Writing About Emotion in USIH: Vidal, Buckley, and Tanenhaus

Sam Tanenhaus reflected yesterday, in The New York Times*, on the unexpected similarities between Gore Vidal and William F. Buckley, Jr. The piece caught my eye because I just finished a section in my manuscript on Mortimer J. Adler's multiple Firing Line appearances and his interactions with Buckley.

In writing about both figures a prominent theme in Tanenhaus' piece was elitism in U.S. intellectual history---the class solidarity that bound both.  He finds other parallels, which I will point out below. But I'm most interested in larger thing Tanenhaus is trying to do in the article: write about emotion in the context of U.S. intellectual history.

Before going there, let me relay the last third of Tanenhaus' article, particularly these passages on American exceptionalism in the context of the Vietnam War (YouTube link moved here from earlier in the story):


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Buckley and Mr. Vidal both subscribed, though in very different ways, to the ideal of American exceptionalism — ...[particularly its] susceptib[ility] to foreign infection. Mr. Vidal feared the evils of empire building...and warned against the decline that had overtaken other civilizations brought low by imperial hubris. 

For Buckley the threat came from global communism and “statist” domestic policies that would reduce Americans to servitude and weaken their connection to the moral values of Christianity.

It was this two-sides-of-the-same-coin idealism that led to the heated exchange in 1968. The actual topic that evening was the Vietnam War. Mr. Vidal opposed it. Buckley supported it. Again their reasons were parallel. For Mr. Vidal the war betrayed the tradition he was raised in, which sought to keep America untainted by the temptations of empire. For Buckley, supporting the war meant holding back the tide of communism. 

As their tempers rose, each seemed to be battling not so much the other as the distorted image of himself that his opponent represented. The terms they haughtily flung at each other were those other critics sometimes applied to them, only in reverse — Buckley, whose arch mannerisms were sometimes mocked as effete; Mr. Vidal, whose disdain for American vulgarity was tinged, some said, with anti-Semitism and dislike of the “lower orders.” 

Divided by so much, Mr. Vidal and Buckley were united in their iconoclasm, however uneasily.

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Again, I love the Vidal-Buckley parallels in relation to iconoclasm, elitism, American exceptionalism, cavils from critics (e.g. effete), and fears of distorted images. For me this says that the so-called conservative-liberal divide of the post-war period is more, among intellectuals anyway, of an intramural contest within liberalism.  That contest was about shades of American liberalism, not a rejection of the larger project of liberalism.

As a professional historian (but not as a person with feelings of disgust) I very much appreciated (loved?) the visceral dislike and passion in the YouTube clip. It's rare to see that kind of open emotion, on air or otherwise. But it's not surprising given the period. To paraphrase today's cool kids, "That's what Vietnam do."

It's hard to top the source when one is writing about events like that---hence the link to the clip in the NYT article. How are you, dear reader, capturing emotions in your USIH work? How does one write about emotions effectively, and concisely, in age of multimedia? How can a traditional media article (journal, newspaper), with its two-dimensional limitations, convey the essence of an event best remembered for the passion conveyed in three dimensions? It seems that a YouTube clip is worth a thousand words. - TL

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* Since it's only August 2, I'm going to assume that you can read the piece because you haven't used up your ten free online NYT viewings.

The Emotional Panoply of American Conservatism, 1964-Present

If the notion of a 'panoply' means anything to you, it probably calls forth images of defense---the arms and armor of Greek warriors. My American Heritage College Dictionary tells me, however, that the term has also denotes things that cover and protect, "ceremonial attire with all accessories," and arrays both "splendid or striking." The array of emotional states covered by recent American conservatism suggests a necessary, renewable source of power behind the ideas and ideology of movement. Other USIH posts have covered a variety of ideas and ideology underneath post-World War II conservatism, including adaptations of 'new class' theory, reactions against the destruction of the informal Protestant moral establishment, free-market ideology, anti-intellectualism, Ayn Randian individualism and libertarianism, and disaffection with liberalism (i.e. neoconservatism).

But a recent post at the Chronicle's "Percolator" weblog, composed by Tom Bartlett, reminded me of the emotional angle for viewing conservatism. Bartlett's post actually deals with a research study on cleanliness. In the course of discussing the work, he reminds the reader that Leon R. Kass argued for 'disgust' as a biologically natural aspect of the "wisdom of repugnance."[1] Bartlett also relays Martha Nussbaum's rebuke of Kass, with the former asserting that "disgust is not wise but terribly obtuse." Indeed, Nussbaum goes further to say that "projective disgust" says more about the individual and his/her self-loathing, as well as the desire for a scapegoat. [2]

Leon Kass has been on my radar screen for some time. His wife, Amy Apfel Kass, wrote a dissertation at Johns Hopkins on the great books, Robert M. Hutchins, and M.J. Adler titled "Radical Conservatives for Liberal Education" (1973). I consider Kass's dissertation the first salvo in a relatively successful conservative re-appropriation of the great books idea away from mid-century liberalism. In Kass's hands, Hutchins becomes an early conservative who railed against a relativist academy from the 1920s to the 1950s, primarily by promoting the great books. There is some truth to this---as must be the case with all lies---but a great deal of contradictory information is downplayed or left out, and terms like "liberal" and "conservative" are used homogeneously over large swaths of time. In sum, Kass's work was a presentist (meaning 1973) appropriation of Hutchins educational philosophy and the great books idea for 1970s conservative and neoconservative ends.

Returning to the emotional history of the modern conservative movement, I am convinced it ascended to dominance when it appropriated a variety of discourses involving feelings related to politics, social issues, religion, the late Cold War, and otherwise. It is no coincidence that Reagan's optimistic mantra about it being "morning again in America" correlated with the ascendancy of an ideology---of ideologies---that before 1984, or 1980, was probably dead even with mid-century liberalism. Indeed, we pay attention to Carter's dour discourse on limits and "malaise" because it lacked, and signified the absence of, a connection with the varied emotional desires of the American people.

But the roots are deeper. Nixon played on emotions effectively. They are most evident in his private discourse (the tape recordings), but isn't the "silent majority" also an emotional tactic? Of course emotional discourse hasn't always worked well for conservatives. Lyndon Johnson's "Daisy" or "Daisy Girl" advertisement most certainly played on fears of Goldwater's emotional and intellectual instability. Indeed, the conservative movement had to put its intellect on display, mostly via neoconservatives, before it could more effectively draw on emotional discourse later.



We all know that politics requires an emotional connection, so I fully realize that what I am discussing here is not news---not by any means. Then again, I am not aware of a recent history of post-1960s conservatism that firmly and prominently underscores the range---the panoply---of emotions on display in the movement over time, as well as how its internal emotional discourse has changed over time. Though I have not read every recent book on conservatism, my impression is that representations of the movement's history in relation to emotion are usually about the same old stuff: anger ("I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!") and fear (fear of the decline of values, family, and tradition). A notable exception, within the context of one year, might be Andreas Killen's 1973 Nervous Breakdown (2007). But a discussion of the panoply of emotions evident within the movement would enrich discourse about its ideology (or ideologies)—where ideas meet politics and the populace.

What emotions are on the table so far? I just mentioned anger and fear. Kass and Nussbaum deal with disgust. What else matters?

What of outrage and scandal? It seems to me that the 1970s and 1980s were, for conservatives, about fostering outrage over government waste, whether it be through rhetoric about welfare queens or the proverbial $100 hammers purchased through improperly scrutinized defense contracts. Religious conservatives today, in discussions about abortion, prefer to shock us into outrage with stories about late-term abortions, waving the bloody shirt with pictures on campus of aborted fetuses. I suppose, however, that line of attack also falls within the realm of disgust.

What of humor? Long ago, when I wrote an article on Rush Limbaugh for an encyclopedia on the Culture Wars (p. 322-324), I underscored the role of humor in arguing for his attractiveness as a popular conservative media figure. To make matters worse, the same conservatives who play with humor have perpetuated the canard about "humorless liberals"---with some success in the 1980s. It is probably not stretch to say that conservatives have dominated the humor valence of both the Culture Wars and political discourse since the 1970s.

George W. Bush introduced the notion of "compassionate conservatism." This was a way, of course, for conservatives to take control of the "charity discourse" in politics---to wrest the emotion of love away from the progressive, religious side of liberalism. Voters felt that conservatism wasn't just about anger and fear, or outrage and scandal.

What of emotions and conservative discourses about freedom and liberty? It seems to me that those discussions introduce a sleight-of-hand in that the actual expansion of freedom is replaced with rhetoric that promotes the feeling of freedom. Americans want to feel that they are promoting freedom around the world, in an unqualified and uncomplicated way. George W. Bush certainly captured that emotional discourse.

In thinking about war, I'm sure that Ray Haberski--in his forthcoming work---will touch on the range of emotions related to civil religion and the rites of war. Conservatives seem more successful, on balance, than liberals, within the 1970-2010 time period, on making connections between the need for aggression, liberty, and disgust with terrorism. Right now conservatives are holding hostage rational discourse about Islam in America as a result. This might of course say more about the American people than political emotion as directed from above.

If one wanted to catalogue the entire panoply of emotions evident in recent conservatism, a Wikipedia entry titled, unsurprisingly, "List of Emotions" is probably a fine place to start.

Moving even closer to the present, I thought in 2008 that presidential candidate Barack Obama effectively re-appropriated some of the emotional spectrum from conservatives. Notions such as hope, change, and the "audacity of hope" attracted independents and liberals to his agenda. But President Obama has been much more reserved in employing the discourse of emotions to advance his agenda. Some of this is strategy in that he seems to enjoy playing the role of a judiciously corrective and moderating parent. The early crisis period of his presidency necessitated level-headedness. In the meantime, however, it seems that Obama has lost something of his ability to use emotions, honestly and effectively, to advance his agenda. Perhaps he should study histories of late twentieth-century conservatism to catalyze his rhetoric for the upcoming re-election campaign.

In some ways, one could argue that conservative discourse has become so attached to emotion that it is impossible to expect cool rationality from its current adherents. With the Tea Party in control of the emotional discourse of conservatism, Obama's cool-headedness remains at least moderately attractive. Then again, the Tea Party has a way of making John Boehner look like a statesman. Even so, until conservatives put forth a critical mass that brings rationality front and center, it won't pay for Obama to excite the base emotionally the way he had to in 2008. So long as the paranoia, emotionalism, and anti-intellectualism of figures like Glenn Beck, Sarah Palin, Peter King, Michele Bachmann, Steve King, Sharron Angle, Mike Huckabee, and Newt Gingrich dominate popular perceptions of conservatism, there is no reason for Obama to show his full range of emotional connections. Indeed, it would be risky for Obama to apply Leon Kass's "wisdom of repugnance" to current conservative positions; the president would be capitulating political discourse to conservative-dominated terrain. Then again, those terms have enabled the rise of a powerful movement over the past 30 years.

Thoughts? Have a missed a book that attempts to integrate the range of emotions? Are there relevant scholarly articles I've overlooked? Are there any powerful emotions I've not discussed? - TL

----------------------------------------------------

[1] Leon Kass, "The Wisdom of Repugnance," The New Republic (June 2, 1997): 17-26.

[2] Some of Nussbaum's arguments against Kass are evident in a Chronicle of Higher Education article titled "Danger to Human Dignity: the Revival of Disgust and Shame in the Law" (August 6, 2004).

The Emotional Panoply of American Conservatism, 1964-Present

If the notion of a 'panoply' means anything to you, it probably calls forth images of defense---the arms and armor of Greek warriors. My American Heritage College Dictionary tells me, however, that the term has also denotes things that cover and protect, "ceremonial attire with all accessories," and arrays both "splendid or striking." The array of emotional states covered by recent American conservatism suggests a necessary, renewable source of power behind the ideas and ideology of movement. Other USIH posts have covered a variety of ideas and ideology underneath post-World War II conservatism, including adaptations of 'new class' theory, reactions against the destruction of the informal Protestant moral establishment, free-market ideology, anti-intellectualism, Ayn Randian individualism and libertarianism, and disaffection with liberalism (i.e. neoconservatism).

But a recent post at the Chronicle's "Percolator" weblog, composed by Tom Bartlett, reminded me of the emotional angle for viewing conservatism. Bartlett's post actually deals with a research study on cleanliness. In the course of discussing the work, he reminds the reader that Leon R. Kass argued for 'disgust' as a biologically natural aspect of the "wisdom of repugnance."[1] Bartlett also relays Martha Nussbaum's rebuke of Kass, with the former asserting that "disgust is not wise but terribly obtuse." Indeed, Nussbaum goes further to say that "projective disgust" says more about the individual and his/her self-loathing, as well as the desire for a scapegoat. [2]

Leon Kass has been on my radar screen for some time. His wife, Amy Apfel Kass, wrote a dissertation at Johns Hopkins on the great books, Robert M. Hutchins, and M.J. Adler titled "Radical Conservatives for Liberal Education" (1973). I consider Kass's dissertation the first salvo in a relatively successful conservative re-appropriation of the great books idea away from mid-century liberalism. In Kass's hands, Hutchins becomes an early conservative who railed against a relativist academy from the 1920s to the 1950s, primarily by promoting the great books. There is some truth to this---as must be the case with all lies---but a great deal of contradictory information is downplayed or left out, and terms like "liberal" and "conservative" are used homogeneously over large swaths of time. In sum, Kass's work was a presentist (meaning 1973) appropriation of Hutchins educational philosophy and the great books idea for 1970s conservative and neoconservative ends.

Returning to the emotional history of the modern conservative movement, I am convinced it ascended to dominance when it appropriated a variety of discourses involving feelings related to politics, social issues, religion, the late Cold War, and otherwise. It is no coincidence that Reagan's optimistic mantra about it being "morning again in America" correlated with the ascendancy of an ideology---of ideologies---that before 1984, or 1980, was probably dead even with mid-century liberalism. Indeed, we pay attention to Carter's dour discourse on limits and "malaise" because it lacked, and signified the absence of, a connection with the varied emotional desires of the American people.

But the roots are deeper. Nixon played on emotions effectively. They are most evident in his private discourse (the tape recordings), but isn't the "silent majority" also an emotional tactic? Of course emotional discourse hasn't always worked well for conservatives. Lyndon Johnson's "Daisy" or "Daisy Girl" advertisement most certainly played on fears of Goldwater's emotional and intellectual instability. Indeed, the conservative movement had to put its intellect on display, mostly via neoconservatives, before it could more effectively draw on emotional discourse later.



We all know that politics requires an emotional connection, so I fully realize that what I am discussing here is not news---not by any means. Then again, I am not aware of a recent history of post-1960s conservatism that firmly and prominently underscores the range---the panoply---of emotions on display in the movement over time, as well as how its internal emotional discourse has changed over time. Though I have not read every recent book on conservatism, my impression is that representations of the movement's history in relation to emotion are usually about the same old stuff: anger ("I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!") and fear (fear of the decline of values, family, and tradition). A notable exception, within the context of one year, might be Andreas Killen's 1973 Nervous Breakdown (2007). But a discussion of the panoply of emotions evident within the movement would enrich discourse about its ideology (or ideologies)—where ideas meet politics and the populace.

What emotions are on the table so far? I just mentioned anger and fear. Kass and Nussbaum deal with disgust. What else matters?

What of outrage and scandal? It seems to me that the 1970s and 1980s were, for conservatives, about fostering outrage over government waste, whether it be through rhetoric about welfare queens or the proverbial $100 hammers purchased through improperly scrutinized defense contracts. Religious conservatives today, in discussions about abortion, prefer to shock us into outrage with stories about late-term abortions, waving the bloody shirt with pictures on campus of aborted fetuses. I suppose, however, that line of attack also falls within the realm of disgust.

What of humor? Long ago, when I wrote an article on Rush Limbaugh for an encyclopedia on the Culture Wars (p. 322-324), I underscored the role of humor in arguing for his attractiveness as a popular conservative media figure. To make matters worse, the same conservatives who play with humor have perpetuated the canard about "humorless liberals"---with some success in the 1980s. It is probably not stretch to say that conservatives have dominated the humor valence of both the Culture Wars and political discourse since the 1970s.

George W. Bush introduced the notion of "compassionate conservatism." This was a way, of course, for conservatives to take control of the "charity discourse" in politics---to wrest the emotion of love away from the progressive, religious side of liberalism. Voters felt that conservatism wasn't just about anger and fear, or outrage and scandal.

What of emotions and conservative discourses about freedom and liberty? It seems to me that those discussions introduce a sleight-of-hand in that the actual expansion of freedom is replaced with rhetoric that promotes the feeling of freedom. Americans want to feel that they are promoting freedom around the world, in an unqualified and uncomplicated way. George W. Bush certainly captured that emotional discourse.

In thinking about war, I'm sure that Ray Haberski--in his forthcoming work---will touch on the range of emotions related to civil religion and the rites of war. Conservatives seem more successful, on balance, than liberals, within the 1970-2010 time period, on making connections between the need for aggression, liberty, and disgust with terrorism. Right now conservatives are holding hostage rational discourse about Islam in America as a result. This might of course say more about the American people than political emotion as directed from above.

If one wanted to catalogue the entire panoply of emotions evident in recent conservatism, a Wikipedia entry titled, unsurprisingly, "List of Emotions" is probably a fine place to start.

Moving even closer to the present, I thought in 2008 that presidential candidate Barack Obama effectively re-appropriated some of the emotional spectrum from conservatives. Notions such as hope, change, and the "audacity of hope" attracted independents and liberals to his agenda. But President Obama has been much more reserved in employing the discourse of emotions to advance his agenda. Some of this is strategy in that he seems to enjoy playing the role of a judiciously corrective and moderating parent. The early crisis period of his presidency necessitated level-headedness. In the meantime, however, it seems that Obama has lost something of his ability to use emotions, honestly and effectively, to advance his agenda. Perhaps he should study histories of late twentieth-century conservatism to catalyze his rhetoric for the upcoming re-election campaign.

In some ways, one could argue that conservative discourse has become so attached to emotion that it is impossible to expect cool rationality from its current adherents. With the Tea Party in control of the emotional discourse of conservatism, Obama's cool-headedness remains at least moderately attractive. Then again, the Tea Party has a way of making John Boehner look like a statesman. Even so, until conservatives put forth a critical mass that brings rationality front and center, it won't pay for Obama to excite the base emotionally the way he had to in 2008. So long as the paranoia, emotionalism, and anti-intellectualism of figures like Glenn Beck, Sarah Palin, Peter King, Michele Bachmann, Steve King, Sharron Angle, Mike Huckabee, and Newt Gingrich dominate popular perceptions of conservatism, there is no reason for Obama to show his full range of emotional connections. Indeed, it would be risky for Obama to apply Leon Kass's "wisdom of repugnance" to current conservative positions; the president would be capitulating political discourse to conservative-dominated terrain. Then again, those terms have enabled the rise of a powerful movement over the past 30 years.

Thoughts? Have a missed a book that attempts to integrate the range of emotions? Are there relevant scholarly articles I've overlooked? Are there any powerful emotions I've not discussed? - TL

----------------------------------------------------

[1] Leon Kass, "The Wisdom of Repugnance," The New Republic (June 2, 1997): 17-26.

[2] Some of Nussbaum's arguments against Kass are evident in a Chronicle of Higher Education article titled "Danger to Human Dignity: the Revival of Disgust and Shame in the Law" (August 6, 2004).

Proposition For Debate: Change In The Objects Of Study For Intellectual Historians

[Updated: 8/20/09, 9:35 CST]

Intellectual historians have traditionally been concerned with high and complex thought---traditional philosophical topics (Deweyan instrumentalism, Jamesian pragmatism, etc.) or practical applications thereof (Deweyites in education, Jamesians in psychology, etc.). These concerns might involve iterations of larger, more evident ideas or topics (e.g. freedom, democracy, knowledge, truth), or it might involve history books that make explicit subtle points of method (e.g. language theory, logic, arguments). The point is that a kind of top-down movement pervades this tradition---from complex ideas and/or prominent thinkers, to historical evidence.

But because higher thought exists and is on record, this does not necessitate that intellectual historians should neglect “lower thought.” By lower thought I mean that which is not recognized or always respected by philosophers or intellectual historians. This includes non-Western thought processes, the varieties of emotion, the appearance of unreasonableness (e.g. popular culture frivolity, ideologues), and less articulate attempts to rise above everyday circumstances. Of course this may involve occasional speculation on the part of historians to fill the gap inevitably left by the less articulate.

I do not mean to assert that a move toward the broad study of less complex thought should necessitate the neglect of higher modes of thought. A move toward more popular expressions of the intellect is meant only to (a) show the appeal of intellectual history to more readers and citizens, and (b) serve as a bulwark against the charge of elitism in intellectual history (e.g. concern only for those who express themselves well or in a complex fashion in the archives).

Be it resolved, then, that some significant portion of intellectual historians should, if not already doing so, concern themselves with classes of people traditionally considered less or in-articulate, irrational, emotional, or whose apparent actions would formerly indicate irrationality or radical differences in reasoning method.

-------------------------------------------

What am I forgetting? Is this proposition so obvious as to be irrelevant? Per the 1977 Wingspread Conference, has the history of culture, or cultural history, fulfilled this obligation? If so, has it done it satisfactorily? Is forwarding this proposition just another case of one forgetting about the “hidden intellectual history” of the past 30 years or so—--the kind of intellectual history that is now scattered over many other subfields? An example that might prove this point could be Michael Denning’s much-discussed and admired study, The Cultural Front. Are there not enough of those kinds of books? But have books on immigration history and the history of emotions, for instance, made an effort from the bottom up to connect historical actors to traditional streams of intellectual history? - TL

Proposition For Debate: Change In The Objects Of Study For Intellectual Historians

[Updated: 8/20/09, 9:35 CST]

Intellectual historians have traditionally been concerned with high and complex thought---traditional philosophical topics (Deweyan instrumentalism, Jamesian pragmatism, etc.) or practical applications thereof (Deweyites in education, Jamesians in psychology, etc.). These concerns might involve iterations of larger, more evident ideas or topics (e.g. freedom, democracy, knowledge, truth), or it might involve history books that make explicit subtle points of method (e.g. language theory, logic, arguments). The point is that a kind of top-down movement pervades this tradition---from complex ideas and/or prominent thinkers, to historical evidence.

But because higher thought exists and is on record, this does not necessitate that intellectual historians should neglect “lower thought.” By lower thought I mean that which is not recognized or always respected by philosophers or intellectual historians. This includes non-Western thought processes, the varieties of emotion, the appearance of unreasonableness (e.g. popular culture frivolity, ideologues), and less articulate attempts to rise above everyday circumstances. Of course this may involve occasional speculation on the part of historians to fill the gap inevitably left by the less articulate.

I do not mean to assert that a move toward the broad study of less complex thought should necessitate the neglect of higher modes of thought. A move toward more popular expressions of the intellect is meant only to (a) show the appeal of intellectual history to more readers and citizens, and (b) serve as a bulwark against the charge of elitism in intellectual history (e.g. concern only for those who express themselves well or in a complex fashion in the archives).

Be it resolved, then, that some significant portion of intellectual historians should, if not already doing so, concern themselves with classes of people traditionally considered less or in-articulate, irrational, emotional, or whose apparent actions would formerly indicate irrationality or radical differences in reasoning method.

-------------------------------------------

What am I forgetting? Is this proposition so obvious as to be irrelevant? Per the 1977 Wingspread Conference, has the history of culture, or cultural history, fulfilled this obligation? If so, has it done it satisfactorily? Is forwarding this proposition just another case of one forgetting about the “hidden intellectual history” of the past 30 years or so—--the kind of intellectual history that is now scattered over many other subfields? An example that might prove this point could be Michael Denning’s much-discussed and admired study, The Cultural Front. Are there not enough of those kinds of books? But have books on immigration history and the history of emotions, for instance, made an effort from the bottom up to connect historical actors to traditional streams of intellectual history? - TL

Crosspost: A Two-For-One Review On The Attractions Of Eugenics

After teaching a semester of the history of medicine in the U.S., I keep my ear to the ground for news in that field that intersects with intellectual history (including the history of ideas). With that, this H-Law review---which I received courtesy of H-SCI-MED-TECH, will be of interest to those who think, occasionally or otherwise, about eugenics, legal history, and aspects of social control.

Lynne Curry ably recounts the new work of two scholars, Paul A. Lombardo and Victoria F. Nourse, and shapes their topics into a commentary on the relevance of eugenics history to current legal and social debates about our genetic inheritance. The title of Curry's review, "Intellectual Seduction: The Promise and Perils of Eugenics," draws from a line in Nourse's book. I doubt the history of the emotional attachment to eugenics is a focus, but appreciate the nod to that aspect of the history of ideas.

One could write a powerful history of fear in the United States as it relates to loss, both individual and social, of status, power, beauty, the other, random violence, degradation by disease, etc. One might also link that fear to both conservative and liberal impulses.

It's amazing how even succinct reviews of books will open your mind to new areas of thought.

Crosspost: A Two-For-One Review On The Attractions Of Eugenics

After teaching a semester of the history of medicine in the U.S., I keep my ear to the ground for news in that field that intersects with intellectual history (including the history of ideas). With that, this H-Law review---which I received courtesy of H-SCI-MED-TECH, will be of interest to those who think, occasionally or otherwise, about eugenics, legal history, and aspects of social control.

Lynne Curry ably recounts the new work of two scholars, Paul A. Lombardo and Victoria F. Nourse, and shapes their topics into a commentary on the relevance of eugenics history to current legal and social debates about our genetic inheritance. The title of Curry's review, "Intellectual Seduction: The Promise and Perils of Eugenics," draws from a line in Nourse's book. I doubt the history of the emotional attachment to eugenics is a focus, but appreciate the nod to that aspect of the history of ideas.

One could write a powerful history of fear in the United States as it relates to loss, both individual and social, of status, power, beauty, the other, random violence, degradation by disease, etc. One might also link that fear to both conservative and liberal impulses.

It's amazing how even succinct reviews of books will open your mind to new areas of thought.

Theorizing The Culture Wars: Jacques Barzun, Politics, And Fostering Intellectual Life In A Democracy

by Tim Lacy

Jacques Barzun predicted the Culture Wars. Well, maybe not. He was both a historian and a product of his times, not a prophet. But there is little doubt that the Culture Wars of his early years, the 1940s and 1950s, bear at least some resemblance to today's battles over books, religion, the arts, and education.

As such, passages in Barzun's 1959 book, The House of Intellect, both describe his times and explain something about the causes of political and cultural skirmishes of the last quarter of the twentieth century, as well as first decade of the current one. If we read his book with the last 40 or so years in mind, we see the outlines not only of an explanatory theory for the problems of mixing culture and politics, but maybe also some potential solutions. With Barzun in mind, this essay both thinks historically and philosophizes about the present. He will help me demonstrate the usefulness of U.S. intellectual history today.

House of Intellect begins by outlining three primary enemies of the intellect, at least as Barzun saw them in the late 1950s. They were Art, Science, and Philanthropy. These separate but inter-related combatants work against the intellect by: demanding exclusive allegiance (art), garnering intellectual prestige and fearing the so-called regressive effects of the humanities (science), as well as fostering a demeaned equality and psychology of help (philanthropy).[1] Barzun provides much more, of course. For instance, he dedicates an entire chapter (seven) to the insidious generosity of philanthropy.

Barzun defines the “intellect” as neither raw intelligence nor the accumulation of credentials. Rather it is a love for “order, logic, clarity, and speed of communication.” The intellect is characterized by a high degree of literacy (not mere reading skill) and a “feeling of mystery and awe” in learning.[2] His notion of the intellect is not about compromise, material interests, public service, or social peace. The intellect might inform things considered practical and pragmatic, but practice and pragmatism will only be hampered if the intellect alone leads the way. Intelligence, cunning, craftiness, and industriousness work well in a democracy, if ordered toward comprise, but not the intellect. ...

[Continue reading here. You may return to this page for comments.]

Theorizing The Culture Wars: Jacques Barzun, Politics, And Fostering Intellectual Life In A Democracy

by Tim Lacy

Jacques Barzun predicted the Culture Wars. Well, maybe not. He was both a historian and a product of his times, not a prophet. But there is little doubt that the Culture Wars of his early years, the 1940s and 1950s, bear at least some resemblance to today's battles over books, religion, the arts, and education.

As such, passages in Barzun's 1959 book, The House of Intellect, both describe his times and explain something about the causes of political and cultural skirmishes of the last quarter of the twentieth century, as well as first decade of the current one. If we read his book with the last 40 or so years in mind, we see the outlines not only of an explanatory theory for the problems of mixing culture and politics, but maybe also some potential solutions. With Barzun in mind, this essay both thinks historically and philosophizes about the present. He will help me demonstrate the usefulness of U.S. intellectual history today.

House of Intellect begins by outlining three primary enemies of the intellect, at least as Barzun saw them in the late 1950s. They were Art, Science, and Philanthropy. These separate but inter-related combatants work against the intellect by: demanding exclusive allegiance (art), garnering intellectual prestige and fearing the so-called regressive effects of the humanities (science), as well as fostering a demeaned equality and psychology of help (philanthropy).[1] Barzun provides much more, of course. For instance, he dedicates an entire chapter (seven) to the insidious generosity of philanthropy.

Barzun defines the “intellect” as neither raw intelligence nor the accumulation of credentials. Rather it is a love for “order, logic, clarity, and speed of communication.” The intellect is characterized by a high degree of literacy (not mere reading skill) and a “feeling of mystery and awe” in learning.[2] His notion of the intellect is not about compromise, material interests, public service, or social peace. The intellect might inform things considered practical and pragmatic, but practice and pragmatism will only be hampered if the intellect alone leads the way. Intelligence, cunning, craftiness, and industriousness work well in a democracy, if ordered toward comprise, but not the intellect. ...

[Continue reading here. You may return to this page for comments.]