will not be limited by national boundaries, but all four panelists—Daniel Wickberg, David Hollinger, Sarah Igo, and Wilfred McClay—are Americanists, much to the benefit of U.S. intellectual history enthusiasts. Wickberg initiates the collegial forum with a provocative essay titled, “Is Intellectual History a Neglected Field of Study?” His answer is an ambivalent and qualified yes.

Wickberg first examines the ways in which intellectual history is alive and well. Even though the social history takeover of the discipline pushed intellectual history to the margins—because it was supposedly “concerned with phenomena largely irrelevant to the ‘real’ substance of history: material conditions, economic interests, the social relations of everyday life”—Wickberg argues that the cultural and linguistic turns brought intellectual history back to the mainstream. Because historians became more aware of the power of language, “the intellectual historian’s skills in readings texts, analyzing arguments, and contextualizing ideas had a kind of renewed value…” Thus, intellectual history remains viable, but mostly subsumed under the category of cultural history.

Even though Wickberg is enthusiastic about the fact that the habits of mind of the intellectual historian are central to the overarching discipline, he laments that intellectual history is not bracketed off institutionally. He thinks this is bad for intellectual history, and for the larger discipline, which needs intellectual history. This is the paradox that drives his analysis.

Wickberg presents several pieces of evidence, mostly impressionistic, that seem to prove intellectual history is neglected. First, he points to the “anti-intellectualism of the intellectuals,” by whom he means by the social historians. “If some intellectual historians can justly be accused of over-identifying with their objects of study, with granting significance to thinking in history because they think about history, some social historians can equally be found guilty of compensating for their own elite status by insisting that ideas and thinkers are not important to history at all.”

Some other points that speak to the neglect of intellectual history: the poor coverage of intellectual history in American survey courses; the lack of jobs specifically defined as intellectual history; the departmental marginalization of intellectual historians who do manage to get hired; and the lack of a strong institutional presence, such as a society of our own.

On this last note, Wickberg points to encouraging signs, such as the renewed vigor on display in the journals of intellectual history, specifically Modern Intellectual History and The Journal of the History of Ideas. “Perhaps more significantly,” he writes, “a younger group of U.S. intellectual historians, consisting of recent Ph.D.’s and graduate students, has initiated a blog in U.S. history.” (That would be us.) “The same group has put together an annual conference in U.S. intellectual history. The first meeting was, by all reports, very successful, and the second meeting will likely have occurred by the time this appears in print.” (Close, but not quite.) “That the initiative… has been taken by younger historians is significant; it suggests that the field has a strong future.”

Not that I am posting this review merely to give ourselves a pat on the back, but… in his reply to Wickberg, Wilfred McClay also praises the work we have done. “I, too, have noticed that some of the most interesting and imaginative in the cohort of younger scholars are being drawn to the study of intellectual history. Indeed, one could plausibly argue that it is in fact the young, such as the creators of the U.S. Intellectual History blog and conference to which Wickberg refers, who are leading the way. What makes their dedication so impressive, and moving, is the fact that these are precisely the ones who have the most to lose professionally, in a precarious time of shrinking jobs and disappearing venues, but who are taking up the cause of intellectual history’s future in the teeth of all this discouragement. Something more than careerism or opportunism must be motivating them. What could it be, other than the love of the subject?”

Not that I am one to disagree with such high praise. Indeed, I know for a fact that none of us write for this blog for reasons of careerism or opportunism. But, I would argue that informally institutionalizing our sub-discipline has been highly productive. It has helped us to define and redefine our creative labors as U.S. intellectual historians, with colleagues who want us to succeed, because they want to advance the sub-discipline.

Perhaps this is the point of Wickberg’s desire for institutionalization, of his wishes that intellectual history be seen as an entity to itself. Why is this necessary? “Because intellectual historians are trained to think of ideas as historical objects that are contexts for other ideas—to think of ideas as environments as well as tools—they bring something more than a method or set of approaches to a historical problem; they bring a distinctive perspective.” This is the rationale for intellectual history.

Wickberg writes the above passage in his final response to the three replies from Hollinger, McClay and Igo. He is specifically referring to Igo’s optimism that we need not fret over the lack of institutional space for intellectual history, since intellectual historical methods have conquered the entire discipline. Igo points especially to authors of significant works in her field of study—policy history—as being in the grain of intellectual history without being called as such, such as Alice O’Conner’s Poverty Knowledge. This seems to be the most significant point of contention in the entire forum, as the participants mostly preach to the choir.

Hollinger thinks intellectual history is much better off than Wickberg, and lists dozens of important recent books to prove it. In fact, all of the authors reel off impressive lists of recent books, including one written by our own Ben Alpers, Dictators, Democracy, and American Public Culture: Envisioning the Totalitarian Enemy, 1920s -1950s. But Hollinger laments that, although intellectual historians might get jobs, they do not get jobs as intellectual historians. We have to sell ourselves as something different. Furthermore: “What I find most troubling is the tendency of many departments to suppose that period-defined jobs, such as 19th Century, or U.S. since 1945, or Colonial, are more appropriately filled with social historians than by intellectual or political historians.” But he is hopeful: “This tendency may represent something of a behavioral lag, since there is so much evidence, outside the hiring process, for renewed engagement with the contributions of intellectual history.” Let us hope so.

There are many other topics covered in the forum. McClay, for example, argues that being forced to the margins has helped intellectual historians rethink the big intellectual historical questions, and get away from studies of the inane. And all of the authors touch upon the differences and similarities of intellectual and cultural history. They all agree that what was once called intellectual history, prior to the rise of social history, was similar to what now goes by cultural history. That is, in its heyday, intellectual history was about both elite thinkers and cultural structures of feeling. To this end, it might not be worth the effort to delineate differences between intellectual and cultural history. Wickberg disagrees, since he thinks the study of a system of ideas, the types of systems worked out by intellectuals—“high” intellectual history—is worthy of historical attention as apart from popular discourses. This might be a good topic for further discussion—I know the writers of this blog have different views on this issue.

In sum, I highly recommend everyone read the panel. I suspect similar conversations will continue at our conference in November.

Is Intellectual History a Neglected Field of Study? (Historically Speaking forum)

This month’s edition of Historically Speaking, the monthly magazine of The Historical Society, includes a forum on intellectual history (accessible through Project Muse, carried by most academic libraries). The Historical Society was founded over ten years ago on the premise that the traditional sub-disciplines of intellectual, political, economic, and diplomatic history were important and deserved better treatment than given in the larger societies, where it was believed these fields were neglected because they were not as politically correct as social and cultural history. Although The Historical Society has changed somewhat, and in my opinion is less distinguishable from the older historical associations, Historically Speaking sees fit to address whether or not these older fields of study remain neglected. It will run similar panel discussions on the other “neglected” fields in the future. This, on intellectual history, is its first.

The title of the forum suggests the conversation will not be limited by national boundaries, but all four panelists—Daniel Wickberg, David Hollinger, Sarah Igo, and Wilfred McClay—are Americanists, much to the benefit of U.S. intellectual history enthusiasts. Wickberg initiates the collegial forum with a provocative essay titled, “Is Intellectual History a Neglected Field of Study?” His answer is an ambivalent and qualified yes.

Wickberg first examines the ways in which intellectual history is alive and well. Even though the social history takeover of the discipline pushed intellectual history to the margins—because it was supposedly “concerned with phenomena largely irrelevant to the ‘real’ substance of history: material conditions, economic interests, the social relations of everyday life”—Wickberg argues that the cultural and linguistic turns brought intellectual history back to the mainstream. Because historians became more aware of the power of language, “the intellectual historian’s skills in readings texts, analyzing arguments, and contextualizing ideas had a kind of renewed value…” Thus, intellectual history remains viable, but mostly subsumed under the category of cultural history.

Even though Wickberg is enthusiastic about the fact that the habits of mind of the intellectual historian are central to the overarching discipline, he laments that intellectual history is not bracketed off institutionally. He thinks this is bad for intellectual history, and for the larger discipline, which needs intellectual history. This is the paradox that drives his analysis.

Wickberg presents several pieces of evidence, mostly impressionistic, that seem to prove intellectual history is neglected. First, he points to the “anti-intellectualism of the intellectuals,” by whom he means by the social historians. “If some intellectual historians can justly be accused of over-identifying with their objects of study, with granting significance to thinking in history because they think about history, some social historians can equally be found guilty of compensating for their own elite status by insisting that ideas and thinkers are not important to history at all.”

Some other points that speak to the neglect of intellectual history: the poor coverage of intellectual history in American survey courses; the lack of jobs specifically defined as intellectual history; the departmental marginalization of intellectual historians who do manage to get hired; and the lack of a strong institutional presence, such as a society of our own.

On this last note, Wickberg points to encouraging signs, such as the renewed vigor on display in the journals of intellectual history, specifically Modern Intellectual History and The Journal of the History of Ideas. “Perhaps more significantly,” he writes, “a younger group of U.S. intellectual historians, consisting of recent Ph.D.’s and graduate students, has initiated a blog in U.S. history.” (That would be us.) “The same group has put together an annual conference in U.S. intellectual history. The first meeting was, by all reports, very successful, and the second meeting will likely have occurred by the time this appears in print.” (Close, but not quite.) “That the initiative… has been taken by younger historians is significant; it suggests that the field has a strong future.”

Not that I am posting this review merely to give ourselves a pat on the back, but… in his reply to Wickberg, Wilfred McClay also praises the work we have done. “I, too, have noticed that some of the most interesting and imaginative in the cohort of younger scholars are being drawn to the study of intellectual history. Indeed, one could plausibly argue that it is in fact the young, such as the creators of the U.S. Intellectual History blog and conference to which Wickberg refers, who are leading the way. What makes their dedication so impressive, and moving, is the fact that these are precisely the ones who have the most to lose professionally, in a precarious time of shrinking jobs and disappearing venues, but who are taking up the cause of intellectual history’s future in the teeth of all this discouragement. Something more than careerism or opportunism must be motivating them. What could it be, other than the love of the subject?”

Not that I am one to disagree with such high praise. Indeed, I know for a fact that none of us write for this blog for reasons of careerism or opportunism. But, I would argue that informally institutionalizing our sub-discipline has been highly productive. It has helped us to define and redefine our creative labors as U.S. intellectual historians, with colleagues who want us to succeed, because they want to advance the sub-discipline.

Perhaps this is the point of Wickberg’s desire for institutionalization, of his wishes that intellectual history be seen as an entity to itself. Why is this necessary? “Because intellectual historians are trained to think of ideas as historical objects that are contexts for other ideas—to think of ideas as environments as well as tools—they bring something more than a method or set of approaches to a historical problem; they bring a distinctive perspective.” This is the rationale for intellectual history.

Wickberg writes the above passage in his final response to the three replies from Hollinger, McClay and Igo. He is specifically referring to Igo’s optimism that we need not fret over the lack of institutional space for intellectual history, since intellectual historical methods have conquered the entire discipline. Igo points especially to authors of significant works in her field of study—policy history—as being in the grain of intellectual history without being called as such, such as Alice O’Conner’s Poverty Knowledge. This seems to be the most significant point of contention in the entire forum, as the participants mostly preach to the choir.

Hollinger thinks intellectual history is much better off than Wickberg, and lists dozens of important recent books to prove it. In fact, all of the authors reel off impressive lists of recent books, including one written by our own Ben Alpers, Dictators, Democracy, and American Public Culture: Envisioning the Totalitarian Enemy, 1920s -1950s. But Hollinger laments that, although intellectual historians might get jobs, they do not get jobs as intellectual historians. We have to sell ourselves as something different. Furthermore: “What I find most troubling is the tendency of many departments to suppose that period-defined jobs, such as 19th Century, or U.S. since 1945, or Colonial, are more appropriately filled with social historians than by intellectual or political historians.” But he is hopeful: “This tendency may represent something of a behavioral lag, since there is so much evidence, outside the hiring process, for renewed engagement with the contributions of intellectual history.” Let us hope so.

There are many other topics covered in the forum. McClay, for example, argues that being forced to the margins has helped intellectual historians rethink the big intellectual historical questions, and get away from studies of the inane. And all of the authors touch upon the differences and similarities of intellectual and cultural history. They all agree that what was once called intellectual history, prior to the rise of social history, was similar to what now goes by cultural history. That is, in its heyday, intellectual history was about both elite thinkers and cultural structures of feeling. To this end, it might not be worth the effort to delineate differences between intellectual and cultural history. Wickberg disagrees, since he thinks the study of a system of ideas, the types of systems worked out by intellectuals—“high” intellectual history—is worthy of historical attention as apart from popular discourses. This might be a good topic for further discussion—I know the writers of this blog have different views on this issue.

In sum, I highly recommend everyone read the panel. I suspect similar conversations will continue at our conference in November.

David Brooks' Short History Of Humility And Narcissism: What's Missing?

A September 15 New York Times op-ed by David Brooks, titled "High-Five Nation," explores the notion of humility since World War II. Set off, no doubt, by the recent outburst of South Carolina's Republican congressman Joe Wilson---who is mentioned in the article---Brooks looks backward for the roots of incivility and narcissism in the United States. [Thanks to John Fea for bringing the op-ed to my attention.]

Brooks's piece is an extended compare-and-contrast between 1945 and today. He looks closely at Western democratic humility at the close of World War II, as opposed to the pomposity of fascism, and then quickly brings the narrative to the present with only brief notes of Muhammad Ali and Norman Mailer's self-promoting personas. The present includes citations of Joe Wilson, Kanye West, and Michael Jordan. The only thing missing at the end was Tucker Max. But I admire Brooks's restrained conclusion: "This isn’t the death of civilization. It’s just the culture in which we live." It isn't worth it to get riled up over people like Mr. Max; indeed, if you do, you're feeding the beast.

Christopher Lasch's name isn't mentioned, but his thinking is all over Brooks's op-ed. The article is clearly a extension, a brief updating, of Lasch's Culture of Narcissism. I've read around this book for ten years, but have somehow avoided a close study. Given my sympathies I'm surprised by my own neglect.

But I don't need to Lasch to tell me about how things have developed---and how Brooks's op-ed is short-sighted in its hindsight. By stopping at World War II---an event that interrupted a great many trends in U.S. history---Brooks ignores the means by which we are assaulted on a daily basis with excess personality, incivility, crass behavior, rudeness, and the constant stream of self-promotion. Of course I'm talking about newspapers, television, film, radio, and now the internet. Because the barrier of literacy is missing with the middle three media, they become the culprits of quickening. Those media incessantly broadcast the beams of narcissism. But even a focus on media is somewhat myopic.

The real culprit is the desire for fame and riches---the desire to be a star. Film enabled the star system paradigm and star worship, but the desire to be a star, of any kind seemingly, has become part of the so-called American Dream since the 1920s. The star system, in sum, is part and parcel with the advent of American Modernity after World War I and the rise of the film system. Today everyone seemingly wants to be "in pictures"---no matter the level of nastiness or crudeness it takes to get there. I'm not denying a link to narcissism or Lasch, who I believe is feeding Brooks's thinking. It's just that the roots of the problem run deeper than WWII.

So rather than high-five Brooks for his piece, I'd give him the more subdued Obama fist bump. The op-ed is on the right track, it just stops a few years short of the most relevant historical touchstones. - TL

David Brooks' Short History Of Humility And Narcissism: What's Missing?

A September 15 New York Times op-ed by David Brooks, titled "High-Five Nation," explores the notion of humility since World War II. Set off, no doubt, by the recent outburst of South Carolina's Republican congressman Joe Wilson---who is mentioned in the article---Brooks looks backward for the roots of incivility and narcissism in the United States. [Thanks to John Fea for bringing the op-ed to my attention.]

Brooks's piece is an extended compare-and-contrast between 1945 and today. He looks closely at Western democratic humility at the close of World War II, as opposed to the pomposity of fascism, and then quickly brings the narrative to the present with only brief notes of Muhammad Ali and Norman Mailer's self-promoting personas. The present includes citations of Joe Wilson, Kanye West, and Michael Jordan. The only thing missing at the end was Tucker Max. But I admire Brooks's restrained conclusion: "This isn’t the death of civilization. It’s just the culture in which we live." It isn't worth it to get riled up over people like Mr. Max; indeed, if you do, you're feeding the beast.

Christopher Lasch's name isn't mentioned, but his thinking is all over Brooks's op-ed. The article is clearly a extension, a brief updating, of Lasch's Culture of Narcissism. I've read around this book for ten years, but have somehow avoided a close study. Given my sympathies I'm surprised by my own neglect.

But I don't need to Lasch to tell me about how things have developed---and how Brooks's op-ed is short-sighted in its hindsight. By stopping at World War II---an event that interrupted a great many trends in U.S. history---Brooks ignores the means by which we are assaulted on a daily basis with excess personality, incivility, crass behavior, rudeness, and the constant stream of self-promotion. Of course I'm talking about newspapers, television, film, radio, and now the internet. Because the barrier of literacy is missing with the middle three media, they become the culprits of quickening. Those media incessantly broadcast the beams of narcissism. But even a focus on media is somewhat myopic.

The real culprit is the desire for fame and riches---the desire to be a star. Film enabled the star system paradigm and star worship, but the desire to be a star, of any kind seemingly, has become part of the so-called American Dream since the 1920s. The star system, in sum, is part and parcel with the advent of American Modernity after World War I and the rise of the film system. Today everyone seemingly wants to be "in pictures"---no matter the level of nastiness or crudeness it takes to get there. I'm not denying a link to narcissism or Lasch, who I believe is feeding Brooks's thinking. It's just that the roots of the problem run deeper than WWII.

So rather than high-five Brooks for his piece, I'd give him the more subdued Obama fist bump. The op-ed is on the right track, it just stops a few years short of the most relevant historical touchstones. - TL

Bleg: Help Me Learn About Late Twentieth-Century American Neoliberalism

I beg your assistance and advice in helping me learn more about late twentieth-century Neoliberalism in the United States. I'm trying to get up-to-speed in two ways. First, I want to find the most authoritative voice or voices in specifically defining Neoliberalism. Second, I want to know something more about the most thoughtful, contemporary critics of Neoliberalism (I'm sure they trace their thinking back to C. Wright Mills somehow).

I make these requests because my graduate and undergraduate educations were deficient, by choice mostly, in terms of thinking about contemporary politics and economic practice. I suppose this isn't a surprising omission in terms of training for cultural and intellectual history, plus the history of education. With my specialties and weaknesses in mind, I need to learn something about the idea of Neoliberalism for a top-secret article on which I am presently working. I say "top secret" in jest, but all I want to say about it at this point is this: it is related to the history of education in late twentieth-century America. My problem with the already drafted article, and a problem seconded by early reviewers, is that it uses too many full-frontal terms like "greed" and hypocrisy in its analysis. It was suggested that Neoliberalism was the idea I was talking around. But to incorporate some more nuanced terminology related to Neoliberalism and its critics into my text, I need some books and names for my footnotes.

What do I know already? Well, not much aside from Mills, but here is what I have gathered so far:

(a) Neoliberalism is a market-oriented line of thinking with regard to the traditional projects of liberalism (welfare, health care, education, infrastructure, etc.). It seems to be a conciliatory political variation, safe for Democrats, of Milton Friedman's thinking.
(b) Bill Clinton and his community of discourse were highly influenced by Neoliberalism. This includes people like Robert Rubin [corrected from first post---see comment below].
(c) Thanks to an earlier post by fellow USIH contributor Andrew Hartman, I know that Eve Chiapello and Luc Boltanski's The New Spirit of Capitalism is a related theoretical text. I don't know whether their bias is critical?
(d) This Wikipedia entry on Neoliberalism looks helpful. What are its weaknesses? From the entry it looks like John Williamson's 10 policy points might be a nice starting point for a definition of Neoliberalism.

Thanks in advance for your help. - TL

Bleg: Help Me Learn About Late Twentieth-Century American Neoliberalism

I beg your assistance and advice in helping me learn more about late twentieth-century Neoliberalism in the United States. I'm trying to get up-to-speed in two ways. First, I want to find the most authoritative voice or voices in specifically defining Neoliberalism. Second, I want to know something more about the most thoughtful, contemporary critics of Neoliberalism (I'm sure they trace their thinking back to C. Wright Mills somehow).

I make these requests because my graduate and undergraduate educations were deficient, by choice mostly, in terms of thinking about contemporary politics and economic practice. I suppose this isn't a surprising omission in terms of training for cultural and intellectual history, plus the history of education. With my specialties and weaknesses in mind, I need to learn something about the idea of Neoliberalism for a top-secret article on which I am presently working. I say "top secret" in jest, but all I want to say about it at this point is this: it is related to the history of education in late twentieth-century America. My problem with the already drafted article, and a problem seconded by early reviewers, is that it uses too many full-frontal terms like "greed" and hypocrisy in its analysis. It was suggested that Neoliberalism was the idea I was talking around. But to incorporate some more nuanced terminology related to Neoliberalism and its critics into my text, I need some books and names for my footnotes.

What do I know already? Well, not much aside from Mills, but here is what I have gathered so far:

(a) Neoliberalism is a market-oriented line of thinking with regard to the traditional projects of liberalism (welfare, health care, education, infrastructure, etc.). It seems to be a conciliatory political variation, safe for Democrats, of Milton Friedman's thinking.
(b) Bill Clinton and his community of discourse were highly influenced by Neoliberalism. This includes people like Robert Rubin [corrected from first post---see comment below].
(c) Thanks to an earlier post by fellow USIH contributor Andrew Hartman, I know that Eve Chiapello and Luc Boltanski's The New Spirit of Capitalism is a related theoretical text. I don't know whether their bias is critical?
(d) This Wikipedia entry on Neoliberalism looks helpful. What are its weaknesses? From the entry it looks like John Williamson's 10 policy points might be a nice starting point for a definition of Neoliberalism.

Thanks in advance for your help. - TL

Not Unexpected News: Confirmation Of Budget Cuts For History Departments

InsideHigherEd reported bad news yesterday on funding for history departments in the United States. Here are some of the numbers (specific and vague) derived from an AHA survey of history departments compiled by Robert Townsend:

1. The AHA sent surveys to 110 history departments and received responses from 63.
2. Two-thirds of that 63 are experiencing budget cuts (so 42?).
3. (a) 5 departments reported being relatively untouched (but according the number above it should be 21, yes?).
(b) 15 characterized their cuts as "modest."
(c) The rest (either 42 or 27?) I guess are experiencing severe cuts? Perhaps the 15 + 5 equals roughly the 1/3 that are not being characterized as facing cuts, leaving the 43 others in severe mode?
4. "Most departments reported freezes on hiring."
5. "Most departments reported salary freezes."
6. "Departments with graduate programs generally said that they had cut slots for students."
7. "Other cuts included non-academic staff positions, travel, and supplies (especially paper)."

I hope this will not be the case, but I fear the last line means that we'll see folks backing out of the Second Annual USIH Conference this fall. - TL

Not Unexpected News: Confirmation Of Budget Cuts For History Departments

InsideHigherEd reported bad news yesterday on funding for history departments in the United States. Here are some of the numbers (specific and vague) derived from an AHA survey of history departments compiled by Robert Townsend:

1. The AHA sent surveys to 110 history departments and received responses from 63.
2. Two-thirds of that 63 are experiencing budget cuts (so 42?).
3. (a) 5 departments reported being relatively untouched (but according the number above it should be 21, yes?).
(b) 15 characterized their cuts as "modest."
(c) The rest (either 42 or 27?) I guess are experiencing severe cuts? Perhaps the 15 + 5 equals roughly the 1/3 that are not being characterized as facing cuts, leaving the 43 others in severe mode?
4. "Most departments reported freezes on hiring."
5. "Most departments reported salary freezes."
6. "Departments with graduate programs generally said that they had cut slots for students."
7. "Other cuts included non-academic staff positions, travel, and supplies (especially paper)."

I hope this will not be the case, but I fear the last line means that we'll see folks backing out of the Second Annual USIH Conference this fall. - TL

The Death of Conservatism... and Other Vital Center Illusions (Cross-post)

Over at the on-line magazine Washington Decoded, check out my review of Sam Tanenhaus, The Death of Conservatism. It should be of interest to USIH readers, as I put the book in the context of intellectual history, discussing Richard Hofstadter, Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., William Buckley, Jr., Whitakker Chambers, Russell Kirk, Albert Jay Nock, and James Burnham, among others.

A little tease: I introduce the essay with a Hofstadter passage from 1964:

American politics has often been an arena for angry minds. In recent years we have seen angry minds at work mainly among extreme right-wingers, who have now demonstrated in the Goldwater movement how much political leverage can be got out of the animosities and passions of a small minority.

The Death of Conservatism... and Other Vital Center Illusions (Cross-post)

Over at the on-line magazine Washington Decoded, check out my review of Sam Tanenhaus, The Death of Conservatism. It should be of interest to USIH readers, as I put the book in the context of intellectual history, discussing Richard Hofstadter, Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., William Buckley, Jr., Whitakker Chambers, Russell Kirk, Albert Jay Nock, and James Burnham, among others.

A little tease: I introduce the essay with a Hofstadter passage from 1964:

American politics has often been an arena for angry minds. In recent years we have seen angry minds at work mainly among extreme right-wingers, who have now demonstrated in the Goldwater movement how much political leverage can be got out of the animosities and passions of a small minority.

A History Of The Idea Of Macroeconomics

Paul Krugman wrote a (very) long but worthy reflection on the history of the idea of macroeconomics. As you can see from my phrasing, I believe this piece rides the line between the history of ideas and the history of economics as an academic discipline. Your opinion of Krugman's analyses of the present will likely dictate your acceptance of his narrative of events. He writes on the period beginning in the 1920s and ending with the Great Recession of 2008-09. The central characters in Krugman's drama are Milton Friedman and John Maynard Keynes, as well as the intellectual descendants of each (today's freshwater and saltwater economists, respectively). Again, the piece is rather lengthy but the pay-off makes your effort worthwhile. - TL

A History Of The Idea Of Macroeconomics

Paul Krugman wrote a (very) long but worthy reflection on the history of the idea of macroeconomics. As you can see from my phrasing, I believe this piece rides the line between the history of ideas and the history of economics as an academic discipline. Your opinion of Krugman's analyses of the present will likely dictate your acceptance of his narrative of events. He writes on the period beginning in the 1920s and ending with the Great Recession of 2008-09. The central characters in Krugman's drama are Milton Friedman and John Maynard Keynes, as well as the intellectual descendants of each (today's freshwater and saltwater economists, respectively). Again, the piece is rather lengthy but the pay-off makes your effort worthwhile. - TL

First Drafting Recent Historical Events: The Case Of Ave Maria Law School

You might call this a first draft of the history of Ave Maria Law School, as well as Ave Maria University in general. Of course Ave Maria forwards their own version of events. That's the nature of history. The comments to the Washington Monthly article, however, provide a tidy object lesson in the hazards of drafting first accounts of any institution's history in the age of Culture Wars---especially skirmishes of the religious variety. - TL

First Drafting Recent Historical Events: The Case Of Ave Maria Law School

You might call this a first draft of the history of Ave Maria Law School, as well as Ave Maria University in general. Of course Ave Maria forwards their own version of events. That's the nature of history. The comments to the Washington Monthly article, however, provide a tidy object lesson in the hazards of drafting first accounts of any institution's history in the age of Culture Wars---especially skirmishes of the religious variety. - TL

The Job Market Exposed---At One Institution---In Another Field: Is It The Same In History?

The City College of the City University of New York listed an open assistant professor, tenure-track position in philosophy last fall. Lou Marinoff, chair of philosophy at CCNY and founding president of the American Philosophical Practitioners Association, decided to chronicle the search for an Aug. 31 InsideHigherEd article. [Hat-tip to the ever-intriguing Historiann for bringing this to my attention. Try to ignore my extremely salty comments on her post.]

While I'm sure that philosophy searches differ from those in history, I believe it's probably more by degree than kind. For instance, Professor Marinoff relayed that 637 applications were received. As a result they committee resorted to "practical" sorting methods. Here's an excerpt that narrowed my pupils:

How did we prune our field from 637 to 27? An important selection criterion was holding a Ph.D. from a good university. Members of our department earned their Ph.D.s at Columbia, Harvard, Oxford, and University of London. Additionally, City College is known as the “Harvard of the Proletariat,” with distinguished alumni that include nine Nobel Laureates, more than any other public institution in America. Our faculty members are expected to live up to this legacy.

What did Marinoff mean by "good university"? Highly ranked universities? Solid departments? Schools with which he and his CCNY peers were familiar?

Second, third, and fourth criteria included evidence of research and publication, evidence of undergraduate teaching ability as well as versatility, and evidence of administrative service, respectively.

Notice what's missing: an intriguing, weighty dissertation topic; collegiality; affirmative action data; conference presentations; good grades, etc. Also note the ordering of criteria: institutional choice, publications/research (which I concede could include your diss. topic/approach), teaching, admin. service.

So what's the message to past and present students who either are on, or will be on, the market? Well, everything centers on your very first choice---the nearly immutable decision of where you go to school. I wonder how true this might be in history? Is that kind of career determinism empirically evident in history?

Next? Start working on publications the minute you get on campus. This means you need to know your diss. topic quickly and make your classes work with your research and writing goals. Otherwise you need to come to campus with some publications cemented or at least pending.

As for teaching, screw it. Slack off---do the minimum---on your TA-ship because it just doesn't matter. Now, say that in your best Tripper Harrison (aka Bill Murray in Meatballs) voice:

The Job Market Exposed---At One Institution---In Another Field: Is It The Same In History?

The City College of the City University of New York listed an open assistant professor, tenure-track position in philosophy last fall. Lou Marinoff, chair of philosophy at CCNY and founding president of the American Philosophical Practitioners Association, decided to chronicle the search for an Aug. 31 InsideHigherEd article. [Hat-tip to the ever-intriguing Historiann for bringing this to my attention. Try to ignore my extremely salty comments on her post.]

While I'm sure that philosophy searches differ from those in history, I believe it's probably more by degree than kind. For instance, Professor Marinoff relayed that 637 applications were received. As a result they committee resorted to "practical" sorting methods. Here's an excerpt that narrowed my pupils:

How did we prune our field from 637 to 27? An important selection criterion was holding a Ph.D. from a good university. Members of our department earned their Ph.D.s at Columbia, Harvard, Oxford, and University of London. Additionally, City College is known as the “Harvard of the Proletariat,” with distinguished alumni that include nine Nobel Laureates, more than any other public institution in America. Our faculty members are expected to live up to this legacy.

What did Marinoff mean by "good university"? Highly ranked universities? Solid departments? Schools with which he and his CCNY peers were familiar?

Second, third, and fourth criteria included evidence of research and publication, evidence of undergraduate teaching ability as well as versatility, and evidence of administrative service, respectively.

Notice what's missing: an intriguing, weighty dissertation topic; collegiality; affirmative action data; conference presentations; good grades, etc. Also note the ordering of criteria: institutional choice, publications/research (which I concede could include your diss. topic/approach), teaching, admin. service.

So what's the message to past and present students who either are on, or will be on, the market? Well, everything centers on your very first choice---the nearly immutable decision of where you go to school. I wonder how true this might be in history? Is that kind of career determinism empirically evident in history?

Next? Start working on publications the minute you get on campus. This means you need to know your diss. topic quickly and make your classes work with your research and writing goals. Otherwise you need to come to campus with some publications cemented or at least pending.

As for teaching, screw it. Slack off---do the minimum---on your TA-ship because it just doesn't matter. Now, say that in your best Tripper Harrison (aka Bill Murray in Meatballs) voice:

Slightly Off Topic: Adler Planetarium Lecture Announcement

If you live in Chicago, you might be interested in the following lecture to be given later this month:

------------------------------------------------------------
12th Annual Roderick S. Webster Memorial Lecture
"Greek Astronomers and the Ancient Public"~ ~
Speaker: Dr. Alexander Jones
Professor of the History of the Exact Sciences in Antiquity
Institute for the Study of the Ancient World
New York University

Wednesday, Sept 23, 2009
6:00 p.m.

Universe Theater
Adler Planetarium
1300 S. Lake Shore Drive, Chicago

Between about 200 B.C.E. and 200 C.E., Greek astronomers learned how to explain and predict the appearances and motions of the heavenly bodies with remarkable precision. At the same time, they took great interest in explaining astronomy and its uses to the general public. In this lecture, Dr. Alexander Jones will talk about what these early astronomers thought the public should know about their science and why. Dr. Jones will illustrate the variety of approaches they used to convey their messages through words, pictures, numbers, and mechanical models.

Admission is free and open to the public. No registration is required. A reception will follow the lecture.

Sponsored by the Adler Planetarium and the Archaeological Institute of America: The Chicago Society
------------------------------------------------------------

Full disclosure: My wife works at the Adler Planetarium

Research Tidbit: Every intellectual historian, U.S. focused or otherwise, and every historian of science should know that the Adler holds collections on the history of astronomy.

Slightly Off Topic: Adler Planetarium Lecture Announcement

If you live in Chicago, you might be interested in the following lecture to be given later this month:

------------------------------------------------------------
12th Annual Roderick S. Webster Memorial Lecture
"Greek Astronomers and the Ancient Public"~ ~
Speaker: Dr. Alexander Jones
Professor of the History of the Exact Sciences in Antiquity
Institute for the Study of the Ancient World
New York University

Wednesday, Sept 23, 2009
6:00 p.m.

Universe Theater
Adler Planetarium
1300 S. Lake Shore Drive, Chicago

Between about 200 B.C.E. and 200 C.E., Greek astronomers learned how to explain and predict the appearances and motions of the heavenly bodies with remarkable precision. At the same time, they took great interest in explaining astronomy and its uses to the general public. In this lecture, Dr. Alexander Jones will talk about what these early astronomers thought the public should know about their science and why. Dr. Jones will illustrate the variety of approaches they used to convey their messages through words, pictures, numbers, and mechanical models.

Admission is free and open to the public. No registration is required. A reception will follow the lecture.

Sponsored by the Adler Planetarium and the Archaeological Institute of America: The Chicago Society
------------------------------------------------------------

Full disclosure: My wife works at the Adler Planetarium

Research Tidbit: Every intellectual historian, U.S. focused or otherwise, and every historian of science should know that the Adler holds collections on the history of astronomy.

Tim's Light Reading (9/1/09)

1. A New Scopes Trial? Apparently U.S. political conservatives, led by the U.S. Chamber of Commerce, would like the EPA to hold a public hearing on whether climate change is man-made or a part of nature's cycles. So if we assume that Clarence Darrow is be played by Al Gore in this proposed historical melodrama, who will take on the part of William Jennings Bryan? This guy? What innocent school teacher will be the John Scopes of the twenty-first century?

2. President Obama's reading list for his just-finished vacation. The last paragraph sums up the situation---the obsession with what presidents read---fairly well:

"We can blame John Kennedy for this obsession with presidential reading. Asked at a press conference what he read for relaxation, he named Ian Fleming's James Bond novels. Kennedy was the first glamour president of the television age. His celebrity status escalated the process of overinterpreting presidential behavior, but those books also seemed to say something about the man who read them. It was just too fitting that Kennedy was reading about a debonair Cold War rake who made his own rules. Presidential reading lists have been squeezed for meaning ever since. Which means that in the heat of this year's health care debate, the president doesn't dare read anything by anyone who once wrote a book called Dr. No."

In addition, I believe our obsession with the president's reading list, and reading lists in general, says something about our desire to learn how others think. We want to know what informs the thinking processes of others. Our curiosity about reading lists speaks to an innate desire for intellectual history and philosophy. Reading lists are just the People magazine/Cliff's Notes version of that desire.

3. I used this list of Top 10 Philosophy Blogs to help fill gaps on my Google Reader folder on the subject. After a few weeks of monitoring all ten, they seem a bit content dry in general. Then again, aren't all academic type blogs sporadic and content dry in August? Perhaps they'll pick up after Labor Day.

4. I'm paraphrasing Richard Yanikoski, president of the Association of Catholic Colleges and Universities, but he essentially asserted this summer that Catholic colleges should acknowledge that they're like any another business. His precise quote: “We are a business, too. ...We’re a big business. We have a responsibility to ensure that the economic decisions we make also are cognizant of the moral consequences.” And Mr. Yanikoski builds on his attempt to twist this into a positive, relaying that "colleges must treat employees fairly, be responsible to the environment, and reserve financial aid for the needy and not just the smartest students." But I can't help being disappointed in his contradictory philosophical assumption. Namely, if you're a business, then you're concerned about profit---or the camouflage term "excess" in the world of some non-profits. What business model accounts for fairness, the environment, and help for the needy when the bottom-line is measuring stick? To be fair, I think Mr. Yanikoski means well. But his terminology confuses the issues. My thinking is that as a college you're an education institution that works within a philosophy and a budget; you're not a business that somehow works within a philosophy and deals with a product of immeasurable value (i.e. education).

5. Crooked Timber recently hosted a seminar on George Scialaba's new book of collected essays, What Are Intellectuals Good For? I'm working my way through this. I can say already, however, that I'm continually amazed at the ability of online publications to put forth high-quality content---way better than silly aggregation posts about one's light reading. :)

6. The Intellectual Life of Eunice Kennedy Shriver. The social connections between activists, as well as their shared thought processes, intrigue me. As a Catholic, furthermore, I've grown more and more curious Dorothy Day and her influences. She has come up again and again as inspirational to late twentieth-century Catholics who are doggedly inspired to agitate for the cause of labor. In this case, however, we see a less prominent member of a high-profile political family motivated by Day's life and work. Between Eunice, John, Robert, Rose, and Ted, the Kennedys surely reflect the varieties of ways that U.S. Catholics apply their faith both socially and personally. The diversity of Catholic religious experiences continually amaze me.